Flash fiction, Dominic Walsh

Slice of life, in Absentia

He had been inexpertly copied and pasted into this reality. That was how it felt. It was like playing tennis with one hand holding a racket and the other hand leaning on a crutch. People did and said things for reasons he could not understand. He was never 100 per cent sure when a conversation had ended. Or what delineated an acquaintance from a friend. He had worked in a library once. Someone had been there who tried their absolute hardest to err on the side of “acquaintance” not friend. It was as though there was a bar, or an invisible threshold, and this person had masterfully remained on the side that was not quite friendship. He had a best friend once. A kind, magical person who knew exactly what to say and do in any social situation. Who had chosen to be his friend, despite his dearth of confidence and social acumen. The friendship had ended. Fourteen years ago now. Depression’s crushing weight had proved too much for his best friend and just when he had finally got through it his best friend no longer wanted to know. He stalked his best friend’s social media. Sometimes regularly. One of his former best friend’s favourite films was Withnail and I. He could imagine his former best friend watching this film and thinking of him. As cowardly as the main character was; he still had what it takes. This thought comforted him and filled him with the same confidence his former best friend had instilled in him. That someone believed in him past the destruction of their relationship; when he had proved himself a failure beyond all reasonable doubt, meant more than he could ever say. His former best friend had such an insanely beautiful way of looking at the world. That was one of the reasons why he was so special to him. He imagined himself going to his old best friend’s wedding; and meeting him at the reception, and not saying anything, but for them to both understand and accept where the other was, and all that had happened. He knew this would never happen. But this dream comforted him and made the world seem more bearable. His former best friend had once referred to him as his Padawan. Back when the friendship had just started. It was the period in between the release of The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. It was as if a door had been thrown open and beyond it lay worlds and worlds of exquisite beauty. But his mind did not do what he wanted it to do. It had tried to kill him. His former best friend, above and beyond everything and everyone, had helped him through it. And then he was gone. Like he had never existed in this world. The kettle finished boiling with a click. It was tea o clock. His former best friend had countless cups of tea with him; during the lunchbreak in the café where his friend worked. It was because his former best friend had seen him, really seen him, and decided he liked him. Despite his poor social skills and odd way of being. That was why he was so special. His former best friend was in two places now. In the world he could not see or touch or go to; living his life, and inside his heart. Which he had changed from a heart that hated into a heart that loved. He sipped his tea. It was going to be all right. Really.