Best Man

I sat alone, watching people come and go. All roads had led me here. I had tried to stay away but something drew me back to him, always. I had spent so many days trying to forget, but I could no longer deny my past. He was, and always will be, my best friend. No one knows me better but we decided we had to walk away. Then one day, about a year ago, the invitation arrived.

I met David just a few days before my nineteenth birthday. We bumped into each other on the stairs as we were moving in to the shared house. I didn’t think anything of it at first, after all lots of people were rushing about that day. Then after the unpacking, the excitement, the tears and the long goodbyes I was alone. It was in that silence that I heard the knock on my door.

‘Hello’ he said ‘I’m David, I’ve moved in upstairs. I’ve heard there is a pub just down the road, do you fancy a drink?’

That is where it all began.

It turned out that we liked the same music and enjoyed the same things. We used to meet often after lectures and sometimes study together. We didn’t take the same courses but it was just nice to be in the same space, both quiet, both concentrating. Somehow I felt a little bit less lost and alone that way. More often we would meet for a drink or to go into the town. People teased us, asked us when we would get together. We brushed it off. It wasn’t like that, we were friends, and we wouldn’t risk spoiling that. That’s not to say it hadn’t crossed my mind maybe once or twice. I could have told him I loved him but something always held me back. I was scared that he may not love me back and that ultimately, I would lose him. I would rather be with him as friends that without him as a failed love.

His parents made no effort to hide that fact that they did not approve of our friendship. They thought I was leading David astray into drinking and partying and staying out late watching bands. They didn’t like the things he liked and they held me largely responsible for the change in him. They discouraged him from moving in with me but he did anyway. We moved out of the halls of residence at the end of our first year into a shared flat. Our second year was much the same as our first. We used to go out together often and our relationship, although not physical, was very intimate. No one in this life could have known me better. I’ve never been quick to trust, my feelings had been betrayed before and I was not going to put myself in a position like that again. It was easy to trust David and he, likewise, trusted me. We got a bit braver and a bit bolder with each other. I began to think that maybe he felt as I did, that maybe I wouldn’t lose him, that maybe there was now nothing I could do that he could not or would not live with. Still I held back. Then one night we were listening to music in his room and he leaned over and kissed me. Shyly at first as if he was dipping his toe into the sea, hoping it wasn’t too cold and the shingle beneath his feet wasn’t too sharp. Afterwards, lying side by side I felt a little drunk, dazed and a little out of control.

We made plans for the following year, for holidays, for graduation and beyond. We were happy. It was like a dream and whilst we were in our little bubble nothing could touch us.

But there came the point where we had to go home and his parents still did not approve. They found so many reasons to keep us apart. Suddenly old family friends and childhood sweethearts were always present. Then after Easter, just before graduation we sat together in my room, we were packing up, this was it, the start of our life together. I was so excited but he just crumbled in front of me folding up under pressure. His dad had found him a job, arranged everything. He would be moving to a different part of the country. We comforted each other. We said all the right things. It could still work, we would just live apart but nothing could change how we felt. His parents would eventually have to see that. After all if we could prove to them we could survive the distance surely they would have to accept our friendship. I could see how it was tearing him apart. Of course he loved his family, he should love them it was only right. I saw what our life together would mean for him for the first time and realised I could not ask him to do it for me. I wished he would stand up to them to turn around and walk back to me but I guess I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as that. I could not live with that guilt and much as I loved him I had to let him go or I would lose him. Eventually he would resent me and the life we longed for. As we parted I thought I might break but I knew I was doing it for the man I loved, and for him I would do anything. Things started well, I saw David often, we made the effort to make our time together really count. Sunday was always torture as we were separated again, but the anticipation of Friday made up for it and we started to think maybe we really could make it despite the obstacles.

My dad asked me about him once. We were about to go away on our first holiday together. Mum had been worried about us going, said I should pay a single room supplement, that there was no accounting for people when you were suddenly with them all the time and that anything could happen. Dad was more relaxed. He asked me where David fitted in to my life. I remember I simply replied that he was my best friend and that I would be lost without him. In that simple sentence my Dad knew, said that was how he felt about mum. When I told him about David’s parents I think he was hurt, because he loved me and wanted me to be happy, but also because by now he loved David too.

After a few months and a few missed weekends we began to drift apart. Over time we saw each other less. We became friends who met at Christmas for a drink, we went to the odd festival in the summer, saw each other at college reunions. Friends tried to comfort me saying that people grow up, that they grow apart but I knew we hadn’t, not really. Then at one college reunion he introduced me to Kate. She was lovely, kind and beautiful and I was happy for him. He had found someone to love that his parents could also love and welcome. She always included me, I was invited to everything as I was David’s best friend and his parents even seemed to look upon me a little more favourably, although I felt their glare on my back. That is how it was until the invitation arrived.

Then six months ago David came to see me. Said he couldn’t marry Kate, that he still wanted our future, the one we had planned all those years before. He promised me he would talk to her. Said he was trapped by his parents’ hopes and dreams. He sat in my living room and pleaded with me to go with him, to run away. He had, he said, tried to talk to his family. They said it was just cold feet. That everything was arranged paid for, that the time for making decisions was over. I said I couldn’t. I said what about Kate? She had welcomed me, been kind to me, in a way she had helped me to regain a friendship that I thought I had lost. I knew she would never forgive me. But still I knew I loved him and I wanted to be with him more than anything. We met often and the more I saw him the more I knew I couldn’t be apart from him. He is, despite everything, the best man I have ever known. Should I really stand aside? After all he would one day come to resent Kate and the life that had been chosen for him, wouldn’t he? Maybe rather than betraying her I would be saving her? Would David be strong enough to stand by me this time? I didn’t know six months ago and I’m not sure I know now.

I’m on the threshold of my future. But what future do I choose? Can I live with the unhappiness I will cause? Can I live with myself if I deny my feelings and my own happiness? Can I ignore his pleas, his promises, his dreams, when they are my dreams too? If I walk through those doors he will know the answer that I give. I have to speak now or relegate this part of my life to memory, start again.

The car will be here soon, so my time is almost up. From the bench outside the church I watch people gather for the celebration. I pick up my hat and smile at the people I used to know. We approach the heavy wooden doors and pass under the arch. His mother's stare is burning into me as if she knows. Then just when I think I've found the answer I feel the weight of the rings nestled in the pocket of my morning suit. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Do I speak now or forever hold my peace?