"Someone might, I won't"

"This is it!" I looked at myself in the mirror. The last time I'd worn this deep-neck lycra top, he'd had difficulty taking his eyes off me. This time I had bettered it by accentuating my neckline with a stunning silver-and-blue stone necklace. My hair, for once, was in place. Even if I had to be objective, I'd say, "Gorgeous." I was ready to take on the world. I glanced at my reflection again. A furrow had formed on my forehead - a sign of doubt. Self-doubt. Rachit was my best friend. I could share all my secrets with him. Then why couldn't I tell him just as easily about how I really felt about him?

We had known each other for a year. It didn't take us long to become friends, good friends and then best friends. We lived in two different cities (he in Vadodara, Gujarat, I in Mumbai), but that didn't matter thanks to two recent inventions of mankind - the internet and the cell-phone. If I had something to tell, something to share with anyone, it would be him. I had told him that I adored him. Several times. But to say that in front of him, looking into his eyes instead of typing out the words in a chat window was always going to be difficult and different. Nobody said life would be easy!

"Give it a try. Swallow your pride, just this one time," I kept telling myself as the taxi drove me down to a restaurant at Mumbai's Marine Drive. I liked the place. It allowed for comfortable privacy, away from the prying eyes of waiters and fellow diners and yet busy enough to allow for enough distractions in case things didn't go the way I wanted. Rachit came late, as always. But this time I didn't frown. I had wanted the delay to help me think things through again. In the quest for a boyfriend, I didn't want to lose my best friend. I'd have to be tactful. "You look nice," he said. I flashed my widest grin.

As we sat sipping sodas, he couldn't take his eyes off my neck. "What are you looking at?" "Nothing," he mumbled and rested his eyes on the salt-and-pepper shakers. "I've got something to tell you. A surprise. A big one," he said without looking at me. "Oh!" Would he actually save me the trouble and say those three words himself? I waited in anticipation. He whipped out a white business envelope and put it on the table. It was addressed to him. I opened it nervously. Two words seemed to jump out of the page - "job" and "offer". His first job! And the company was sending him to Kerala for training for three months. "Wow!" This was sure a surprise. Not the one I had expected and painful in a way I hadn't thought it would be. He would be going further away from me (in terms of kilometres at least). But I was his best friend. And I had to be more encouraging, even enthusiastic. I forced my vocal chords to utter, "Congrats! That's the best thing that could happen to you." He replied, "Thank you!"

Two days later, we met again. This time at a busy burger joint. This time I didn't dress up. I'd put love aside for the sake of friendship. He seemed a little nervous. Job jitters, I thought. I focused on the trivial for conversation. I didn't want to go back to what happened two days earlier. I kept turning back to the TV screen to watch Michael Schumacher's red Ferrari lap the other cars on the circuit. Rachit had been telling me something while my eyes were glued to the screen. I'd just got the last sentence, "What do you think?" He looked at me nervously. I covered up my ignorance with stupidity. "Schumi will win for sure." He seemed disappointed but didn't say more. As we said our goodbyes, he shook my hand and said, "I hope someone doesn't run away." My phone rang before I could answer him. I remembered the dentist's appointment and bolted, without even turning to look at him frozen there. There were no calls or messages that night.

Next morning, I remembered the courtesies. I sent him an SMS. "Wassup? How r u?" His response read like he was relieved: "I thought someone had run away." I replied, "Someone might, I won't." He called. He sounded relieved and extremely happy. "I'm so glad someone will not run away. Thank you so much. I'll call you later. Have a nice day." It was only after the call I realised what had happened. My best friend had professed his love for me the day before hoping I wouldn't run away from him (that had been my standard response to 'suitors') and I had done just that, leaving him dejected. There was only one way I could make amends. I sent him a message, "I love you." I kept checking my cellphone for a response. Those five minutes seemed like eternity. Then it beeped. “I love you too.” Nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could wipe the smile off my face!

Six years later, as I replay the events in my head, I wonder what Rachit might have told me at the burger joint. I’ve asked him many times. I ask him again. He just smiles mysteriously and says, “Isn’t it enough that we’re husband and wife, now? It shouldn’t matter anymore.” That’s the difference between a husband and a friend. Husbands keep secrets, friends don’t!

This piece was published in Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul. On Friendship edited by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and Baisali Chatterjee Dutt.