after Annie Ernaux’s “Returns”
The last time you saw that colleague who was reportedly your friend was shortly after you quit your job. It was also shortly after the life-startling eclipse cast a shadow so complete over the sun that darkness fell, crickets began to chirp, and the temperature dropped. You knew she wasn’t quite your friend—you weren’t delusional about work people—but still. You had shared midday chats, book recommendations, dinners out, and even those holidays around holidays meant for friends.
The point is that the last time you saw her was at a wine shop. You both lived in a small town with ambitious pretentions—like the two of you—and this shop fancied itself a Parisian café. You were already sitting outside waiting, and when she approached, her shadow fell across the book pages you were reading. You smiled up at her. You had often envisioned the kind of life you wanted. A scene such as this one would have certainly fit those imaginings. It was a casual outing of gossiping and updates—a toasting to what came next. But after you discussed your moving on from your job, she had no more use for you.
In retrospect it felt that abrupt, but she probably already knew of your departure. This is the way with memories. The slow reveal is simplified into an instant of blinding light. What you do remember is the conversation coming to a natural close, and she said, This was really nice. We should do this again. You believed her because you felt it, too, or at least you thought you felt a kinship that could extend into a new phase beyond the transactional. But then, there wasn’t a break up or an acknowledgment, just a lack of invitations and a repetition of broken engagements with no more wine. Sorry, so sorry—got caught up and then eventually nothing.
If you met on the street now and you approached her, she would hug you profusely, but you don’t meet on the street, and you don’t even have a chance to approach her. But, if you did, it would be like a meeting in a train station where two people momentarily cross paths. She would say, Where have you been, as though you were the one who dropped off the earth, instead of that she pushed you out beyond the reach of her orbit.
