On the Line.

"Well, you don't have to know how you feel about it. You just know that you accepted his apology and you move from there. It's not a requirement of life to know how you feel all the time."

I'm still not sure that it really happened. I know he saw my last entry, and I think somewhere I knew that he would.
I'm not sure that the phone rang, and that I picked it up. When he said hello, I felt that bewilderment enter the back of my head-- what boy would be calling me? I didn't know it was him until he said his name.
It seemed abrupt and strange, saying that he was sorry. I'm not sure it was really him, and I keep wondering if it was a joke. Surely I would have known his voice in a split second, like I used to? Surely I can't have forgotten it?
I said thank you. I didn't know what else to say.
He didn't try to ask me to forgive him. I think he knows me well enough that he was forgiven a long time ago. I could never grudge him anything. He didn't ask to see me, or for us to try and be friends again. He simply just let it be that things had happened, and only words were left.
I hung up and vanished into the bathroom, not ready to talk about it, not ready to face my mother's prying questions. I buried my face in a towel and let the tears come.
Because sometimes people let you know that they're still the person you loved, even if you thought they'd changed.