Sometimes girlfriends go away for a while, or forever for that matter. Sometimes there is a misunderstanding, or perhaps it’s just fate.

A few nights ago I had a dream about a girlfriend that I lost a while back. This coming August it will be six years. In my dream, she was radiant, just the way I remember her. We were under a warm and cozy blue sky, walking through a lush field that seemed like it had recently been born. The kind of nature we were surrounded by was of such beauty and vulnerability, of such neatness in complexion, of tremendous overwhelming smells, that I felt we were out of this world.

Both of us were wearing jeans and sandals and she had on a silky blouse fully encrusted with layers of heavy crochet lace. It looked so gracious that I could not help but stare every time the wind raced through it and it sort of danced around her body. Her hair was long and down, like the last time we had met, on that Saturday just a few days before it all happened. Suddenly she grabbed me by the waist with her long lean arms, and whispered that she was pregnant. It seemed strange that she spoke in such a low voice in the middle of nowhere, where the only witnesses were the bushes, some lazy clouds that were passing by at the time, and the two of us. We continued on our parsimonious peregrination with our bodies entertained until we vanished into the wild. I remember carrying this feeling of happiness, of love and satisfaction. For a long time she had desired a second child and now she was expecting one.

When I woke up her celestial face was still lingering in front of me. It had always transmitted a certain quality that reminded me of angels, and anytime I could look at her I would, even if she was just doing her daily routines at home, or playing with her son or talking to her father over the phone. The upper canine teeth would normally show a little through her lips, giving her that look of eternal youth and innocence. When I caught her eyes, there was always a sense of mystery and nostalgia that pulled me inwards and I could often see inside her, even though I could never truly figure her out. Her tall and thin body was well built, yet it was as slippery as a shadow in the night, just how I would imagine a fairy’s body is made of, walking carefree and unhurried, so adorable anyone could fall for her at once.

The dream soon was over. An infinite light and bizarre noises rushed in, and movements came into sight faster than the expected rhythm. The kids were awake and ready to start their day but I kept on trying to go back to that place in the woods with my friend, whose arms I could still feel hugging my waist, and joy was the thing that moved us forward. I picked up the phone and tried calling her. Listening to her delicate sweet voice was always a gift, and right there and then it became an imperative. The phone was out of service, of course. But I needed more of her, I wanted to know how she was doing, how well her son and newborn were growing, if that baby had ever been born at all. Soon enough I gave up, trembling with impotence, as I usually do whenever I dream of her or trick myself into believing she’s still away for the summer, in New York City.

Sometimes a girlfriend leaves you without an explanation. One moment we are having an ardent conversation, fixing the world, sharing books to read and discuss, trashing our partners for their lack of common sense, banning ever wearing tulle even if we should be tempted, organizing strategies for the illogical fight against cellulite, recreating in our kitchen the trendiest bar drinks. Oh, and yes, we would both complain about women spraying their necks with too much perfume and how there should be not a rule but a law on the amount permitted. She had a soft character, and was the loveliest and classiest of all, and yet a true feminist who adored all female creatures and thought we ought to love and support each other more in order to obtain a better chance at everything that life has to offer. After flipping through the memories of our friendship I come to terms with it again and again; she is gone for good.

We may never know why some people leave just like that. Why they disappear into thin air like the smoke coming out of a shack in the woods that leads to an unknown place. The truth is, sometimes people just depart, they hang themselves, they swallow hundreds of pills, allow a train to pass through them, or they throw themselves from the 34th floor of a Manhattan building because being alive does not suite everyone and they must go elsewhere where one does not have to exist, or coexist, just like she did. Or didn’t, in the end.

In the beginning, it is almost impossible to grasp any sense of it, and in fact, some friends and even opinionated strangers will dare to judge those actions. But one must understand how fragile and crushed that soul must have been. One must comprehend the level of pain she was dealing with. Perhaps a type that cannot be fixed, cannot even be tamed for a brief instant, because demons might have taken over the spirit that was once light and witty, and torture it, and turn life into a kind of madness that only that last gasp for air can give you the hope to make it all go away. Once I understood the “stop the pain method”, I knew she did what she had to do.

Those who have left may have known it in a similar way, silently and reserved, regardless of the reaction or acceptance of the ones that stay, regardless of the state of confusion and the destructive enigma they leave behind. An emptiness so deep that one can often feel murdered and yet we are content to know that she has made it into a safe place, wherever it may be.

Grettel J. Singer
Miami

Foto: Shane Perez.