“What are you doing later?”
“I don’t know, let’s go chill on your roof”.
It had been years since we were close enough to do something like that. I made the suggestion and didn’t think twice about it— what else did I have to do so early in the morning? As the taxi rode away and we left the gentle buzz of people on the streets, I thought how strange it was that we’d do this on such a random night. It seemed so out of context, like a superficial, unofficial reunion. Were we just playing nice? But here’s the thing: it wasn’t awkward. Far from it, actually.
As I munched on my kebab and we laughed at each other’s quirks, it felt so easy. When we got to your house, we took the lift up and I was surprised that I could remember which stairs to take. We climbed the ladder to the upper part of the roof- where I’m sure people aren’t supposed to sit, but we went right up to the edge, where a ledge provided us a false sense of security.
I finished the kebab and tossed it on the floor. We played music through your iPhone speakers and danced with each other. I didn’t care that I looked retarded because we both were. I watched your fit of seizures to the beat of Tove Lo’s song, against the backdrop of the buildings that stretched into the distance. I could see our Old School’s field. Street lamps and cars winked and scattered. The green of football pitches on television screens could be seen through people’s windows (World Cup) as the sun began to creep out from the clouds.
We sang and you rapped obnoxiously, imitating Drake with your flipping hands. Then we settled down and I blurted out all these questions whilst you lay on your back. You said you’d changed for the better. And I told you how sometimes, I can’t enjoy myself because I’m always thinking what if? Is this what I want to be doing with my time? Am I wasting my life? What am I supposed to do, who am I supposed to be with to make this worthwhile? But I realized I was so content to just be there, on the roof at six in the morning. It was as if we could just pick up where we left off. Before we stopped talking, before we reverted to friends who only chat at parties. It was weird how easy it was to talk to you. I kept thinking how crazy it was- how so much has changed, though give us a moment, a night like this and we can relive our friendship. Can this last? You said to me: let’s chill sometime, and that you thought it was my fault we stopped hanging out. It suddenly seemed a shame how we’d drifted, because when it happens gradually, it’s really not so bad.
You waited with me until I caught a cab, holding an umbrella above our heads as it started to rain. And I felt like we were really friends again.
“What are you doing later?”