I was in elementary, and Gina was in my class. She spent her breaktimes wandering around the soccer field and daydreaming into space, on her own most of the time. I often stared at her and wondered if she would feel lonely. 

Then, one lunch break, I approached her while she’s strolling around the school’s running track. The red plastic and rubber running tracks shimmered while reflecting the bright, eye-blinding rays of the sun. The trees swayed from the slight breezes of wind. I could whiff in the smell of fresh grass and sweat as kids around us played tag.

She eyed me confusingly as I called her name. Then, I blurted out, “Can I walk with you?”

It is cliché, but we became best friends. We explored the school campus together every morning break, we texted frequently during the COVID lockdown, we watched musicals and laughed together. We were both quiet people. I didn’t mind, because there was always something we could talk about. Conversation wasn’t running short.

We remained like that. Until we graduated.

She chose to join a public school, while I remained in the international school system. 

We haven’t texted during the summer holidays, and we haven’t been in contact when school started either. When I transfered, she texts me, “Did you transfer schools, why didn’t I hear about it!!!”

We launch into conversation, just like old times. We start to hang out, every weekend. We still share laughs, private jokes, and boba tea drinks. As time goes on, I feel that something changed. Maybe it’s always there, but I didn’t notice. Conversations are filled with uncomfortable pauses, stretching on and on like the rabbit hole you would fall into. 

I often pretend around her, being as outgoing and extroverted as possible, because I know that she is quiet one. I feel the responsibility of being the one who break the awkward silences, being the one who always knows what to say, being the one who jokes around and laughs it off.

That is what I must do.

However, I am not that. It is tiring. To me, the so-called meetups have lost their meaning and are filled with the odd combination of anticipation to see a friend and dread to pretend to be loud and chattery.

One day, we plan on watching a musical together. I already have plans to sleep through the weekend but couldn’t find myself saying no to Gina. When we met in front of the metro station, I wave and hugged her. My arms gripping onto her jacket awkwardly. She squeezes my waist and pulls out a second later.

We strolled shoulder-to-shoulder. Gina holds me hand and sways it back and forth, but we didn’t talk. As always, I jump into the role of breaking that unbearable silence.

“So how was school this week?”

“Same old, I envy you for having for having more holidays though.”

“Of course you do, we have the rest of next week off as well. Additionally. No. Schooldays. On. Weekends.” I put on an almost-evil grin, adding extra emphasis on the last few words.

“Oh my god…” Gina crossed her arms in exaggeration.

Mission successful, just like old times.

When our giggles died down, the silence returned. More comfortable. More relaxing…

The actors bow as a another round of applause progressed. Gina and I take the same metro line. I lean on her and pretend to sleep. For the sake of not facing the silence again.

She hooks an arm around my shoulder. She probably knows I am not sleeping, because I physically can’t sleep except when I am in a bed. She chooses not to point it out though. After a few minutes of fiddling with my own hands, I get bored and sprang up.

“I’m telling you the thing that happened with XXX and XXX. You are not stopping me.”

“Consider me intrigued,” Gina fakes a posh gentleman accent.

“Alright, so…”

I considered going back to fake sleep when I finished the story, but I didn’t. We just sit there. The silence is comfortable.

After I said goodbye to Gina, I wasn’t tired. Not one bit. I realized then, I won’t have to talk unless I want to. Gina is Gina. I am myself. I won’t change anything about that. I didn’t have to pretend as much as I thought. The silence was real. The laughter was real. The comfort was real.