Eric Forbes

It’s been a long time since I last saw him.

My best friend and the guy who worked with me in my small business.

Lance.

Where is he now? And how did a disagreement turn so ugly, so fast?

I remember meeting him at Mike Furniture when I worked as an IT guy and he ran the home delivery service. It was a wild time then. Everyone at Mike was moving in different directions: expanding the store in San Francisco, adding boutiques throughout the US, acquiring a factory to make the furniture in Los Angeles, and putting out fires. Little fires. Fires that gave all of us something to do.

There was a network of computers to maintain and I figured out how to operate an ancient piece of computer code they bought to organize the various parts of the business. That software required 2 other consultants to keep running, and cost over $100,000 to provide the tiniest benefit. It was cumbersome. Everyone who used it, hated it. But learning it gave me a well-paying gig for a few years. I met Lance one day while working there and asked him about his rock climbing shoes.

I had wanted to talk to Lance for months, but never knew how to begin. I wanted to know more about him after seeing him and hearing him talking with people on the phone while I drifted from one part of the company to the next. I didn’t know anything about him, but his independent attitude, athletic body and shaved head did nothing to dissuade me from making the first move.

I assumed he would be less warm and inviting, but I was wrong. As soon as I asked him about his special-purpose suede shoes I knew that he was the real deal. I was excited that he had something to say to me. Before long I was learning to climb the artificial rock walls at Mission Cliffs with him.

The rock climbing workouts were completely new to me. Fighting gravity and learning how to hold myself against a wall with nothing more than my fingers and toes. I left those workouts nearly crawling, exhausted and woke the next day to a body that wouldn’t move. I looked forward to hanging out with him and going through the pain of moving against rocks. Hell, I’d walk across coals if he asked me to.

At one point, we started meeting at Cafe Abir almost everyday to drink coffee and tea and talk about life. We had great ideas and we shared them freely. The moments we spent at the cafe seemed so casual, pointless even, but there was a rhythm to them too. We shared each other’s company. We talked. We listened. We laughed. It was so easy. But I miss those times especially now.

I remember how easy it was to be with him.

I remember how much of my life and my dreams I shared with him.

I remember how unlikely it seemed that he’d be so sensitive and so devoted. And yet, somehow that devotion got lost. Somehow, something happened. I recall the moments that lead up to the break but I still can’t figure it out. I know I over-reacted. I shouldn’t have changed the locks. I wanted to believe everything would be the same as it was, or at least be alright. In fact I was feeling more and more alone back then, and not enjoying it. I had glimpsed a side of him I only dreamed of glimpsing and how did I respond? With anger and neglect.

I’m sorry for being such an idiot.

I’m sorry your words fell on deaf ears.

That was 6 years ago. A long time. And I’ve not seen or smelled a trace of you. It’s as if you’ve moved to an invisible dimension, at once separate and inconceivable. And yet, strong feelings continually well up inside me. Feelings that have no voice and make no sense. Feelings that if applied in a different time or space might become something real and tangible.

Alas, not here and now.

I know you know how much I love you and need you. That I can still remember you so well and feel you energetically deep inside has to mean something. That our lives merged and diverged from that simple expression seems such a waste. A disaster of the soul.

Something that can’t be fully expressed.

Something that has been erased.

Something that most people hide from.

That’s understandable. Life situations are like that. Simple and honest expressions of love, devotion and compassion often get derailed when a new life suddenly takes shape.

Love is an underdog, a 100-pound weakling standing up to the sand-throwing brutes on the beach. The brutes named “Jealousy” and “Envy.” The ones that stand in the way of this soft beauty unfolding. Jealous of the connection we had.

Imbued with righteous morality, they stand in the face of it.

And prevail.