Friends, unexpectedly

FRIEND from Muar sat across from me, her seven-month-old son bouncing on her lap. Her three-and-a-half-year-old daughter sat cross-legged on the floor in front of us, engrossed in a picture book filled with dinosaurs.

I was sitting on her L-shaped sofa in her home in her adopted habitat of Miri (Sarawak), with a glass of wine in my hand, and smiling wistfully at the scene before me.

Friend from Muar: crazy, smart engineer extraordinaire who traded all of that to start a family, her true life goal. And me: 34, single, unemployed, aspiring writer. There we were, polar opposites.

When I first met Friend from Muar, we were 19 and at a treasure hunt during orientation at college. We were both in the same team. While I was content to just go with the flow (being new and all), she immediately took charge and barked orders.

I remember my first thought: “Yikes! So power hungry!” Yet, I was in awe. It was a conundrum.

For the next two years, as my conundrum dissipated, my esteem for her grew as she revealed herself to not only be a self-confessed, fashion-crazy nerd, but also an odd, caring person – although the latter was not always obvious.

One day we got the news that she and I would be heading to the same university. It was only natural for us to try to room together, but I was worried because I wasn’t sure if she and I could be friends without our other peers there as buffers. But I kept my worry at bay.

The year we became roommates was tumultuous for our friendship. On hindsight, that’s an understatement. Instead of being closer, we were like two ships in the night saying “Hi” and “Bye”, rushing off to classes and only seeing one another in between. We were disconnected from one another.

After several months of faux peacefulness, everything came to a head one night. I had been going through a difficult patch in my relationship and would return to my room with swollen eyes and a sniffling nose. But not once did she ask if I was all right, or if I needed someone to talk to.

Unable to hold everything in and sensing an outlet for my anger, I ranted and accused her of being cold, uncaring and an unworthy friend. It was a day that I was least proud of myself.

I remember that after I had said my piece, she looked at me calmly and agreed that she had not asked me if I was all right. But it wasn’t because she didn’t care, she said.

No, it was because she didn’t want to intrude as she knew I valued my privacy. And she also knew that if I really needed help, I’d ask because she understood that I was someone who hesitated to reveal weakness and always wanted to appear strong.

She was right. I had expected her to read my mind because she was my friend and when she didn’t, I lashed out. The truth of her statements made my tears flow even faster.

From that day onwards though, the only direction our friendship could go was upwards because, literally, we had hit rock bottom in the proverbial friendship barrel.

Now, no matter how much time has passed since the last time we saw or spoke to one another, when we do meet, our conversation will just pick up from where we left off.

On that last visit, from the moment I got out of the pickup truck and saw her waiting at the gate with her children to welcome me, the years since our last meeting just evaporated and we easily fell back in sync with one another, as if we were still roommates in university.

Throughout my visit, I played Snakes and Ladders with her daughter and tried not to win. I entertained her son and let him gnaw at my knee with his four teeth. I washed dishes and prepped for meals. I sang songs and fed their one-eyed dog, Girlfriend.

And in between, we talked. About the past, about now.

Those days were one of the most enriching of my life. At the end of my visit, I felt sad to leave. She has made a life that I had never expected her to have, but one that I cannot imagine her not living now. And that I could be a small part of it was something I never thought would happen.

So, 2012 will be the 15th year of our friendship. We’ve been friends through six years of hostel life, four breakups (three hers, one mine), one wedding (definitely hers), two children (also hers) and almost nine years of friendship via email, phone calls, SMS-ES and Facebook.

Thank you, dear unexpected friend, for your hand and your life that you are willing to share with me.