A story from A to Z

A long time ago I had a friend called Ruth, a mesmerising, childlike, free-spirit.
Before we were friends, I had a huge crush on her.
Crushes can be so crushing to the ego when unreciprocated, but somehow we managed to move through the awkwardness into friendship.
Deep down, I don’t think I ever entirely stopped holding a candle for her.
Even though I gave up any hope of anything other than friendship, I couldn’t ever consider giving up on her.
Friendship, I decided would be fine, friendship would be better than becoming lovers in many ways, as it would last forever, wouldn’t it?
Got that one wrong… in a big way!
Having Ruth as a friend was not easy, it took quite some energy, she was a full-time job, not as simple as a weekly chat and the occasional cinema outing.
I would sometimes pull away, withdraw, but she turned up again and again, needing my help, seeking my advice, wanting to play.
Just because she was so creative and lively, people including myself, mistook her for someone who was self-sufficient, independent and somehow freer than the rest of us.
Kindness from anyone embarrassed her hugely and she would become uncharacteristically defensive.
Lesbian through and through, the only man she loved was her baby brother.
Michael David was his name, he was minorly famous in their home town as a home-grown football player.
Not only did he live to play, but being painfully shy, he played and practiced as a way to avoid socialising.
Only very rarely did he take up the celebrity opportunities offered by his fellow town folk.
Passionately bonded were Ruth and Michael, yet I was allowed in, a privilege not granted to many.
Quite unexpectedly Michael died.
Reality is that he killed himself.
Such a shock. Such a godawful heart-stopping shock.
The whole family knew he was depressed, scared he might hurt someone, having received a diagnosis of schizophrenia a few years earlier.
Ultimately, he was waiting anxiously to see what he might do and that fear just overwhelmed him.
Very very sad, Ruth was a mess; I held her and listened and held her some more.
With love, with kindness, with friendship. What else would a friend do?
Xena and Gabrielle would do the same for each other, Warriors both.
Yet despite this profound connection, she pushed me away, no longer wanting my friendship.
Zero, nada, niets, rien de rien remains; I grieve, I am wounded, yet I can see now what happened.