I was momentarily stunned to see the familiar face at the wet market yesterday. The face was older but I was sure it was her. She didn’t see me even though she stood beside me. After telling the butcher what I wanted, I turned around and looked at her again. Then I stepped forward to acknowledge her. She couldn’t utter my name immediately but she remembered me, I think. I mean, how could she not? We were the “best of pals” in our secondary school.

Maybe she didn’t know it but she had made a significant impact during my puberty. She was the one who paved the way for my first date, the one who taught me more about boy-girl relationships and the one who gave me my first taste of betrayal. We went to school together. We went home together. We were almost inseparable. But behind that closeness lied a silent rivalry. She didn’t like the comments her boyfriends passed about me and I didn’t like the praises the art teacher heaped on her.

Anyway, we drifted apart after leaving our secondary school. I went to college while she pursued a private education. Subsequently, she left for States and I thought she would have settled there for good. Apparently not. I caught that slight flinch when I mentioned that yesterday and I didn’t ask further.

The only thing we learnt from each other was the number of children we have. Maybe the sight of those raw meat wasn’t the best way to invoke any further decent conversation and so we stood quietly and eventually parted ways without even saying goodbye.

I felt a tinge of sadness at the end of it all. I thought quite a bit about her over the years. She was afterall, an important part of my past. But I know she doesn’t want to keep up the friendship anymore. Neither do I. I guess some things are better left behind.

We might meet again, who knows. But I did wonder. If she was better dressed yesterday, would I have gone up to acknowledge her in my shabby attire?