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I had a friend in high school. Let’s call him Eijun.
He was loud, opinionated, had a habit of speaking out of turn and wasn’t afraid to speak to his mind. Especially if it was something he felt strongly about. Almost as a result, those around him had no reservations ragging on him and pushing him around just a little. Only in part because he deserved it (he was extraordinarily obnoxious), but mostly because he was a hardy guy, thick-skinned, and came back the next day, ready to go at it all again as if nothing had happened.
As we got towards those final years, he settled into himself. He became no less loud and no less opinionated, but anyone would only have to spend a bit of time with him to see that underneath that all was someone that was steadfast and open. To everyone. He would treat everyone the same, regardless of where they fit in the hierarchy or how they treated him. Naturally, this was reflected by the large and varied number of people that he interacted with.
Without anyone really noticing he’d grown big and tall as well.
Not the tallest and he didn’t have one of those massive growth spurts like some of other guys did. I remember after coming back for the start of a new school year and noticing that I had to readjust my line of sight to look him in the eye. In many ways it reflected how he’d grown over those short years. No one really saw it happen, but when we next looked he had gone from one of the shorter ones to standing equal, if not that little bit taller. But perhaps that was due to the presence about him, and it grew every day. It made people sit up and take notice. Everyone was still happy to rib him and poke fun, but no one dared push him around anymore.
Even so, he was always just shy of reaching that top spot.
I would like to say that I kept in touch with him after we finished. In a sense, we did because we all ran in the same circles and went on to do much the same thing, so our paths would cross often enough. There were also the social get-togethers, reunions if you will, but our own interpersonal contact was limited to a few private messages and forgotten promises to meet up.
As the time went on, we all got stuck into our own paths, our own journeys. We’d all still see each other – some more than others – but the meet-ups outside of necessity or for special occasions became less and less frequent. Of course, we still all kept tabs on each other, through word of mouth and the various media available and could see that everyone was progressing nicely in their own directions. All except Eijun. He was doing really well. Better, in fact, than anyone had expected.
And though no one would admit it, probably better than any of the rest of us.
He was leaving. The country that is. Moving on to bigger and better things. Taking on bigger challenges, going to have opportunities that is still a distant a dream for many of us and he would no doubt grow even more from it. Honestly, it's not all that uncommon and it’s not as though quite a few of us wouldn’t make it to that point, but we wouldn’t have imagined that out of all us, Eijun would be the one to reach that check point first.
When I’d heard (and then later seen) the news, I almost didn’t believe it. Though it really shouldn’t have surprised me. Because Eijun had been defying all expectations since he’d finished, as he had back when we were at school. Even with our limited contact it wasn’t hard to see how he continued to excel. Continued to grow. From afar, it now seems so much more obvious. I wonder if his growth during our high school days was just as blatant and we just hadn’t noticed because we saw every painstaking day of his progress. Where each little step and each level became the new normal and we just saw the little steps, but missed the big strides that they accumulated to.
I made sure to get in contact with him before he left and we blocked out a few hours to catch up.
It was nice. Really nice. Eijun was still very much the same, all loud and bright, so bright, but there was also an air calm confidence about him that hadn’t been there before, he was more self-assured. An odd thought given that I’d always found him to be quite confident, often in excess and always unnecessarily verbal about it. I tucked that thought away for a later time.
We spoke about what we’d been up to, the people in our lives and the new experiences we’d made, but mostly we reminisced about our days back at school. I brought up one particular memory, one that’s often recalled fondly in our circle as a really funny anecdote. It’s also one of many such anecdotes where Eijun was the butt of the joke.
To my surprise, the jovial mood between us instantly vanished. Eijun no longer leaning back relaxed in his chair, but staring down at his hands in his lap, frowning a little, pensive. It’s not an expression that I’d ever seen on him before and I wasn’t sure what to make of it, let alone what to do with it. Luckily, after a moment, Eijun delivered the solution and told me what was on his mind.
He leaned forward, arms crossed on the table and looking at me intently. He didn’t say anything for a bit, but kept watching at me, like he was searching for something. Eyes burning. Intensely bright. He tells me about how he often still thinks of moments like those, when we’d all have a good jab and laugh at his expense. Particularly one that I’d mentioned. But as it turns out, he doesn’t remember them as favorably, at least not all the time. He explained that he knew that there was nothing to it, but sometimes in his quiet moments it would get to him. He would wonder if we treated like that and said those things because we didn’t take him seriously - didn’t think he could make it.
He ran those long fingers of his through his hair and stressed that he knows that we didn’t mean anything by it. He let out a little chuckle and mumbled a comment into the hand that had gone from tangling in his hair to scrubbing down his face. Most of what he said lost, though I did manage to catch one word.
“Insecurities?” I couldn’t help but ask. It was hard to hide my bewilderment.
His eyes shift up to look at me. Searching again before his mouth pulled into a small doleful smile.
“I wasn’t able to make it in the end. I always did my best, but it was never quite enough.”
Stupidly, I found myself unable to say a word. I wish I had said something at that moment, but how could I? What would I say?
We wrapped things up pretty soon after that. I managed to find the words to tell him that I was glad that he didn’t take it those things to heart. The words tasted bitter on my tongue.
I wished him luck and a safe trip. Eijun beamed, back to his usual cheery self and I found myself pulled into a tight hug.
“Thank you. For everything”
His voice was a little muffled by my shoulder. A little bit later I would find a patch of drying wetness on the material.
I felt him give me one last squeeze before pulling away. He was still beaming, but his eyes were shining and there was no way I could have missed the way his bottom lashes were sticking together with moisture.
We parted ways and over his shoulder, he gave me a wave and smile before turning the corner and walking out of sight.
A little while later, I Liked his airport check-in status.
A good while later, I started seeing snapshots of his new life. New faces, odd looking places and different colours.
The gap was widening. He was just getting further and further away. It’s funny when I think that that loud kid that everyone used to pick on a little, had shot so far ahead. I’m sure that some of us will catch up to where he is sooner or later - and I plan to - but I wonder how much further will he have gone by then?
An even longer while later, I found myself clicking through some photos of him at a black-tie function. Looking smart – dressed to the nines, hair shorter than I’d ever seen on him, but slick and stylish. He received an award it seems. In the pictures he’s surrounded by increasingly familiar faces – familiar mostly because I’d become used to seeing them alongside his.
It’s also an indicator that even though he doesn’t look like that like dirty kid with crazy hair anymore, he’s probably still very much the same; brash and outspoken in a way that draws people in despite themselves.
Even now, oceans apart and miles away I wish I were there, or maybe, that he were here. If only that I could selfishly have some of that radiance to myself. To bask under it and feel its warmth.
Back in those days, back in school, we were all so busy shooting for the stars at distant and lofty heights that we missed the birth of one right in our midst. We definitely felt the heat. That of a bright, burning hot sun in the early stages of its formation, and we all gravitated towards it and began to orbit, but before we were able to fully comprehend what was happening, it was gone.
I had a friend in high school. His name is Eijun. He is one of those distant stars.
Blindingly bright, even at a distance.
Out of reach.
At least for now.