F is an old close friend whom I have not seen or heard of for about 14 years.I received a phone call last week and immediately recognized the husky voice. We caught up with the main events in our lives along these years. It was a moment from the past to exchange news with an old friend through a telephone call. No e-mails, no cyber social networks, just the good old way.
He was a very good friend for few years. To say an unforgettable character is an understatement. Spontaneous, genuine and so aggressive and so fragile at the same time. I still remember one day in a busy street at the business district in a foreign city, where we were both expatriates working in two different fields, when F began crying, even sobbing, in an emotional moment before he left to the airport. His stay in that country came to an end and he could not restrain his tears. There we were two grown up men in the middle of the street, one cried and the other tried to comfort. A picture shattering the cliché of Middle Eastern men! I still also remember my feelings at that moment. A mixture of helplessness (regarding the situation), embarrassment (at being the target of the staring passers) and compassion (with him. Some moments might not bear special significance in our lives, but we can not forget though. That was one of these moments.
After his first call, F called me again few days later to invite me for a dinner with our old group of friends. I have not seen some of them for more than 15 years. And some of them have not seen each other for a quite long time too. I was caught by the moment and accepted the invitation. But after I hang up I felt the idea was rather ridiculous. What could link 7 or 8 persons who once, long time ago, were good friends? Only the memories. Besides, one or two among the group I would not be thrilled to renew the contacts with for some reasons. Outdated reasons, but who ever said that being outdated weakened validity? I called F later to apologize but he insisted. He said that some of the friends accepted the invitation only when they knew I would be there. I did not believe him. I thought he lied to convince me to come but his lie worked anyway.
I was the first to arrive at the not so crowded restaurant. Then they started to arrive. I shook hands with someone whom I would have never recognized if we have met face to face accidentally. He complimented me on my unchanged look, and I found I had nothing to say but to lie and compliment him on his look too. He might have just started a lie and I ended it. We were 10 persons. I sat next to F at the head of the table thinking that that position would guarantee me the minimum interaction with the others. And I was right.
Faces changed. Attitudes remained the same. Compliments were exchanged. Questions and answers, well rehearsed, were raised and delivered in flat voices. By the end of the dinner some suggested another meeting. I smiled and said inshalla.
On my way back I looked at the chaotic busy streets and thought that nothing drastically changed in my home town, but nothing nonetheless remained the same. I think, in the eyes of the old friends, this same remark also applied to me. The basic "me" is there except some white hairs, hint of wrinkles, a shorter temper sometimes and a more apparent lack of interest other times.
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