Bridges

First Posted May 9th, 2009

Teri and I met at an amusement park the summer before our senior year of high school. We were introduced by my friend, Shane, who had met Teri and her cousin earlier that night. I got Teri’s phone number and promised her I would call. To be more accurate, what I got was just half of her phone number. Shane remembered the other half. With nothing to write the number down on, we decided it would be safer if we got just one of the girls’ phone numbers, and then each remembered half.

When the park closed, we said goodbye to the girls and headed for home. For an hour and a half we repeated our part of the phone number, over and over to ourselves and to each other. Neither of us wanted to forget our part and let the other down. Randomly, Shane would call out his half, and I would quickly follow up with mine. Finally we arrived home and quickly got the number safely down on paper.

Several times that summer, Shane and I made that long drive from Evanston, Wyoming to Ogden, Utah to see the girls. But, by the end of summer, Shane’s romance was cooling off. Unfortunately for me, my truck was always in the shop and so I depended on Shane for a ride. I thought for sure my relationship with Teri was doomed as well. That is until she introduced Shane to another cousin. Things progressed well and in no time, my ride to Ogden was as good as gold for the next few months.

When you’re a teenager, relationships are complicated enough without adding a 150 mile round trip drive to every date. But Shane and I loved the road and made the trip as often as we could find the time and the money for gas. One cold winter evening, we were hanging out at my house, trying to decide what to do for the next few hours. It was a school night and already dark outside. “Let’s go to Ogden,” one of us wisely suggested. “Sounds good to me,” offered the other. And off we went.

This was a fun little romance that lasted all of my senior year of high school. Then one day, as suddenly as it had began, it was over. My mom’s husband got a job transfer and we were moving to Reno. It was about this same time that Shane also decided it was time he moved back to Boise. At first, I was hoping Teri and I could make it work, but, deep down I knew it would be too hard. 75 miles from Evanston to Ogden was hard enough, I figured 500 miles would be impossible.

All my life I have moved. I hated it. And I also learned to embrace it. I knew I couldn’t stop what was happening, so I always went along as best I could. But, I also ruined a few relationships along the way as well. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized that every time my family moved, I would subconsciously destroy everything I was leaving, burn every bridge, and wreak havoc wherever I could. The only thing I can figure is that I didn’t want the move to hurt me, so somewhere along the way I discovered it was easier to push everyone I loved away from me before I left.

I waited a few days and told her about the upcoming move after my prom. When I told her about the job transfer, we were sitting on a heat radiator, near the back door of the gym. All dressed up in our matching powder blue formal wear, we held each other and talked about how we would make it work. I tried to be nice. I said all the right things. I even deeply wished our relationship could go on. But, I knew it was over. Already, I was beginning to check out as fast as I could. Already, the pyromaniac was hard at work. Already, he was uncontrollably planning how he would torch everything.

Later that night, after going to a friend’s house to watch a movie, Teri and I made the long drive back to Ogden. I got her safely home and immediately started back to Evanston. I thought about how great the last year had been, how much I enjoyed the time we had spent together, how much I would miss her when it was all over. The sun came up as I made my way slowly up the canyon toward home. At times it shined straight into my tired and red eyes. I was sad, angry and lonely. But I knew all these feelings would eventually pass in time.

Teri and I talked a couple times on the phone, but I didn’t see her again before the big move. I just couldn’t do it.

I did see her one other time, about a year later. She was engaged.

Shane and I were in Evanston one weekend, visiting old friends. We decided on a whim to also make a stop in Ogden. It took us a while to find her. We searched all over Ogden for a family member who could tell us where she was. Finally, it was Shane’s old girlfriend who suggested we try Teri at work. We found her behind the customer service counter at the store where she had been working for a few months. Between phone calls and customers, we caught up.

It was great to see her, but it was hard too. We were still friends and still felt the closeness we had enjoyed the year before, but everything was changed now, all twisted around.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry for the way I left town. I wanted to tell her I wished things could have turned out differently. But it didn’t matter anymore, she was gone. We had both moved on and apart from each other.



In the 20 years that followed, I thought about her many times, especially when I took the freeway through Ogden. I remembered the fun times we had in those carefree days of high school. I wondered how she was, if she was still married, if she ever forgave me for the way I ran away.

Two days after signing up for Facebook she sent me an email. “Hey... Is the Clark Graff that went to Evanston High, rode bikes and was also known as Click?” I had forgotten she called me Click. No one has called me Click for more than 20 years.

At first it didn’t really register that it was her. Then, after I got over the initial surprise, it took me a while to decide what I was going to do; should I dig up the past or let it go forever? Late that night, I finally decided that at least I owed her a response. “One and the same,” I confirmed. “How in the world are you!”

“I am awesome!” she replied in her email. “I am excited that it was you!! How are you doing? We have to catch up?”

The question mark at the end of her last sentence threw me. Either it was a mistake, or she was putting the ball squarely in my court. Either way, it was my choice: accept her as a friend, and bridge over the past 20 years, or let it go and never look back.

I decided to catch up with an old friend.



The past few days have been very strange for me. I feel like someone has taken a box that contains my compartmentalized and linear life. They have shaken it up and handed it back to me with a smile that says, "Here you go, figure this one out!" I think I am figuring it out though. The Teri of the past is gone. The Clark she knew is gone as well. For a year we meant everything to each other, and I blew it. She moved on. I moved on. Life moved on.

Now we have the opportunity to start again as good-old, long-lost friends.

Today I emailed her and said I was so sorry for the way I had treated her when I left. I told her I was an idiot for the way I had ended our relationship. I tried to explain that if I burned all bridges and left nothing but ashes, I thought it somehow wouldn't hurt as much. But, I told her, it still did hurt. It hurt us both, and I'm sorry.

She hasn’t replied yet. I hope she can forgive me. We have some rebuilding to do.