“She was convinced that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should meet.”
Pride and Prejudice
Four years ago, when I was still in high school, my friend gave me a treasure trove of novels, short stories, poems, and other pieces which have stuck with me all these years.
This is a post about not only the pieces I am currently reading and rereading, which my friend introduced me to, but about reading back into my past, constantly remembering things I wouldn’t have thought of, and reexamining so many different aspects of my life.
My friend was amazing. Someone I held close to my heart, she would reinforce my love for literature by encouraging me to constantly relay with her the things I would read about. You see, there’s something pleasurable about deconstructing a book with a friend like you would a movie or a television show. Literature isn’t something you have to constantly psychoanalyze or read between the lines. I remember always running up to my mother after every Dragon Ball Z episode! I would constantly tell her about the things that happened every episode, mimicking their impossible-to-imitate actions. My mom had no clue what I was saying (and yet she still listened to me!).
Simply put, it’s great to have an outlet of some sort. My friend, she was my outlet.
The first book I remember the two of us discussing was Pride and Prejudice. Why? It was one of her favorite books. I remember how much she loved Mr. Darcy. There’s something alluring about him. A rich man (certainly more than rich enough to draw in any gold digger), he appears shallow and heartless. In reality, Mr. Darcy was much more than that. Appearance isn’t all there is to a character, and Mr. Darcy’s character was much more complex than any other character’s past in the story.
And yes, the same can be said about my friend. I remember reading her as a soft-hearted, fluffy, cotton candy-like person, but then as time went on, and chapters of our story unfolded, I found out that she was a loyal person as well, someone who held onto their beliefs firmly and would never have betrayed her friends. She was hard-working too (she’s a Slytherin).
I skimmed through the books (Oliver Twist, Count of Monte Cristo, The Alchemist, Stargirl) briefly and all these memories started flooding down the gates of my mind. It’s strange! Sometimes it feels like we’ve buried the past when really it’s always there, lurking in the basement of the mind.
Pride and Prejudice for me is the Madeleine for Marcel Proust: I can’t help but remember more and more of the past which I thought I buried away. I can’t help but continue flipping the pages.
Another novel (and series) I can’t help but express so much love for (which this unnamed friend of mine recommended me) was Harry Potter. It’s funny how I never actually read the series until the day she handed me the books.
The one thing we both shared in common was our love for Snape. Oh, Snape, we hated that we loved you but we loved that we hated you. While I can’t remember what made her love Snape so much, in my case it was his bittersweet love for Lily. The fact that he held onto his love for so many years, even throughout Harry’s maturation, dumbfounded me and even surprised me. His willingness to sacrifice himself (honorable, I must say, just like my name) made me shed a couple tears.
But this is where I deviate from literature for a bit. Although the literature is important (this is a currently reading post, after all!) there’s something important within these memories.
See, what sparked my friendship with my friend was that another mutual friend introduced us (because, according to this mutual friend, we were both “dorks”) and we ended up just clicking. We’d constantly discuss literature. She taught me so many different things too! I actually had these quirks in my speech (I can’t remember them all, but she would sit down with me and we’d use her advanced grammar learning books and she’d help me fix my quirks), like saying ‘duh’ instead of ‘the’ (the ‘th’ sound is still a conscious struggle of mine, which adds for awkward pauses in my speech and even more awkward moments wherein I over-generate the ‘th’ sound, having people question if I’m a wannabe Brit, which I’m really conscious of). Reading into the sinews of my past experiences because of my all-time favorites let me experience these memories again.
Another thing I remember was our habit of buying each other books. I remember getting her Pride and Prejudice! I also gave her a Harry Potter poker card set, ha. I remember her getting me the entire Sherlock Holmes set, Gray’s Anatomy (the actual medical textbook because we were both Pre-Med majors), and a grammar book (which was hilarious). I still have all these books. These novels have entrenched themselves within my heart, connecting her in proximity to me.
Writing this, I can’t help but wonder, “Did I love her?” There’s a part in me that says yes, but another part that says, “I didn’t realize I loved her at the time,” and I wholeheartedly regret that. It’s upsetting. I remember all the times I’d pour out my woes to her. I remember getting angry (literally furious to the point that I’d probably spout venomous poison) really easy at the littlest of things, and her erudite presence would be enough to soothe me.
As I reach the end of these chapters of a brief history, it hurts my heart to remember that we’re not friends anymore. Simply put, I was a terrible friend and something erupted in her and so the sinews binding us together broke. I don’t regret one bit our experiences together and can only pray to Allah to bless her the way I know she blessed me.
At last, the story ends and the curtains begin to fall. I look back with bittersweet remembrance at that time of my youth which fostered my love for literature.
Onur A. Ayaz
The Junction Journal 