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My long-lost-but-recently-found friend came to visit today bringing with him his appetite. Apparently, he could smell my mom’s spaghetti from his house across the road. However often he visits, I must admit that I’m still surprised each and every time. Pleasantly, I think. Though I’m sure familiarity would kick in pretty soon.

His first ever surprise came two weeks before graduation. From out of the caf I saw him in the hallway, flanked by his boy buddies as usual. As we were walking, Jill was complaining about the principal’s announcement prescribing longer skirts for us next year. I was trailing behind the girls, with Chrissie at my side. I had no intention of looking his way.

But then he just happened to be standing where they posted the notice that was making Jill all worked up. She pointed at it as we passed, and he and I locked gazes. Not one second later, he gave me a cursory nod. Unprepared, I pretended as if nothing had happened and walked on.

“Did Carlo just give you a nod?” Chrissie asked, brows furrowed.

“I think so,” I said, suddenly unsure, wondering if he had a crick in the neck.

“That’s odd,” she remarked, and my best friend was understating it.

What was odd about it is that it’s been three years since anything that friendly has ever happened between Carlo and me. The last time we acknowledged each other’s existence, we had agreed as usual, to meet at the village park on a Saturday to play house. We had a storyline, too. We were orphaned siblings trying to survive without our parents by taking odd jobs while studying to become rocket scientists. That particular Saturday, Carlo decided that our lives were going to take a turn for the worse. He was going to get laid off from the local fast food store for putting mustard in the ketchup bottles. I was going to suggest that he go to the States to work so he can send me my favorite chocolates. Immediately after I made the suggestion, I heard basketball dribbling and someone shouting, “Hey Carlo! Want to shoot some hoops?” He told me tor pretend like he went to work abroad while he played basketball for awhile. He never came back. And for two Saturdays after that, I played at the tree house alone, pretending to have a blast with all the chocolates he hadn’t sent.

After that, I stopped waiting. I’d see him in school but he’d be too busy heckling with all the boys. I’d see him in the village but he’d always be on the courts playing basketball. I’d see him leave his house and go home but it always seemed like he was too far to hear me shout or see me wave. After a while, I guess we just forgot that we’d ever been friends… Until that day.

Dismissal time and he asked me if I needed a ride home, in which case, he and his dad can take me. I had to look behind me just to make sure that he was asking me the question. I managed to say, “School bus,” after realizing that he was.

I tossed and turned in my sleep that night, uneasy. The next day, recess, before leaving for the caf, he offered me candy. Then and there, I knew I had to set him straight or get my head in order or both.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked.

The poor guy blinked. “What are you talking about?” he asked me back.

“You heard me,” I stated simplu, annoyed that he almost made me admit I’d noticed that we haven’t talked in three years. He obviously underestimated my pride.

Carlo looked me straight in the eye, “We used to be friends,” he finally said, with a hint of persuasion in his voice.

And I thought — three years ago, this boy made me wish that I were a boy too so I could still hang out with him. And I’m not sure I cried, but I remember being the drama queen one lonely Saturday afternoon and putting away all the toys we had played with together. But then there he was that day, with a pack of gummi worms in one outstretched hand and for some reason, he was once again the person that I felt I could trust. I didn’t have to think it over for very long.

I reached for a red-colored candy. “Ah, but you forget. We used to be more than friends…” I trailed off, for emphasis. “We used to be brother and sister,” I finished off, in mock seriousness.

He laughed even before my punchline. I meant to demand that he owe me chocolates for all my waiting but I guess I’d really rather have someone to laugh with about the sweets — than the sweets. And so I let it go… (Thinking, maybe one of these days, I can get away with having both).