{"id":2252,"date":"2024-12-09T13:47:43","date_gmt":"2024-12-09T13:47:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/?p=2252"},"modified":"2024-12-09T13:47:47","modified_gmt":"2024-12-09T13:47:47","slug":"connection","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/connection\/2252\/","title":{"rendered":"Connection"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

In memory<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

of all friendships<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

lost to silence<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cHey.\u201d Sent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                Sitting in her half-lit bedroom, Kate kept staring at the phone screen. It was more than a year between their last \u201cgoodnight\u201d and today\u2019s message.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

                God, time flies. They were on the phone every day, sharing jokes, making plans, and dreaming of the future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she got a new job and moved to another country. The breaks between their talks started to get longer \u2014 but who was to blame? She was busy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                The message caught Dave off guard. He stopped doing the dishes, turned off the water, and sat at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                Time flies. She was still around, like a ghost. In her favourite cafes, art classes they used to do together, gifts she gave him, and things she would\u2019ve liked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                He tried to stay in touch after she moved away, but things got difficult when he lost his job. He was busy. Eventually, he didn\u2019t expect to talk to Kate ever again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cHey,\u201d he replied. \u201cHow are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                Kate didn\u2019t expect to get a reply so fast. Or at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                She looked through the room. Photos with her new friends on the wall; souvenirs from her travels; overwhelming pack of work documents to go through; a box with the gifts from all her \u201csituationships\u201d that never worked out; and, near the bin, a \u201cwellbeing\u201d journal that she gave up on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she couldn\u2019t throw it all on Dave after a year of silence, could she?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cGood,\u201d she replied, \u201csettled in. What about you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cGood, too,\u201d Dave replied. \u201cNothing major.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                He looked around. There was, stacked in between kitchen napkins, a pack of hospital bills from when his mum got ill. On the fridge, travel photos from when she\u2019s recovered. And, covered by a magnet, a note with a phone number – Martha. He smiled involuntarily. Had the bravery to ask for it, but not enough to call. Kate would\u2019ve forced him to do that, he thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                It\u2019s unfair. A year ago, he wouldn\u2019t need to update Kate on his life because she would\u2019ve known it all as it happens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He missed it. He missed her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cThat\u2019s good,\u201d Kate replied, not knowing what to say next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                The silence lingered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This conversation was awkwardly short and inappropriately cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was as if they never went hiking and ran from a deer, never arrived at a random city because of a lost bet. As if they had never baked cakes in the middle of the night and danced without the music. It was as if he hadn\u2019t cooked for her on days when she couldn\u2019t look after herself. As if she wasn\u2019t a shoulder to cry on every time his relationships ended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                Shit, Kate thought. Is this how it ends? Not that easy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cWanna have a video chat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

. . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

                \u201cSure!\u201d Dave texted back instantly. \u201cI\u2019ve so much to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes, lost doesn\u2019t mean gone.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In memory of all friendships lost to silence . . .                 \u201cHey.\u201d Sent.                 Sitting in her half-lit bedroom, Kate kept staring at the phone screen. It was more than a year between their last \u201cgoodnight\u201d and today\u2019s message.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1129,1467],"tags":[1102,114,756,680,8,7,1469,1468,283,1396,799,14,896,11,172],"class_list":["post-2252","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1129","category-dec-2024-regret","tag-between","tag-but","tag-dave","tag-got","tag-he","tag-her","tag-hey","tag-kate","tag-lost","tag-phone","tag-replied","tag-she","tag-silence","tag-was","tag-when"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-Ak","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2252","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2252"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2252\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2254,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2252\/revisions\/2254"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2252"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2252"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2252"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}