The Falling Part: A Best Friend Kind of Love

This story is about one kind of love only lucky people get to experience, a kind of love that enters your heart and never leaves.

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Did you ever have a best friend with whom you would laugh until your stomach hurt?

Did you ever hold hands with a best friend, just because it felt like the right thing to do?  And even though holding hands was certainly an "I love you" thing, it wasn't necessarily a romantic thing?

Did you ever imagine marrying your best friend for no reason other than that you felt high as a kite just by being together?

Did you ever have a best friend with whom you could talk on the phone for hours, and the only reason you would get off the phone is because your mom said "That's enough for tonight...time to get off"?  And you would get off, and then remember you forgot to tell him something important, so you'd get back on, and then talk and laugh for another hour...and your mom didn't really get mad because she could see how happy you were?

Did you ever have a best friend that you loved so much that you felt happy when he found a new girlfriend--even though it wasn't you?

Did you ever have a best friend break your heart temporarily, and then win your forgiveness by coming back to you right after you had set him free?

Did you ever love someone who took over a large portion of your heart, and then just stayed there forever, no matter what became of your friendship over the years?

I did.  Pete was this kind of friend for me.

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Not long after my first date with Dad, I was honored to enjoy my second date, with Pete Saiben.

Pete played the trumpet, I played the flute and the piccolo.  He sang tenor, I sang soprano.  We marched in the marching band together, we went on all of the band and jazz choir trips together, we competed in the state competitions together, we rehearsed during and after school together.  These gatherings made for plenty of time to enjoy each other's company, with a little horsing around on the side.

"Stop flirting, Jenny!" fellow band member Brandon said one day, during a break in our rehearsal, after I teasingly dropped a pen in Pete's shirt pocket. 

"What?  I'm not flirting."  I rebutted, confused.

I didn't understand why Brandon would say such a thing.  That was a funny moment to me--the moment I learned that all this time I had been mistaken about the definition of the word "flirting."  I had thought it meant only those funny teasing things girls do in cartoons.  Like when Minnie Mouse would bat her long eyelashes at Mickey.  Or when all those animals in the movie Bambi delved into the world of twitterpation, as the females lured the males in with their high pitched giggles and coy looks over their shoulders.  I wasn't doing any of that stuff, so what could Brandon mean by accusing me of flirting?

It turned out Brandon was right, of course, and probably just about everything I did in the beginning of my relationship with Pete could be considered flirting.  I would do just about anything to win his attention, because Pete was beautiful.  His light blonde hair, sharp facial features, and average athletic build (with the exception of his cute little skinny legs) demanded my notice.  But most importantly, Pete was hilarious.

Pete had the biggest funny bone of anyone I had ever known.  Everything he said was brilliantly witty.  Not only that, but he could make really good sound effects and talk in funny voices.  My favorite was when he would cup his hand over his mouth and pretend like he was making announcements over a CB radio.   He was also really good at quoting Saturday Night Live skits, which always made him seem like a comedic genius (especially since I'd never seen that show, because I wasn't allowed to).

I suppose most of Pete's jokes were of the "you had to be there" variety, but he always knew how to get a laugh out of his audience.  He made everything fun, including English class, math class, and every class.  Sometimes we had to be separated seating-chart-wise because of our disruptive laughter, which was a bummer, but of course that couldn't deter a connection like ours.

No wonder I was thrilled to accept as my second official date, Pete's invitation to go out for pizza.  Shooting our straw wrappers at each other across the booth built for two, and going for drives in his noisy little Volkswagen Bug hold their place in my collection of sweet moments during my earliest dating months. 

One more memory of note from my privileged second date, which I incidentally almost regret to report (even though I find it amusing, now), is that my dating decorum was yet quite immature in at least one sense; even though Pete was my first choice in dating companions on that evening, Pete had to ask me directly to please stop mentioning Scott (that is, Chicago's Broken Heart Scott, with whom I was still exchanging occasional snail mail).  Oops!  Sorry, Pete.  Still learning. 

The summer just after my sophomore year proved that Pete and I didn't rely solely on school to bring us together.  As we were both sixteen and had cars to drive, the couple of miles between our houses were easily surmountable.  Easily traveled as well were the distances to each others' summer jobs downtown--his at Pizza Barn, and mine at Four Way Fitness Center.  It was always a highlight to sneak in a visit only long enough to not get in trouble by our bosses. 

To be true to history, I wish to divulge that my friendship with Pete wasn't 100% consistent.  We did have our ups and downs.  There were times when I wanted more than friendship with him, especially in the beginning.  Things didn't really develop that way for us though.  When he started to like one of my best friends, Krissy, we grew apart for a bit.  I remember a rough conversation I had with Krissy over the phone when she told me she and Pete had kissed...

"I just feel like if I don't get to have him, no one should," I said.  How selfish of me.  I'm grateful that despite Krissy's shock at my less-than-gracious attitude, she and I have all remained life-long friends.  Over time, Pete and I both went through our share of flings, and we were able to maintain our friendship through it all, most of the time.

Journal Entry, 7 February 1991:
I talked to Pete on the phone again tonight, he called me, but it wasn't good.  To make a long story short, he said he needed some space.  I've noticed that we haven't been close lately, and of course that makes me really sad.  They say "distance makes the heart grow fonder," but what if we just keep getting more and more distant and end up not even being friends?  I almost cried over the phone.

8 February:
School was okay with Pete, after awhile, but not during Pre-Cal; we didn't talk.  In English we did.  I cried really hard during first hour (choir), it was awful, but all my friends were there for me, that made me feel better.

10 February:
It's Sunday again.  Pete called me this morning, I guess I blew things way out of proportion thinking that we weren't friends anymore.

Whew!  Although in hind sight it seems like a brief moment of pain, that was one of our worst downs.   The earthquake that hit our friendship that February had one more little aftershock before the end of the month...

On February 24th, I called Pete on the phone to get things cleared up.  I told him I couldn't tell if we were friends anymore and I needed to know. 

"The last thing I want is to not be friends with you.  Do you think we'll ever be close again?"  I asked, already crying.

"You make it sound like we'll never be friends again," he answered.

"That's what it seems like to me," I replied sadly.

"It's not that I don't want to be friends, I just get so mad at you sometimes!" Pete confessed.

"I haven't changed, Pete." I said, pleading for his patience and understanding.

The conversation continued a few minutes more, and finally after a short moment of silence and with tears pouring down my face, I said, "Well, I'm here if you need me.  It was nice talking to you."  I hung up and let the emotional flood gates restrain me no longer.  I called a girlfriend and she cheered me up a little, and then I got out my favorite photo of Pete and myself and cried some more.  We looked so happy.

The next day at school brought a breath of fresh air;  Pete was his old self again.  My perception is that we had hit our rock bottom, and from there were able to rise up and together repair any hurt feelings with our familiar medicinal laughter.  My friend had come back to me.  My heart forgave and healed as if the wounds had never existed.

Our good times and laughter saw us through the rest of our high school years and on through graduation.  He helped me get through Chemistry and English, I helped him get through Pre-Calculus and Calculus.  Our band and choir excursions were continually fun-ified by Pete's clever rap lyrics projected through his CB radio hand.  And most importantly, whenever I needed someone to buoy up my soul, he was only a phone call away. 

I must tell you one final and most significant part of our story.  Pete and I have an unresolved conflict.  It developed primarily after high school, and it has weighed on my heart for many years.

For almost all of high school, Pete was not religious.  Towards the end of his teenage years, he began to discover the gospel of Jesus Christ and hungered for the blessings that living a Christian life brings.  After much investigation of both the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and one other non-denominational church in our town (which ironically was led by an ex-Mormon who actively preached against Mormonism), Pete decided to join with those of the anti-Mormon faith.  I am forever grateful that Pete has become a follower of Christ and even has dedicated his life, as a pastor in his own church now, to introducing others to the wonderful blessings of the gospel.  But it pains my heart that his personal beliefs now lead him to consider me a lost soul who belongs to a church which he believes to be an unworthy and unrighteous institution.

Our differences in faith never interfered with our feelings of mutual admiration when we were younger, but now as adults, this small but seemingly impenetrable barrier between us leaves me longing for closure.  I debated including an entire separate chapter on this unsettling element of my relationship with Pete (for the details of his conversion, including his marrying the daughter of the ex-Mormon preacher, are interesting to say the least).  But I wished instead to merely summarize it, so that we can all hopefully leave this chapter with only the sweet aftertaste of the delicious happiness that I received and cherish from our relationship. 

Pete and I stayed in touch beyond high school, through college, and a little even now that we have our own families.  I know he still cares for me.  Pete will always own a part of my heart, and I'm so grateful for that!