Toys in the Attic

When I was young, there was this kid who everybody made fun of, but he had some really nice toys, and he was really a nice kid, so I played with him.  But I never admitted to my other friends that I did, because they all thought he was a dork, and I didn't want them thinking I was a dork, too, for playing with him.

 

But it always bothered me.  It bothered me at the time when I was playing with that kid, and the memory haunted me ever since.  Because it was just wrong to pretend to like somebody when you're with him, but to laugh at him behind his back.   

 

It bothered me so much that I decided to make things right, even after all those years.  So I decided to find that guy.  And I did.  He was still living in the same neighborhood, in the same house, where he grew up.  So I bought the tickets and I went back home.  I pretended it was just to visit my folks, but the real reason was to find that guy after all those years and apologize to him.  The old house wasn't hard to find, and when I knocked, it was him.  He was older, sure, but I still recognized him.  And he recognized me.

 

Standing there, on his porch, I told him how sorry I was to have done that, how sorry I was that I had been such a jerk all those years ago.  I didn't expect his forgiveness.  I just wanted him to know that I was sorry.

 

Standing there, on his porch, is when I found out that's why he had been playing with me all those years ago, because he liked my toys.  Because he felt sorry for me.  And just like me, he hadn't told his other friends he was hanging out with me because he thought I was the dork.  I was somebody they made fun of when I wasn't around.  The only difference was that he had no intention ever of apologizing to me.  In fact, he hadn't thought about me once since the fifth grade.  Standing there on the porch.  There's an awkward moment.