.jpg "I Asked Four Former Friends Why We Stopped Speaking. Here’s What I Learned")
I Asked Four Former Friends Why We Stopped Speaking. Here’s What I Learned
On a warm July evening, I dove into bed and grabbed my phone, giddy and anxious. As I scrolled through TikTok, attempting to calm my nerves, a Google Calendar notification flashed on the screen: “VIDEO CALL WITH SIMONE.”
Before I could swipe the reminder away, Simone FaceTimed me. I attempted to rehearse my greeting as the call buffered: Should I keep it cool with a, “Hey, what’s good?” No, that sounds cold. What about a Keke Palmer-esque, “Girl!” No, that’s doing too much. “Good evening?” No, it’s not evening her time, that doesn’t even make sen—
I couldn’t help but crack a smile. As I’d learned over the course of our six-year friendship, her warmth never failed to replace my anxiety with joy.
She was right. Though Simone is my closest friend, we don’t see or talk to each other often. Both are my fault. In 2020, after months holed up in my tiny Washington, D.C. apartment, I decided to wait out the winter at my mother’s cottage in Kenya. It was just what the doctor ordered, and a few months later, I decided to move to Nairobi permanently.
My move changed our friendship—it changed all of my friendships, actually. I tried to stay in touch with my friends stateside for a while, but as time went on, FaceTime dates became harder to plan, and fewer voice notes were exchanged via WhatsApp. Now, I don’t know if I can call any of them friends anymore—and my relationship with Simone felt like it was hanging by a thread.
