Around one year ago I left Morgantown, West Virginia. The amount of people in that town I told about my departure was in the single digits, and on the day of the move only one thought was present: “I cannot be seen.” That attitude defined my return from Washington, DC. I flew into town on an eight person plane the day of the event, and left on that same plane early the next morning. No time was left for wandering the streets of my Alma mater, or loitering in the same coffee shops I used to. Similar to my departure, very few knew of my return, only those at the event itself- a bridal shower and going away party for a close friend of mine. It made sense that the theme of said party was “afternoon tea,” as Madeleine was leaving for grad school in England. Looking around the small West Virginian winery, I eyed up the tiny sandwiches and cakes prepared by her parents. Remembering the Friday nights I spent waiting tables at their restaurant and drinking on the stoop. I had never been to this particular venue before, and it was distant from my former life- though the ever-present mountains remained a familiar landmark. While waiting for the event to formally start, I was particularly exhausted from a party in my “new life” from the night before. That and the colonial setting made me feel slightly delirious given that I had the darkest skin at the venue, a common occurrence in West Virginia. Surrounding me were distant family members who treated the event more as a bridal shower and less like a going away party.
Eventually our friends stumbled into the patio, similarly experiencing shades of delirium from the setting and attendees. Coming down from Pittsburgh was not a frequent experience for them, though they had old roots in this decaying state. For those that hadn’t visited me in Washington, it had been over a year since seeing or even speaking to them. When most people think of seeing old friends, they think of a celebratory and joyous moment, a return to the good old times. But our reality was different- too much time had passed. Some of us had changed more than others, and our lives were no longer intertwined as they once were. Awkward tensions arose from unfinished business, and the sea of unfamiliar faces gave a cold edge.
The “bridal shower” portion of the party resolved fairly quickly, and after some light chatting over tea and tiny sandwiches Madeleine’s extended family began spilling out. The venue was left to us “friends of the bridal party,” and swiftly we got to work doing one of the few things there really is to do in West Virginia; drinking and chain-smoking. The heat was particularly nasty that day, and all we really had the energy to do was laze around and reminisce. Thinking back, I can’t really remember more than a handful of details from the conversations we had. We explained the details of our boring new lives, and plans for our future apart. Most fascinating was the jar of teeth a friend in dental school had received from a mentor. Some of the groom’s friends started playing acoustic guitar in the background of our conversations, bringing forth even more distant memories. After a few hours, we had exhausted our conversational material. All that was left was to say our goodbyes, and prepare for my flight the next morning.
That night I stayed at Madeleine’s family home, and was driven there by her younger brother. Driving through the town I once called home was the only part of the trip I can vividly remember. Late at night browsing through past meeting places, school buildings, homes of former lovers. I thought of all the people I would be leaving behind and those I unfairly decided not to tell of my secret return. If they found out I was here, would they hate me even more than I think they do? As we drove through the main street of town, I noted how many business had been shuttered. So many places I thought were important were gone, replaced by “for lease” signs and whatever a cereal bar is. College towns are constantly in a state of change, but I wondered if this abyss of a town was freshly decaying or had always been that way. The next morning, I said goodbye to Madeleine’s mother and flew back home.
