Anita, we found Gregory.

My heart skipped a beat.

It had been a week since his disappearance.

I blamed myself.

Could I have done more? What if I hadn't pushed him away?

I had a crush on him in high school. A serious one. I wrote our names in my diary. I fantasized. Childhood friends turned lovers. Movie gold.

At the height of my crush, I told my Mom to stop braiding my hair and to make it straight.

When he chose someone else- Junior year- I was crushed. My intuitive Mom cradled me in her arms and gave me the most valuable advice of my life.

"Listen to me, Anita," She spoke to me in Twi, her dark eyes blazing. "Never change yourself for a boy. Never change yourself for anyone. I like Gregory. But you've got to get out of his shadow."

It was difficult, leaving his shadow. In a world in which I was reminded daily of just how much I stood out, he was my safe haven. And he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. His White girlfriend and his Black best friend by his side.

He was clueless. It wasn't his fault. But deep down, I knew my mother was right.

I started avoiding him. At first, he fought back. Had he done something wrong? Did I not like him anymore?

I stood my ground. I wasn't going to be a third wheel.

He got angry. Our years-long friendship clearly mattered so little to me.

I got angry. Why could he not understand where I was coming from? That it wasn't even about him? That I needed to find my own way?

Life goes on. We made new friends. It was uncomfortable whenever we tried to interact. Our breakup had been too abrupt.

:::::::

He messaged me the first month of Freshman year in college, bridging the gulf between us.

It was a bone-chilling message.

I've been hearing voices, Nia. I feel like I'm drowning. I miss you so much. I'm so sorry. For everything.

I called him right away.

What did he mean by he had been hearing voices?

"I can't really explain it. But I'm scared."

I told him he needed to see a doctor.

"I've got it under control."

I panicked. "Greg, you NEED to see a doctor." He assured me he would.

I called his Mom. She assured me she would take care of it.

Three days later, he stopped answering my messages.

:::::::

We sat beneath the hazy rays of the noon sun, waiting for his Dad to bring the car around. He was still wearing his hospital armband around his bandaged wrist: Cooper, Gregory.

In silence, we watched a flock of pigeons eating breadcrumbs nearby, content with the simple meal and each other's presence.

I nudged him – playfully- on the shoulder like we used to do back in elementary school at the playground on a lazy afternoon.

He glanced over at me and smiled.