I NEVER LIKED RON

I never liked Ron. Not really. There was just something about our personalities that clashed. When I was ten, he was in my Boy Scout den. His dad was the den leader. I even spent the night at Ron’s house once. We got along okay, I guess, but it couldn’t be called much of a friendship.
In sixth grade we got into something in homeroom. I can’t remember what, but it ended with him easily shoving me down. I hit the floor. Rage built up inside of me. He was smaller than me, but stronger. Always in better shape. More athletic. When I hit the classroom tile, I looked up to his smirking face, then to the teacher. One would expect Ron to get into trouble, but the teacher just looked at me, barely containing his laughter. I decided instead of fighting back, getting my ass kicked, and maybe suspended, I’d just fake laugh, too. Just laugh it off, get up, and act like nothing had happened.
There was something about Ron. He wasn’t the most popular kid in school, but there was a confidence about him. He didn’t get the best grades, but his were better than mine. He wasn’t the most athletic, but he was much, much more athletic than me. I don’t know if things really came easier to him, or if he just tried harder. Maybe a little of both.
Still, he was mostly a peripheral person in my life. We had mutual friends, but it’s not like we had to hang out much. Maybe he wanted to be my friend, I sometimes thought. Maybe I just wasn’t receptive out of some strange jealousy that only existed in my mind. I was never really mean to him, but I was never particularly nice, either.
It got much worse when I started dating my first "real" girlfriend in high school, Lynn. He and Lynn were friends. They had been since they were little kids. It was a real, long-term friendship. But Lynn had wanted more. Ron wasn’t receptive. She dated other guys. He dated other girls. Then Lynn started dating me. And they were still friends.
As usual in my life at that time, stupid, ugly, pointless jealousy reared it’s ugly head. Logically, I think I knew nothing would happen between the two of them. But I’ve always had this problem with making up drama. Maybe my life’s too boring for me. I don’t know. Still, I had the idea that if he’d decide that he had feelings for Lynn, she’d drop me in a heartbeat. I felt like the runner-up. She couldn’t have Ron, so she settled for me. Of course, there were other girls I was more attracted to, but I knew me. I knew exactly how I felt and thought and what I would and wouldn’t do. I could never be sure about anyone else at that time. Things were black and white; right and wrong. It took me years to figure out how unrealistic that kind of thinking is.
Was any of this pseudo-love triangle true? No, probably not. It felt like it then, though. Whenever they’d hang out or just talk in class or the hallway, I’d get jealous. It was stupid. I wanted her to make a choice. Him or me. But it really wasn’t a choice. He wasn’t available to her. Or was it that she’d chosen me? It was the first time I’d ever told someone I wasn’t related to that I loved them. It scared me. My parents had gotten divorced a couple of years earlier. There was extramarital stuff involved. It really tweaked my already present trust issues. I just didn’t trust her feelings for me. No matter what she said, I didn’t trust it. All of this, I know now, had nothing to do with her or Ron.
I was a definite wedge in their friendship. To her credit, she wouldn’t totally let my bullshit ruin it, though. But I know she resented me. Who can blame her? It was unfair. She was right. It’s one of those things I’ll always wish I could take back. Do differently.
This, of course, made me dislike Ron even more. I thought he was better looking than me. Smarter than me. In better shape than me. This ridiculous competition in my head just got worse. I’d say stupid things to both of them. It felt justified, but, really, I was just an immature kid. An ass. Still am, sometimes.
We went off to college. Lynn and I broke up eventually. Not because of Ron, but because of, at least in part, those type of asinine complications that I created in my head. Complications I’d then create in real life. There was always a Ron, I guess.
Years later, out of college, I heard that Ron had died. This guy who was in great shape, going for an engineering degree, poised to have a good, productive life, just keeled over one day on a basketball court. Turned out he had a heart defect that no one knew about. He just, at 25, dropped dead.
I’d not thought of him for a while. The news didn’t make me particularly sad. Is that horrible? I mean, I felt bad for him and his family in the vague way that people always feel when someone dies. And it freaked me out a little, sure. Freaked my mom out, too. He was so young. A contemporary. A former classmate of mine. My age. She wanted me to go to the doctor, get my heart checked, just in case. But I didn’t have insurance. Still don’t. But just because Ron had a heart problem, doesn’t mean I do.
Since this, I’ve talked to Lynn some, too, actually. I knew that she and Ron were still friends when he died. Mainly through email. That’s how Lynn and I communicated, too. I thought maybe I should offer her my condolences, but I never brought it up. And neither did she.