She taught me that which I have no word for

In school, I had a friend who was, as they said, an 'outlier'...different, weird, not like most of us. She piqued my curiosity instantly and, with much effort, I crossed the line of 'normalcy' to get close to her. Old friends started distancing themselves from me; I was no longer the dependable, sheer fun person. At whatever point in life we stand, we look at the years gone by as those of naivety, impulsiveness. Similarly, I can say today that at that point of time, somehow I didn't care much about this gradual but obvious alienation.

I'm not as brave today.

Any way, we never became close friends in the conventional sense of the term. The most I can say is that I became the only person in school she wouldn't frown at all the time. For me, she became the only one, outside of my family, I felt most protective about- I've still not been able to find any other way of putting my feelings towards her. I still think she did much more for me than I ever could for her. While it was second nature to me to express my feelings exactly, she had to make herculean efforts, I clearly knew, to show me that she cared. So, for instance, in the two years of my knowing her, I never lost a single piece of stationery (something I was almost habitual at doing) - I misplaced stuff almost every week but she had mysterious, almost magical, ways of recovering them for me. A guardian angel sort of thing, to put it tritely. Coming to think of it now, she was more natural than I at the business of caring about someone.

I noticed these things much later. At that time, I was too busy feeling almost smug about being the one she considered herself close to, like I'd achieved something or someone unconquerable, impenetrable. When I think of it now, I never really knew much about her. Her family was disturbed in many ways, that much I know. Even to get that out of her was a mini feat. I remember she was very particular about maintaining a record of each and every rupee she ever lent anyone...and recovering it; used to write it down on the last page of our school diary. She never wrote down what I owed her, monetarily at least. As a reflex action, it kept adding up in my mind what I needed to return to her wallet. Thirteen rupees - I'll never forget that. 

One Saturday afternoon, I'd just come back from school and got a phone call from a classmate. She was no more. They said she took an overdose of the sleeping pills her mother used to keep in the cabinet. I'd just met her in school and said a 'see you on Monday!' to her. 

To start with, I felt betrayed. Then contemplation, confusion. Pain of loss. Eventually, vacuum. I didn't cry. I still haven't. The shock must've been too great because I know it's not that I didn't care. She raised that pang in me that I don't know will ever subside. Those 13 rupees she left with me tell me we were close, still are. That's the money I'd give anything to return...and give anything to hold on closely to, at the same time. 

Two years...we didn't hold hands or hug even once.