LJ Idol Week 2: That One Friend

[flipflop_diva]

She was the one who hired me.

That was where it started. On a warm July day in a small town in California. She had long blonde hair and bruises on her arms. “I play hockey,” she told me.

She took me to lunch and introduced me to everyone else in the newsroom. I smiled and tried to sound like I knew what I was doing. I went home with butterflies in my stomach.

The phone rang later that evening. She offered me a job.

I was the newest copy editor at the Salinas Californian.

•••

She was my boss.

She gave me my assignments and coached me through the things I hadn’t yet learned. She answered questions and gave me advice.

We sat side-by-side for months on end, on weekends and holidays and nights.

She was smart and funny and good at what she did.

I wanted to be good, too.

I watched her, tried to copy her, listened to what she said.

I got better. I got a raise. I got a promotion.

More than that, I got a friend.

•••

She was my best friend.

She was also my first friend there. She invited me out for beers one night. I went, more nervous than I’d been when I interviewed.

I had fun. I fit in.

Something shifted. A friendship started.

We ate dinner together. Watched Survivor together. I learned to play hockey. We talked about everything, shared everything.
My mother died. She came to the funeral.

Her sister got married. I went to the bachelorette party.

We were always together. At work. After work. On days off.

It’d been a while since I had a friend like her.

It felt nice.

It felt right.

•••

She was the one I missed the most.

Seven years after I arrived, I packed my bags and moved away. A new job, a new start, a new life.

We kept in touch. Facebook and email and texts.

She got engaged. A month before I left. She kept me updated on her plans. She asked me to be her bridesmaid.

I bought a dress, I bought shoes, I bought a plane ticket to her wedding shower to surprise her. She screamed and hugged me and didn’t let me out of her sight the whole weekend.

I bought another plane ticket for the bachelorette party. And then another for the wedding. I stood by her side, watched her get married, gave them a toast.

She sent me pictures after. Told me about the honeymoon.

We emailed and texted.

A lot at first. Then a little less. Then even less. Then barely any.

Time goes on. It happens.

She and her husband moved to New York. I saw them every year when I went there for work.

A year ago, she couldn’t make it.

It was the first year I hadn’t seen her since I moved.

•••

She was the one I thought for sure would be there.

I emailed a link to the website I made. I mailed the Save the Date. Later, I mailed the invitation.

A reply never came. An RSVP never came. Nothing ever came.

She never came.

A month after the wedding, she told a mutual friend she hadn’t been invited. I know that wasn’t true. Emails and invitations spoke differently.

There still was never a message, never a comment.

It stung.

It still does.

I think of making the first move, of asking why. But I don’t.

Maybe I don’t want to know.

•••

She’s a memory now.

A reminder of how things can change.

At one time, she was everything to me. A boss, a friend, a confidant.

But there are new friends now, new confidants, a new boss.

Sometimes, still, I check my emails, stare at the inbox, think maybe a message will appear.

It doesn’t.

It most likely never will.

But I’ll probably never stop checking.


Written for therealljidol Week 2. To read the other entries and/or cast a vote, check them out over here.