Tell me Something Good

December 14, 2004 | Category: In My Life

[begin rant]

My best friend growing up was an amazing Mary-Tyler-Moore scrap of a girl named Sue. You met her and 10 minutes later you were laughing your guts out as you shared a soda.

When a guy named John held my hand at a party the autumn of my sophmore year of high school - she was the first person I wanted to call and tell.

When I got my heart broke in college, she was the one I cried to.

In my 20's, when my ex-partner gutted my life with a revelation 6 months after we'd bought a home together, she hopped a plane and met me where I'd run to - my grandmother's condo in Florida.

Late that night, we snurched my grandmother's yacht of Lincoln and made for the cigarette smoke and Rum & Cokes of the local scene. I had valiantly decided not to deal with my life for the night and she had decided to be supportive of that decision.

We wore short skirts and lipstick and as we left one pub to look for the next, a pair of cute guys made their move.

Out in the parking lot, we let them flirt. We let them lean. Kept watch on each other from the corners of our eyes as we had our hands held, our beauty exhorted. B-52's thudding from the radio of our getaway boat.

We managed to make it back to the condo complex with our modesties still relatively intact (phone numbers stashed in our purses). My lips tingled; her cheeks were pink. We slipped into lounge chairs by the pool and chatted as I went through half a pack of Marlboro Lights. We slipped into that silence that falls after you've laughed too much.

After CD left this morning, his duffel packed for another business trip, I was hit by a wave of homesickness for Sue so strong that I got nauseated. When did we stop being the kind of friends that would hop a plane for each other?

When did I become this woman, who ponies up each day? Who lives in the very stoicism that I rejected as a child? When did I stop calling on my friends, when did they stop calling on me?

Dammit. I want to hop a plane to somewhere warm. I want to fluff my hair and dance to Chaka Khan and drink frothy things with umbrellas in them with a girlfriend and giggle. I want to forget my dress size, my age, and my position.

Life is grey and life is hard and I'm lonely. And every small step towards a better future with CD is still anchored in today.

Today. Today when no one looked me in the eye. Today when no one dragged a thumb down my cheek, hoping to get lucky with my lips. Today when no one splashed me with water from a pool and dared me to see how many miochardial infarctions we could cause by skinny dipping in the pool at the middle of a retirement village.

I was looking at pictures of that trip today. My grandmother, who never understood Sue's vegetarianism ("Not even chicken?") and loved Sue's grace ("What elegant handwriting! What excellent manners!") - my grandmother is gone now. And Sue? She's the one happily living in Florida.

But the years took her even farther from me.

I miss Sue.

I miss Chaka Khan. I miss Rum & Coke and giggling in the dark. I miss knowing I can say anything. I miss the kindness. I miss the eyes wise with all the shared memories of childhood and womanhood.

And I miss the adventures. I miss leaning. The pounding of my heart. I want to be kissed, but good. With a hand tangled in my hair and my toes curled.

I don't mind getting older. And I love all the things responsibility has brought to my life. And I believe in the things that we are slowly building.

But.

But.

But.

[/end rant]

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