Tuesday, January 24, 2012
There’s Nothing Like A BFF—Part One.
I wrote this before I left for my trip to Texas, but couldn't post because I wasn't about to ruin my surprise...
I met her almost 15 years ago and couldn’t stand her. She was hoity-toity, one of those rich girls whose parents seemed to cater to her every whim. Truth be told, I was jealous of this quality—having to work from the moment I turned 14. I was outgoing; she was more censored. I was loud; she was reserve. She had the silver spoon; I had the paper cup. Complete opposites at first glance.
When I discovered we’d both be working in the same department, in the same locked vault, I wanted to come unglued. I’d have to spend all my time with this anti-social, has everything, pain? The first few weeks opening Dave and Buster's were miserable. She couldn’t stand me any more than I could stand her. We ignored each other—only talking when absolutely necessary. We’d steal glances at one another—judging the other’s outfit in silence. Basically throwing out every bit of body language necessary to reveal our contempt of the other.
And then one day she needed some help balancing the monies she was counting. She was cursing like a sailor, when I realized, “Hey I could like this girl.” Perhaps the string of profanities is what drew me to her—perhaps just how real she was. From that moment forward we became inseparable. During the day, we’d find ourselves playing “guess that song” over the phone’s speaker through the talent of whistling—usually ended up laughing in hysterics on the floor. Don’t ask how I’m able to make every song sound exactly the same—one of my many talents. At night when we were bored we would go zen—a game we created where we’d simply hop into the car, blast 80s music as loud as possible, and drive with no set destination. We would end up in the craziest places, which was part of the fun. Every other weekend would be spent dancing our booties off or shooting pool or pigging out on fast food or DJing the karaoke nights at D & B. Good times.
There were nights when we’d decide at 3 am to start a new diet--always with excitement and ideas of the "new us". I remember going to Walmart to buy scales, SlimFast, and measuring tapes—only to change our minds as the sun came up and dying for a Starbucks. There were many of times she tried teaching me how to make the most delicious chicken and rice dish—just never tasted the same when I made it instead of her. There were days we spent watching the entire Sex and the City series in our PJs—would have never become addicted if not for her. And the shoe shopping sprees we went on. No one has the shoe collection that this girl has.
As the years went by, she was there for every high moment, and every low moment too. There were days when I wondered what I’d do without her and days when I wanted to strangle her. Times we laughed until we cried, and times when the tears couldn’t stop flowing and tissues littered the floor around us. We were inseparable. When I learned she was moving to Texas, my heart sunk to the floor. I was thrilled that she had found the man of her dreams, and heartbroken to see my best friend leaving me. That was a rough day--for both of us.
I knew that the miles between us wouldn’t define our friendship. They couldn't. She meant too much to me. It became work to keep in touch. At first we were really bad at it, going months at a time without chatting...but eventually we have found our own long distance groove. During one phone call when she told me she might not be able to have children, my heart broke for her—I even offered my womb up for her. Although being five years older than she and the cobwebs were starting to form…it didn't matter. I'd do anything for this girl. Eight months ago when she told me she was pregnant, my heart filled with love and joy and longing. I wanted so badly to be there for her. To touch that growing belly and get grossed out if she puked for no other reason than for being knocked up. I wanted to shop until we dropped for little Olivia and give her all the advice I could. I wanted to share in the joys, and warn her of the heartache. But the miles did get between us and I’ve been unable to do so.
I’ve been buying baby stuff for baby Olive as though it’s going out of style. I can't help myself. Knowing all she’s done for my kids and me over the years has made me want to do so much for her little bundle. For the last two months I’ve been prying to find out when her baby shower will be. The in-laws are throwing it for her (how sweet are they!) and I wanted to be there to help celebrate the new life she and her husband are bringing into the world. With only 1 ½ week’s notice, I was informed of the shower. At first I panicked just a bit—wondering how the heck would I pull this off? Not much time to plan a trip or to talk my sister into doing the 12 hour drive with me. It’s been 3 years since I’ve seen her and I really miss my best friend. And while our lives have taken different paths, I know that she’s always there—always on my side to listen, to give me advice, to shoot me a bit of critical honesty when needed.
My husband took one look at my face, knew exactly what I should do, and encouraged me to take a couple of days off of work, book a hotel, and get my butt to Texas. Luckily, my sister decided to do the drive with me. I decided my best friend needs a bit of a surprise and it’s been SO hard not to tell her I’m on my way. When I told her I couldn’t make it, I feigned the sadness and the misty eyes. She sounded sad on the phone--the fake voice of happiness, but she wasn't fooling me. When I told her the gifts were in the mail, I was completely lying to her. When I told her I planned on coming out this summer so I could see the baby, I didn’t mention how in three days I’ll be rubbing that belly and talking to Olivia.
This Saturday at one in the morning, my sister, niece, and I will be making the 12-hour trek out to Texas—driving straight on through to the Dallas/Ft. Worth area to attend my best friend’s baby shower and surprise the heck out of her! I can’t wait to walk into her baby shower and see the shock on her face! Until then, I’ll keep walking around Denver with this grin on my face, just waiting impatiently for this weekend to arrive.
Here’s to you
My friend, my pal
My girl, my gal
(A poem written to me from Christine many years
ago--it always makes us laugh!)
P.S. I’M SO EXCITED!