(Two brand new entries courtesy of MIA guilt)
Lesson Four: Mind Reading 101 or “That cheating b*tch!”
I’m busy, but yet the universe conspires against me by having Red call me at yet another odd hour asking me if I’m free. No, dude- I’m not, but I love you too much to say so. She asks only if it’s a long call and she needs someone to talk her out of a problem.
“How’d you know?”
“I’m your best friend, I know everything. Say it…” I prompt.
“Grace knows everything,” she recites in a monotone.
“That’s right. And don’t you forget it.”
“It’s her boyfriend, isn’t it?”
“How’d you-? Never mind.”
“Did you do something wrong?”
“I might’ve yelled a bit.”
“There you go. Have you apologized?”
“Hey! I didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
“That doesn’t matter. She’s not going to stop being a pain until you make amends. If you yelled at me, I would’ve taken a gun to your stupid head.”
“Fine.” See? Red is so well-trained.
Hmm, this won’t really solve the issue. “This won’t really solve the issue.” I tell her.
The Issue: Boyfriend-slash-almost-fiancee is a jealous pr*ck who thinks with his you-know-what and can’t keep his girlfriend happy. Red gets pissed off that her housemate-slash-best-friend is in such a rotten, unhappy relationship. Aforementioned boyfriend makes life difficult for girlfriend by painting Red (pun unintended) in a bad light.
“I want to kill him.” I forgot who said this, but it doesn’t matter because we both agree wholeheartedly.
“Have you tried playing nice with him?” Red swears. Okay, that’s a big NO on the playing nice. Ever.
We discuss various pranks that I’ve always wanted to try but never had a enemy to try them on. It’s all talk, but it seems to make us both feel marginally better. Red sounds less tense and I hear the sweet sound of laughter. My job is done.
“You feel better now?”
“I guess.”
“She’s your best friend. You can’t stay mad at her forever. Besides you’re angry at the situation. Not at her. She doesn’t deserve all this crap you’re piling on her.”
“I know.”
“I gotta go.”
Red grumbles good naturedly about how I never call or write and its all a one-sided relationship with us. Too bad. I’m not the best correspondent in the world. My theory is just cause I don’t write don’t mean I love ‘em any less. And I don’t do phones very well. Everyone knows this.
“Okay, take care. Go do something stupid.”
“Bye, bud. I will.”
My left ear is burning from keeping the phone cradled against it for too long. I sleep well, knowing Red is safe and happy that night.
-----------------------------------
My best friend has another best friend. Why does it feel sometimes like she’s cheating on me? On the other hand, I’m so incredibly glad she has someone else to be there for her since I cannot be. Staying in a foreign, non-English speaking land can be scary and depressing and I’m just relieved that Red is taken care of well by her other best friend.
Y’know, we try to be all supportive and “Oh, and how is she?” but it all ends up making me sound like a jealous girlfriend. Or how I feel a sense of guilty glee when Red calls me up to tell about how she and housemate-slash-best-friend are going through some trouble. I totally understand th’ frustration and the near-constant problems- when you live in close quarters like that in a foreign country, you’re bound to chaff and start resenting each other. So I advise as only I can- “Look out for number one, bud. You’re the most important thing ever.” or “Go get yourself a boyfriend, for goodness’ sakes!” plus the all-important “So, still a virgin?”; “You smoke now?” and “Jumped off a bridge yet?” Just checking, y’know.
At the end of the day, I feel slightly sorry for Red’s housemate-slash-best-friend. She doesn’t have someone else to lean on and complain to. No one to tell her to hang on and don’t die. (I’d offer, but there’d be conflict of interest and all.) Red is all she has and I make sure that th’ lil dumbass sticks by her like glue. My best friend is blur and requires a slap upside the head sometimes to play nice and be good.
I miss her. Can’t wait til’ she comes back for a visit.
======================================
Lesson Five: I Got More Than One Best Friend? or “Whoa! Look up at that sky!” or “F*ck you lar!”
I could feel the salt in the air, making me stickier than I already was. I love the sea, but I’m really a city girl at heart. Its totally dark out here and I can’t see where the ocean stopped and the sky began. The night sky is covered with bright stars in constellations I can’t ever see in the city, what with all th’ danged light pollution. Even though half the sky was cloaked in heavy grey clouds, whatever little bit of it that we could see was liberally scattered with stars. It’s like grey fleece on diamond-encrusted black velvet. Can’t help it, night skies haul out th’ poet in me.
“There’s Orion’s Belt,” I point out.
She tilts her head back and gives an impressed ‘oo’ at the sky, “Cool.”
“And that there below it,” I gesture intellectually, “That’s Orion’s Boxer Shorts.”
It takes very little to make Ange laugh. Old jokes, new jokes, lame ones, insulting ones… it’s all fair game. We talk some more about inconsequential things, topics we’ll forget in th’ morning, yet with good feelings that’ll stick around for life.
“Oo, look at that sky!” Light winds whipping around us had pushed away the clouds, revealing more of the sky.
I ‘oo’ in appreciation as well. Both our heads are tilted back at a dangerous angle that would threaten to choke us with our own spittle if we were prone to salivating heavily.
The log we were sitting on has to be th’ most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of introducing to my backside- and my mom used to whack the living heck out of it. “My ass hurts.” I have th’ most brilliant contributions to the conversation sometimes.
We look around and spot two white deckchairs just behind us. I refrain from swearing, “We so stupid.” I proclaim. Very little to make her laugh, really.
We giggle as we drag the chairs to where we were sitting and throw ourselves on it with abandon. Okay, so we dusted it off for sand and gingerly lowered ourselves onto the rickety retractable plastic recliners. As soon as we’re comfortably staring out at the sea and sky, Ange declares once again about how great the sky looks. We discuss the pros and cons of mountain houses versus beach houses. I opt for mountain, since I’m a much more jeans/jacket kinda girl. Besides, if I need a beach house I’ll just bum out at everybody else’s since you all prefer the sea to the hills.
“Whoa, lookit that sky!” She says for th’ Nth time.
“If you’re going to say that all the time, I’m not staying at your beach house next time.”
She chuckles and we lapse back into inconsequential chatter.
Four minutes later, “Wow! Look up at the sky!”
“Yes, Angeline. The sky. It’s up there. Oo.”
She laughs and I roll my eyes. It’s going to be a long night.
It was a beautiful sky, really.
Isn’t it funny how you’re always the same person with everyone, yet you evoke different reactions in different people?
Typical conversation between me and Ange.
Me: You look nice today. Hair?
Ange: Yeah, I'm thinking of getting it cut/permed/shaved (whatever suits her fancy at the moment)
Me and Partner-In-Crime ASSilem.
Me : You look nice today. Hair?
PIC : F*ck you lar!
My personal favorite- this must’ve happened a dozen times, at least.
“Hey! Take a pic with your 5 megapixel Grand Vision camera.”
“SIX megapixels!”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
Pause.
“So?”
She looks up sheepishly “Wait, it’s charging.”
“Never mind. Mich, take a pic with your good Canon camera.”
“F*ck you lar!”
I love how I can say just one word or make a weird face and she gets so riled up about it to the point of swearing loudly at me and embarrassing herself in public while I look like the picture of a delicately affronted angel.
--------------------------------------------
Dude- I have more than one best friend. When did that happen? Oh, right- ‘bout th’ time my best friend got herself another best friend.
I don’t call many people ‘friends’ easily. I believe it’s more than a word to politely categorize acquaintances who actually know your name. Does this particular guy in Friendster with 2000 friends actually know them all? I find it an insult to people like me who carefully choose friends to spend time with. Every single one of you- I make an effort to remember that you’re allergic to soy yet okay with tau foo fa, or that you wanna be a director, or that you’re really trying hard to finish War And Peace. I know what makes you laugh and what to say to cheer you up. We would always have an inside joke or quip that no one else understands. There’s only a preciously small amount of silent moments in a day and I try to spend it on you. Thanks for being my friend.
It’s all worth it.
No comments:
Post a Comment