Sad

In the first days of college, I met her. She was funny. That’s what I most remember. We were in different circles that first year but on the same floor, shared the same hallway and bathroom so we knew each other. We were moving off of campus as grown up sophomores and somehow, she and Natalie joined our group and we were all going to be roommates. I considered it a coup. I liked her.

And I was right. The more I got to know her and she revealed her weaknesses and fears and hopes for the future, I loved her. We were friends. She was so cute and charismatic that there was a steady stream of boys in our apartment. She was kind and sincere. She left me witty notes and she was funny, wickedly funny.

Every Thursday night, she’d tell us something interesting she’d learned in anatomy. Something for our “gee whiz” file, she’d say. When I was in the middle of a bleak bleak time she picked me up and loved me and made me laugh and made me have a good time. (Like I said, there WAS a steady stream of boys because of her.) Our junior year, we shared a room. She hung a huge canvas she’d painted on the wall above her bed. She’d push her snooze button over and over until I had to beg for mercy. One night she and Rachel and I read the entire novel, Love Story out loud to each other and cried together.

That year she had a boyfriend and she often invited me along as the third wheel. I felt uncomfortable at times, not sure I should tag along, but she assured me it was more fun when I was there and they invited me to take a spontaneous trip to San Francisco with them one weekend. We saw all the sights there were to be seen that were free and dodged people acting crazy on the piers and ate clam chowder in bread bowls and laughed a lot.

As we were driving home over the Sierra mountains she taught me every word of Carol of the Bells.

At the semester, she left school and served a mission. I got newsy letters from France. Funny letters that cheered me up and made me laugh and sigh and miss her. I married Adam while she was gone and was happy when she got home. Adam dropped me off at her family’s house and went who knows where and left me to chat with her for hours. I had graduated by then and she was still going to BYU. We saw each other infrequently and she’d still leave funny notes on my apartment door sometimes. When Braeden was born she gave me a baby blanket she’d had her aunt knit for me. I talked to her the night before I moved to Connecticut.

We kept in touch. We wrote a few emails and letters and called each other. With less and less frequency I guess as our lives moved on because suddenly I’d lost touch with her. She didn’t return my calls or emails or letters. I talked to Rachel and she said that she’d been really abrupt and changed somehow the last time she’d talked with her. I talked to Erin and she hadn’t talked to her or heard from her. I was worried. Had something happened?

Years passed and occasionally I’d try to find her. I never had any luck.

Then one day I got a letter from her, my mom had forwarded it to me because it had been sent there. I don’t remember the entire letter but one phrase won’t leave my mind, “I’m not writing to rekindle any friendship.” She had written to say she’d forgiven me. What?! I read on. She outlined things that made no sense. Things that couldn’t have happened. I couldn’t understand. I called Adam at work. I asked him about it, making sure I remembered my life. He said I was right. I called my sisters. If anyone knows my history, they do. Could this have happened? She’s not right—how could she be so mistaken? They didn’t know. They told me that what she said couldn’t be true. I didn’t think so but how could she have thought that, my friend…my smart and funny friend? They didn’t know.

She had left an email address in the letter. I wrote immediately. I tried to explain that I didn’t know what she was talking about. I apologized. I said please let’s be friends. I didn’t hear back from her.

I wrote her a few more times until I got an email back saying that was no longer an active account. I’ve looked her up on the internet. I figured out that she’s married. I’m dying to know what he’s like. How did they meet? Is she happy? And she has a son. I wish I could have made her a baby blanket. I wish I could have talked with her about the startling proposition of motherhood but I can’t.

I want to say, remember building that 7 foot tall Buddha snowman in Kiwana’s Park? Remember when we were taking a pumpkin pie over to some of the boys we knew and Natalie slipped on the ice and she went one way and the pie went the other way? Remember when we went to the Indiana Jones trilogy starting at midnight? We stumbled out into the daylight and went home and slept all day even though we should have been studying for finals? Remember?

I should just let it go. I am not lonely; I have wonderful friends. Friends that are beautiful and charming and funny. Friends that make me happy and are steadfast and forgiving. I should be indignant and forget her because it was all a big misunderstanding and I honestly don’t know what I even did. But I can’t. She’s my friend.