We grew up hating each other, well I hated her. I never knew exactly why, just that she was now best friends with the person who had been my first “best friend.”
Diane and I had met living on the same block; she was two years older than I and taller than everyone her own age. She was awkward and lacked self-confidence, the oldest of four, her brilliance was over-looked and she was generally neglected. Her parents were in what seemed to be a loveless marriage held together by the commitment of God and fear of public and religious ridicule. These weren’t exactly the conditions under which a healthy family would be made to thrive.
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I was the oldest of three, in a single parent home where abuse was all too frequent no matter the time or location. My personal living conditions led me to identify with her feeling and inadequacies. But she had lived in a house. Her family didn’t move around every year like ours, the one thing she had was a constant of stability, however screwed up. Her family did finally move, it wasn’t far, ten or fifteen minutes in a car, but my mother never drove and I was too young to travel any further than school.
Years had passed, and while we stayed in sporadic contact, we drifted apart as people do. Diane had ended up with a man who only loved her when they were high. What a tragic set of circumstances to bear four children in. Diane was beyond brilliant, a person who could surely win on jeopardy any given day and figure out just about anything in almost any subject. All of that went down the drain when she had four small children and the only support she received from her family was beer and cigarettes.
Every couple of years I would check in on her, only to find that her situation had never changed more than having another baby she didn’t want. For someone who didn’t want children, she loved those kids; she just never had the tools to be a good mother. Diane had a diet of coffee, beer and cigarettes, for years. One day she began puking blood; 43 days later she died of septicemia
Lori was the forgiving type, she could forgive anything. Lori was pregnant, unemployed and at the hospital every day until the last. I had 2 children at home, a full time job, and was pregnant as well. I spent as much time as I could with her. We were together on the day Diane was taken off life support; I called Lori a few weeks later to see how she was doing. We had become inseparable after that, both having sons four months apart, we shared trips to the zoo, play dates and mommy drinking dates.
I bought her a mothers ring because no one else would have. I took her to see her favorite country artist for her birthday because I knew she wouldn’t do it for herself. She wasn’t generous the way I am, but she was always there. Then the minute my attention turned to another long lost friend on my birthday, a friend who had almost died in a car accident and was currently paralyzed, she changed. Cat was the one person who was there to help me move in the middle of the night when I left my abusive ex, and she had shown up to my birthday surprise. I was overthrown with emotion.
Lori had shown the first signs of jealousy by demanding my attention, and ultimately leaving my party. A Happy F-in Birthday text the day of my birthday sealed the deal; I was done. A few weeks later she had apologized, and said things that brought me to tears, things like “you make me a better person” and “you are the only one who gets me.”