“You like to be social,” Papa uses his hands for emphasis. They bounce and sway and distract me from his words. “You’re making a lot of friends up there at school, but I guarantee that 10 years from now, there won’t be but one or two at the most that you’re still close with.”
His meaning slowly sinks in. By the time I realize what he was saying, the conversation shifted to the overall message and back to my AP US history grade.
I won’t have my friends. These girls won’t be beside me for college or my wedding. They might not even make it long after graduation. I try to picture what my future will be like without the friends I cling to now. I consider college with no late night chats or good morning phone calls or even one lousy text. I try to imagine my wedding without Holly to help me pick out a puffy white dress or Kaylee to be my bridesmaid. I try to visualize myself having kids and them not knowing Chelsea and the wonder she is.
That fantasy is boring. Without my girls, who will I have to look back and laugh with? Who will be there to understand why I’m crying over a random picture or turning red just looking at a bald man?
I’m already having trouble holding on to everyone I need. Walking through the school hallways, I see all the faces of my past. There’s my best friend from seventh grade. I helped her practice for cheerleading tryouts until she finally made it. Then she started hanging out with the more popular girls. There’s the girl I met last year in band. We talked about boys and Doctor Who. Now we don’t talk at all. That’s my best friend from eighth and ninth grade. We cried every time we thought about losing each other. I told her my whole life story at the fair one year when I was high on a sugar rush. And last, but not least, there’s the girl I’ve lost most recently. The girl I was closest to for five years straight. The girl who brought me back into the world when I had lost my strength and the one who always listened to me cry. The girl I defended every day and the girl I was always the most afraid of losing. I watch her pass me in the hall and count how many times she barely looks my way.
I still wear the friendship bracelet she made me and I still have every letter, including the notes passed in class. Anything she ever gave me, you could find in a thin, converse box slipped neatly into the back of my drawer. It’s all there, inside of a pink and blue bag with a small, yellow stuffed monkey attached to the side that she bought me on her trip to the Hard Rock Café in Atlanta. All the notebooks we wrote with all the important texts written on the inside covers in sharp pink pen. And it’s all tucked tightly into that one drawer. Stuffed full and overflowing just like the memories in my head.
A few years ago, I could have never seen myself without her. I couldn’t imagine sitting in class without writing her a letter or sketching that picture of our hands making the shape of a heart. It hurts now, when I think about it, but I guess I know I’ll be okay. I’ve managed so far. Despite the tears on my pillow and the hurtful texts I just can’t bring myself to erase, I’m still okay.
Maybe it won’t feel so bad 10 years from now. Maybe it won’t matter as much and maybe I’ll just be okay. If I lose the friends I have right now, I know I will have lost too much. But maybe by then, I’ll be ready to move on. And maybe we can stay in touch and beat all the odds, but if not, maybe I’ll just never forget them or all the memories and good times. I’ll live and learn, and love them while I have them so that I’ll never really lose them.
