Her

When I was a little girl I had a best friend.  I mean she was my BFF.  We hung out every single day of our young lives.  We did everything together.  Then when I was twelve I moved away.  Well, I tried finding her a few months ago via the great god of google. 

According to some random paper I found: I think she’s dead.

I remember Her father’s phone number by heart.  So I called him a couple times but didn’t leave a message.  I called from the Land Line and he called back and my father answered, I wasn’t home.  “Someone called from this number?”  Her father asked.

“Oh it was probably my daughter, Nina.  Who is this?” my father asked.  We’ll call him Tom.

“This is Tom do you remember me?” he asked.  They lived across the street from us at our old house. 

“Oh yes how are you Tom, maybe she wanted to talk to you about Her,” my dad said.  Tom didn’t say She was dead.

“Just tell Nina I called,” Tom said. 

See the thing is, Her mother died of alcoholism when I was twelve.  The thing is, She asked me one time when I was like eighteen  if she could stay with me because Her father remarried a woman who was making Her life miserable. 

Coincidentally there happened to be “crazy drama” going on in my household at the time that she asked and there was no way my parents were going to allow Her to crash with us.  So I told Her no.

Then she said the words to me I will never forget: “I guess this is how you know who your true friends are.” 

I never saw Her again.

I invited Her to my graduation party and Her father, Tom, and his wife came, her brother even came, but they said she had a stomach ache.  I was too busy at the party to think too much about it and maybe start crying or whatever.

Years later I decided to dedicate my novel to Her and I imagined I would send Her a copy and we would be friends again.

I found Her name on the people search engine, and it’s her correct first name, last name and her correct age living in Michigan.  But the Paper says Tom’s daughter died.  I never called Tom back. 

I don’t know if she is dead. 

Am I a weak person for not trying to find out?  All I have to do is make a phone call.  I remember, I remember everything that we did together.  We started a band with tennis rackets as our instruments.  We played monopoly for days at time without cheating or quitting.  We watched The Facts of Life.  We danced for hours to Madonna tunes.

I was there when she opened her mother’s diary and found out that her father was having an affair.  Her mother blamed Tom for ruining her life, making her run to the bottle.

I was there the night Her mother passed away.

I can’t, I just can’t know. 

Ignorance is bliss right?

Wrong.

I’m gonna call Tom.  I’ll get back to you when I get the courage to make the phone call.

If she is dead, how did she die?  I assume she got involved with the wrong people and maybe drugs.  Or maybe she contracted AIDS.  How does someone so young die?  Drunk Driving perhaps?

Could I have saved her?

nina