On the bank of a river, one girl asks another, “Are we best friends?” nonchalantly, as if she’s just curious. “Of course!” says the other. “I mean, I assumed so.” They smile and are happy and dangle their feet in the water. They enjoy the breeze sweeping gently over them and wish the sun would not set quite so quickly.
Over the years, their love is tangible. They go to the pet store and buy fish together. They share each other’s gel pens and chapsticks, forgiving each other when they lose them. During the long school days, they sigh and are tired and console each other, sneaking meaningless notes onto each other’s papers. Their love is as predictable and necessary as lunchtime—they always eat at the same bench under the same tree, with a few friends, whoever wants to join, or just themselves.
To be friends is to be a fern growing in the forest or the soil receiving rain.
High school comes, and middle school’s constant insatiable longings lengthen, flatten, pressurize themselves. In both girls there develops the heavy mental weight of one’s own individuality. Kate, who has always been the quieter one, is suddenly doing everything, talking all the time—she tries out debate and excels at it, she gets a solo at every concert, all the teachers love her. (Lucy remembers when she was too shy to step on stage). She invites others over to her house on Friday afternoons, the time when the two of them always hang out. Lucy stands in the corner and paints.
They watch shows together. Lucy squeals over the male leads. They have no drama of their own, but they like to watch everyone else’s, whether on the screen or among the huddles of friends at school. When they want a break from it all they drive to the Chinese restaurant in the next town over and sip soft drinks, groaning over homework. On evenings when they haven’t seen each other, unless one of them is busy, they call and talk about everything until their throats are sore. Kate goes right to sleep afterwards. Lucy can never fall asleep so quickly.
There is a tension between them now as each girl slowly slips toward adulthood… but it’s a tension that holds them together, like the gravitational pull of the Sun and the Earth.
Senior year dawns across the horizon, inevitably, like a newly arrived alien moon, and the days stretch to contain everything allotted to them, and in response months seem to shrink. And when Lucy finds herself alone at lunch for the eleventh time that month she suddenly wonders when something changed and why she didn’t really notice.
And when Kate realizes in the spring that she doesn’t know where Lucy’s going to college, she berates herself for a whole half hour before gathering the courage to text her and ask.
There is no breaking, no great betrayal, only a slow movement away from each other like continents. Neither is lonely. No one was lied to. They go to college in different states and try to remember to text each other memes on the weekends.
Lucy spends her college days drawing and painting. She dyes her hair purple, to everyone’s surprise. She can perfectly imagine Kate’s reaction if she saw— “Hey, where did that come from??”
She isn’t sure what her personal style is at first, but as semesters inch by she realizes that within all her best works lies some kind of unjustified, unexplainable pain. She leans into that, and professors praise her.
College hits Kate hard. For a while she becomes the quiet one again. Far too many hours of freshman year are spent in her bed with only her books and the shadows on the ceiling for company. She doesn’t know where she fits, or what to do with all the noise.
Then the cycle repeats, and her life becomes full again, her voice loud. She sighs away the memory of older days. Her heart is ready for the future.
Even over the summer, they don’t see each other much. The silence has gone on long enough; it would hurt too much. Their friendship is like torn lace that has been set aside, waiting to be mended. It is highly likely it will never be, unless the seamstress, agent of fate, swoops down with her needle in a fit of impulsiveness or compassion. In the meantime, those beautiful patterns lie with jagged edges.
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Hi everyone! Let me know your thoughts on the short story series so far! I appreciate every comment and like :)
You might enjoy the playlist I listened to while working on this story:
😍😍 I love this one so much!!
This is my favorite one of yours! A lot of the lines are so artistic and I love it. My favorite one was: "the days stretch to contain everything allotted to them."
I just like the way it feels.