and needy. This side of her asks the same question twenty times too fast to comprehend
and is irrelevant anyway. I am her loyal sidekick; blazed to infinity, a mellow to her manic.
I forget these times.
I have come to idolize Shannon. The stories she tells. Once she told the lead singer
of my all time favorite band, to take the cigarette he asked for and shove it. I gasped as she
told the story. The places she takes me. Once, as we stood out back at a show, I bulged out
my eyes and stuck out my tongue as I passed the smoke to the tall, lanky dreadlocked man
beside me: Rob Zombie. I kind of love her a little bit.
Shannon most impressed me the other night. Honestly. Girls’ night becomes more
understandable as I get older. What used to seem extravagant if not boring now seems
well deserved if not a necessity. As we sat around the chabudai; low and dark in the wainscoted room, we giggled to infinity. Slurping down drinks filled with mango and rum we
chat, getting out the gossip, the sex talk, the debauchery. We order: salmon, tuna, and a
Philadelphia roll. We all like cream cheese. After a couple rounds and more sashimi than
we care to admit, the real stuff comes out. Cristina is sad. Her depression creeps into her
like an old friend who can’t get their shit together. Her mom died last April. Shannon’s
died five years ago. Cristina finally opens up. Tells us the words whispered by every other
depressed mind that just can’t seem to figure it all out:
“I just feel sad. All the time.”
We get it. We all get it. I am reminded that even though I talk too much, I have
nothing to say when it counts. Shannon on the other hand, the princess of foul-mouth and
forget-you’s, is there when it matters. She can switch from bedroom physiology to psychology and knows what she’s talking about. She talks about her own mothers’ death. She
talks about the funeral, the shame, and blowing six figures of inheritance. But mostly she
talks about being strong for others. She talks about being there. She talks about moving
home so she could get some help. She talks about supporting her family.
And lately, this seems to help. I don’t need to be nice. I need to be strong.
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