~Micky~

I may have said this before, but Andrea did make a new friend when I was with Carina.  Back then, I thought it was a good thing.

Later I wasn’t so sure. 

The girl who “befriended” Andrea was shallow and obsessed with herself.  There aren’t many people I really hate.  She was one.  But, more than I hated her, I hated that Andrea liked her.

Andrea was always the type of person who naively looks for the best in people.  Mention someone’s faults and she’ll give you a blank look, followed by a demand to “be nice.”  Andrea could forgive so easily…there was this purity to her.  Innocence. 

But at the same time, I couldn’t look into her eyes and believe that she was that simple. 

In so many ways, she was easy to understand.  In others, she didn’t even understand herself. 

Stephanie was an okay looking girl.  She had the kind of personality that contradicted Andrea’s completely.  Loud, sometimes obnoxious, self-righteous…

I asked Andrea once how she could be friends with her.  She smiled and shrugged.  She didn’t even look up from the poster she was working on. 

“She uses you.”

“You are so cynical.”  She capped her marker.  Lifted another and uncapped it.  “…People using me...it’s not a big deal.”  She outlined the words “Moral Thermometer: Canterbury Tales Character Analysis” in red.

“She dumps all her ditzy problems on you.  You should be paid the wage of a freaking therapist for dealing with her.”  She glanced up at me quickly.  Her lips pressed together.  Her eyes flickered a bit, betraying her amusement.

“Why are you so concerned about it?  There, I’m done.”  She held up the poster.  “What do you think?”

“Nice.  A-plus like always.  Because she’s a b-” She shot me a warning look.  “….a bad influence on you.” 

“Pff…and you aren’t.” 

“Andrea.”  She nudged me with her elbow.

“Chill out.  I know who my friends are and who they aren’t.”  She rested her chin on her hand and looked out the window.  I felt bad for ruining her mood.

“So…which list am I on?”  I asked.  She moved only her eyes to look at me and smirked.  “Best friend, right?” 

************************************************** 

~Andrea~

“So…which list am I on?  Best friend, right?”  I rolled my eyes but if I had denied it, I would have been lying. 

Micky was the closest friend I’d had since the first grade, maybe longer.  There was a comfort level between us that was beyond what I felt with other people.  If I wanted to say something, even if it might sound random or stupid, it would just slip out when I was with him.  Usually when I talked, I would spend at least three minutes practicing in my head before it all translated into actual verbal communication.  With Micky, I was just ME.  Something that I had forgotten.

I had been hurt and embarrassed enough to know that it wasn’t a good idea to get close to people.  I’d had my share of long-gone friendships, shattered by whatever.  Mostly, it was my fault, my being to possessive and demanding.  So I’d learned to back off and let the other person take control.  I shut my mouth and let them do the talking.  I let them form their own view of me and molded myself to whatever I thought they expected.

I had been pretending for so long, I didn’t even remember who I really was.  What had it been like when I was just me with people?  To not worry about what was expected…what to say or do, but to just DO it. 

It was okay if people thought I was boring.  They’d come to me for academic help, or if they needed a listening ear.  When I wasn’t needed, I was alone.  And I was okay with that.  Being the substitute when the person’s real friends weren’t available, being ignored when they were…  It was okay.  Books were better company anyway. 

So, somehow, I had the feeling that all these thoughts and feelings where bundled up inside of me but there wasn’t any way I could express them.  I didn’t know what exactly it was that I thought and felt.  I only knew that it was there, inside me, somewhere. 

Yet, there were a lot of times when I doubted it.  I started believing what everyone else saw too…I was boring.  I had no personality, no sense of humor.  I isolated myself, devoted myself to work.  Homework, schoolwork, work work. 

There was one time when I reached into a jar of individually wrapped snacks to pull out a package.  When I extracted one from all the others, there was nothing there.  A perfectly sealed, airpuffed nothing.  An empty package that looks like it holds something, but all it’s only really air.  That’s what I was.  That shell of myself.  It looked like there was something more, but there wasn’t.

So it was okay if girls like Stephanie used me, then tossed me aside.  Granted, it stung for a second, but it was nothing.  A numb shell of a person doesn’t feel the sting for long, or at all.  She liked Micky.  I knew that.  Micky obviously knew it and didn’t like the idea.  When he saw me with her, he’d turn and walk the other way.  As soon as she was gone, he’d come back and we’d talk.  He was upset that I brushed his concerns about Stephanie off…maybe he thought I was being naïve…but probably not.  He understood me, even if I didn’t tell him…he understood.

Micky had somehow broken through my defenses.  I don’t know if it was his music, or his persistence, or just the fact that we were somehow alike…but he is someone I will never forget.  Even if I never see him again, I’ll remember.