What makes her so great?
The angry, traitorous thoughts enter my head as I remember the way he looked at her for years Longingly. Dammit, why couldn't he look at me that way?
I turn over on my side. Maybe it's because you've never been nice to him, I think irritably. That was exactly why. She was nice to him, and I was an ass. And yet, I, the ass, have always been the one head over heels in love with him. She, who was and still is extremely nice, wasn't. If it were some cheesy movie, he would have secretly loved me as well, despite my harsh words.
But unfortunately, this wasn't a movie. This was reality. My sucky, sucky reality.
I never get what I want. She gets everything. Sure, she doesn't really want much, but all I really wanted was a mother who actually fed me or was home, and maybe a better place to live. Like, say, an actual apartment?
My best friend, the one I both love dearly and hate with the burning fire of my jealously, lived with her brother, and yet, he fed her. She ate, and I usually had my meals with her. She had a studio for webshow filming. An elevator went up to it, for God's sake!
But still. What really makes her so much better than me?
The fact that she's prettier? Or smarter? Or nicer? Or gets better grades?
It was really too bad… I loved him and he loved her, but she didn't love him back. So neither him nor I were getting what we wanted. If only she would love him back and make him happy. I didn't care if he wasn't with me; I wanted him only to be happy. However, if he was happy with me, and not with her, then so much the better. But if the day came when Carly decided to take something else I wanted desperately and couldn't have, then… I guess I could live.
Ohh, how numb I felt when that day finally came.
No matter how much I want to, I can't bring myself to hate Carly. If I hated her, this would all be so much easier.
That day, many years ago… we were still in high school, and he suddenly—overnight, it seemed—was no longer the boy I fell in love with, but practically a man. That day, and the following days after that, Carly confessed to me words I never will forget.
"I… I think I like—"
I can't bring myself to even think his name.
When she told that to me, I thought I would die on the spot. And yet, through all the heartache, I'm still alive. I haven't died yet.
Eventually they began dating. It got very serious after awhile. For years they were lovers and I was practically forgotten. But, I've always been good at acting, so for years I just put on a smile, pretended to be fine with it, shot iCarly with the same buoyancy I always had. Never once did I cry. I've never been a crier.
But eight months ago… We were twenty-six and still living in Seattle, just different places and apartments. Four months ago, he proposed to her. Of course she said yes. And I couldn't be happier…
I had so many chances to just tell him, "I love you!" And not a one did I take. Now, it's too late.
He and Carly got married today. I had fourteen voicemails on my phone, all of Carly crying, telling me she hated me for not coming to her wedding.
"Today was supposed to be the best day of my life and my maid of honor, my best friend wasn't there!"
Fourteen messages. She didn't know where I was now. I left without warning a week ago. I moved into a shitty place down in Miami. Somewhere far and hot to get myself back on track and move on.
Now while she's crying in his arms and he's telling her once more what a shitty friend I am, I'm curled in my own arms, consoling myself, alone, trying to ignore the heavy metal crap coming from next door. It's two in the morning; turn it off already.
I don't know how it happened, but… now I'm sobbing my heart out into my pillow. Never did I cry. So why now?
What makes her so great?
The angry, traitorous thoughts enter my head once more. Yet, they no longer seem traitorous or angry. I am no longer Carly's friend, I know that, so treachery isn't applicable. And I'm not angry. I never have been.
I cry my heart out throughout the night. And then, when I wake up, I feel refreshed. Like a chapter in my life has just ended and a new one has begun. All I need to do is pick up the pen and write. So I do. I go out and I get a job, and occasionally I think about Carly and her husband, neither of whom I care for anymore. They've probably forgotten all about me.
It's been twenty years. I'm forty-nine now, almost fifty. I have since gotten married to a man I met at work when I was twenty-eight. He is a kind man and I love him dearly. Our daughter is almost nineteen years old. I'm actually very happy with my life.
A thirty-year reunion appears in my mail. I look at it for a moment, then toss it into the recycling with the other junk mail.
xXx
"Carly? Baby, what's wrong?"
The man rushed over to his crying wife and held her. She was clutching in her hands a picture of three people he knew very well.
"Why did she just leave like that?"
"She wasn't your friend, Carly. She wasn't right in the head. You know what her family's like."
"I just wish I knew where she was so I could talk to her."
"She's probably in jail or something."
"You don't know that. She could be married with kids and very happy."
"Doubt it. If she had kids she'd probably eat them. I'm surprised I haven't seen her mugshot on the news."
"Stop talking like that."
"Honey…"
"She had a good heart!"
"She didn't have a heart, sweetie."
Carly jerked herself out of his arms and ran out of the room crying.
For the first time in twenty years, she called her again. "…Sam? It's me, Carly. I really miss you…"
But all she heard was a strange woman tell her that the phone number had been disconnected.