"You're late," Lindsey told me pointedly, as I sat down across from her.
"Well hellooo to you too. Sorry, I got held up at the office."
"I'm starving so I just ordered us both Cobb salads."
"Sounds good. So… you're a week and a half away from the big 3-0. How does it feel?" I asked.
"Ugh, do not remind me."
"Come on, you're not that old."
"Easy for you to say. You just turned 27."
"Exactly. I'm almost as old as you are and I do not like to think of myself being close to old. Therefore, 30 is not that old," I reasoned.
"Whatever, grandma. Scott made the reservation for my birthday though, finally. We have a table at Tower, 10pm. Tell everyone we both know because I'm sure he'll forget people." Scott, her fiancé, was a sweet guy but was never great with these kinds of things. He was a journalist for Rolling Stone, while she ran an after-school program for underprivileged kids at which I'd taught music classes. Her dad had been the drummer in Purple Venom, my dad's old band; we'd known each other when we were little, but only became good friends a couple years ago, when we met again at a tribute event.
"Done."
"But enough about my descent into geriatric misery… Spencer's getting home soon."
"I am aware," I smirked.
"Just aware?"
"Obviously, I'm excited. I just don't want her to think I've been sitting around, waiting for her to get back."
"But you haven't seen her in, like, more than 2 years. I think you're allowed to show some kind of emotion about it," Lindsey argued. "What is it she's been doing again?"
"For the ten millionth time, she makes documentaries. Like, ones about social justice and stuff. She's been in Angola and Namibia."
"Oh yeah. You know you never really told me the whole Spencer story."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, sure the subject had been brought up.
"I mean, I've heard bits and pieces of it. You showed her the gay way in high school and then she went to Africa. Everything in between is kind of blurry."
"Well, what do you wanna know?"
"I don't know. Why'd you guys break up?" I was kind of surprised I'd never told her any of this before. Lindsey had become a close friend, if not my closest, and she knew a lot more about me than most did.
"I guess the first mistake was moving in together when we were 18. Like, we were really in love and having her there was incredible, but it was just too much too soon, you know? And I think she always regretted not being able to get that freshman year, dorm life experience. Sooo, when her junior year rolled around, she decided to go abroad all year."
"Where'd she go?"
"Chile. And I was in my needy phase, so obviously I was not happy about it. But Spencer wanted to do her own thing, so we just… ended it."
"Her idea?"
"Yep," I said. "We started hanging out again when she came back for senior year and I thought we were going to get back together. But I guess I had the wrong idea, because before anything could really happen, she decided she was going to go to New York for grad school; I told her I'd move to New York if we were going to give it another shot, but she… she told me not to. And I guess I just lost it then. I moved out of our old loft and into my house, throwing crazy parties all the time. I was drinking and clubbing… doing a lot of things I regret. It took awhile before I realized I was throwing my life away."
I had been stalking the NYU academic calendar online. I knew Spencer would be home and briefly toyed with the idea of calling her up to get coffee, or something civil like that. But that just would not be my style these days and instead, I decided to liquor myself up for a night on the town. Again.
I got as far as her first club of the night when I was drunk enough to call Spencer. It rang three times before I realized I was, in fact, still too sober and hung up the phone. Of course she called back; caller ID was a magical invention. It worked both ways though, and I did not pick up. Spencer left no voicemail.
It took a couple hours, another club, and a few more drinks before I was truly ready for this call. This time, the phone rang and Spencer picked up.
"Hello?"
"Spencer…" She'd actually picked up.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, I just… hi." Hi? I hadn't heard her voice in months and that was the best I could come up with? "I miss you."
Silence.
"Can I see you?" I asked. "Like tonight? I can come over and we can just talk and-"
"Ashley, it's two in the morning and you're trashed."
"I need to see you, Spencer."
"No."
"Please, just… Spencer… please." I could feels the tears forming in the corners of my eyes as I listened to Spencer sigh.
"I'm not doing this with you right now." And with that, the blonde hung up.
Devastated, I proceeded to drink myself into oblivion, as per usual. An after-party ensued at my beachfront estate and pretty soon, my living room was filled with a few people I knew and a ton of people I didn't. Music was being played, drinks were being poured, lines were being snorted, and girls were abundant. This was all I needed, right? Wrong. I called again but this time she had turned off her phone.
"Hey, it's me. Um, I just… call me back the second you get this. I miss you so much, Spencer… and I just want to see you. And I know you're home 'cause I checked your school calendar online. Please call me back. I'm putting my phone on really loud so even if I'm sleeping I'll hear you. And my phone's like a… a fucking fire alarm when it's on really loud. So call me, okay? Or if you want, just come over when you wake up. My gate password and my alarm password are your birthday so I'll always remember it. The password, I mean… so I'll remember the password.. I'll remember your birthday too because-" The beep signaled that time had run out and, sighing, I turned my phone on loud before setting it next to my nightstand. And then went back to the party…
The following day, I awoke with barely a hangover. I silently thanked my father's excellent genes and quickly checked my phone. No missed calls, no messages. I cringed momentarily at my call and voice message to Spencer, but figured if anything, at least the blonde would know I was around if she wanted to see me. The day went on, however, with no word from Spencer. And when I went out again the following night, I left two more drunken voice messages begging to see her.
Two mornings after my first attempt to contact her, I stepped into the living room, avoiding the few remaining partygoers who had passed out in various locations and put on a pot of coffee. I may or may not have woken up drunk.
"I didn't know you got new roommates." The voice. I gripped the counter, nervous as anything, before turning around. Spencer was even more beautiful than the last time I'd seen her.
"Hey."
"Ashley… what are you doing with yourself?"
"Um… making breakfast? Do you want anything? Coffee should be ready in a few minutes. Or maybe we could go out for breakfast?"
"Are you still drunk?"
"My treat?"
"I'm not going out for breakfast with you."
"Okay, well… here, sit down. I can make you chocolate chip pancakes. Still your favorite, right?"
"Ashley… no, I… you can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Everything. The late night drunken phone calls, begging me to see you. You just… you don't get it."
"What?"
"I broke up with you because I needed space, Ashley. I needed my independence back. And you… you need the same thing. You need to stop doing this crap, the drinking, the calling, and the- the clubbing every night… because if you want to start hanging out with me again, and going out for breakfast, and all of that, you need to be your own person. With your own life. Your own job, your own friends… you and me, we are different people. You can't just wait around for me all your life, Ashley. If you keep doing that, you're going to be waiting forever."
I would never, ever forget that day. I ended up taking Spencer's advice to heart. I left L.A. and sobered up, doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching in the process. I was still songwriting on the side though and by the time Spencer finished grad school a year and a half later, two of my songs had reached the top-10 on the Billboards. I had my own office at a major record label and was in extremely high demand across the music industry, if I can say so myself. I'd even made friends…real friends… something that had never exactly come easily for me.
"So you haven't seen her since then?"
"No, I have. There was a party that some of the label bigwigs threw for me when my first song hit number one and I invited her. She couldn't make it but she called me up and we went out for coffee a couple times before she left."
"Coffee? No passionate, emotional sex?"
"Not quite," I dismissed her with a laugh.
"And she's coming back tomorrow?"
"Yeah…"
"I give it a week before you're doing the dirty. Just make sure you introduce me before you guys disappear in the bedroom for the next two years."
