Thank you everyone for the encouragement, as always it means a lot. =)
Sometimes, people drift.
Like flotsam. Flotsam. That's a fantastic word. I remember having it as a vocabulary word somewhere in high school. It was the only word I ever actually learned. Flotsam.
My relationship, or should I say friendship, with Spencer Carlin didn't take a dramatic turn. There was no yelling. There was no fight, no moving away to another state or country. There was no declaration of love and rejection. Just, a drift.
I often think that something dramatic might have been so much better than this mundane drifting bullshit. It would give a purpose to the reason that I only speak to her twice a month, at the most. Only see her three months at a time. It would make these things important, meaningful. The fact that our friendship slowly died is part of the despair that I often feel.
The Cliff Notes version of the story is that me and Spencer were best friends. In high school. And in her early college years. Then I realized I loved her. I didn't do anything. Eventually, we drifted. Although, Cliff Notes doesn't always give you all the details.
But we're not doing the short version of this story, are we?
The worst part about this is the fact that we both still live in the same area. Spencer goes to NYU and I live in the city as well. My mother lives in the city. Kyla lives here. We're all here but that doesn't change that fact that we don't see each other. It's sad, and also kind of depressing.
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I sit at a table in Starbucks, sipping my coffee, a newspaper spread out in front of me. I like to sit in the window, watching people walk past. Sometimes, I'll see a girl with blonde hair and my head will turn, watching her walk down the street. I wonder if that's her. It usually isn't, New York City is a big place. But so small at the same time. You run into people that you haven't seen in years. Saying Long time no see! Then you run into them again at Rite Aid, saying Two times in the same week, wow! But people that you want to run into, people that you actually know, you never see them.
The universe is a bitch like that.
My eyes immediately glue to that of a blonde-haired girl on the taller side. She's walking with a shorter guy, swinging a purse between them. She has on a hat and I know it's not Spencer. Spencer would never wear a hat.
My eyes stay on that hat until the girl disappears down the street.
"What about this one?" Spencer asked me in the middle of Macy's.
She was wearing a hat that I thought looked like one of those French hats. It made me want to call her Pierre.
"Are you going to France?" I asked her, a slight chuckle in my voice.
Spencer glared at me, obvious not happy with my snippy comments. She took it off her head, her blonde hair all static-y and messed up. "You're not helping."
"Spence, we've been trying on shit for like, two hours."
Spencer then picked up a trucker hat and put it on her head. "How 'bout this one."
I looked at her. "Sure." Her eyes lit up for a second. "If you want to go to some place like, Ohio, hick."
She made an aggravated noise. "Ohio is not full of hicks."
"How would you know, you've never been there." I retorted.
"Neither have you." She said, taking off the trucker hat. It had sparkles on it, too. Which made it even funnier.
I picked up a small beanie and put it over my curls. Spencer looked at me and the corners of her mouth turned up. "Why do you look good in hats and I don't?"
I laughed, adjusting the beanie, trying to get my curls to stay down and not get bunched up. "Obviously my head is just better than yours." I snickered.
"Shut up Ashley." She said, throwing a pair of socks at my head.
"Hi, do you ladies need any help?" A young guy said, interrupting our hat trying-on session. He looked to be about in his young twenties. Brown hair, brown eyes, charming smile. He asked us both the question but his eyes lingered a little bit too long on Spencer.
"Oh no, we're just trying on hats." Spencer told him with a smile. "I'm not having any luck." Spencer had a tendency to divulge too much information to complete strangers. Like they actually wanted to listen to her life story.
"Oh? I don't know, that trucker hat looked good on you." The guy said with a smile, flashing his pearly whites at my best friend.
I snorted, maybe too loudly. But the guy ignored me.
"Maybe, I don't think my head is fit for hats." Spencer said to him.
"Nah, I think it's nice." He said. I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Well, just give me a shout if you need any help. I'm Andy."
"Thanks Andy." I said sarcastically, waving him away.
I took the beanie off my head and placed it back on the rack. "He was nice." Spencer said to me. "And cute."
"Pssssh. Yeah, if you like people with dicks hanging off of them." I retorted.
Spencer shrugged. "I think he liked me." She said absentmindedly, walking away from the hat section.
"Yah think?" I snorted. "He's probably waiting in the dressing room for you for a quickie."
"Nice Ash." Spencer laughed.
I quickened my steps to walk next to her. "What? Done with the hats?"
"Yeah." She replied lazily. "I don't think I like hats. Where would I wear one anyway?"
"I don't know, maybe when you're having sex with Andy. He seems to think you look cute in hats."
"And you don't?" She asked, stopping to look at a scarf.
I smiled lightly at her, as she examined a blue and pink scarf. Her fingers running over the material gently. "No, you look cute in hats. You look cute in anything." I said and was surprised that that came out of my mouth. What was that?
Spencer just chuckled. "Thanks. Wish I could say the same about you."
I shoved her lightly with one hand. "Hey!"
Spencer laughed some more, it was deep and coming from her chest. She grabbed my hand and started towards the exit. "Come on, I'm so over hats."
I sip some more of my coffee, thinking about whether I should go home or not. I have some things to do, but I don't feel like walking into an empty apartment. I frown into my coffee cup and lift my head at that exact moment to see a tall, handsome, green-eyed guy walk inside.
His eyes find mine and I smile unconvincingly. And I realize at this moment that you cannot escape your past.
Ever.
"Ashley!"
"Hi Aiden." I say as he sits down across from me.
It's not that I don't like Aiden. He's my friend, has been my friend since high school. Aiden was my boyfriend for about a week in ninth grade until he kissed me and it didn't feel right. I broke up with him in a note and he cried for a day. Then told everyone that he broke up with me. Then, a year later, after I got over hating him, he was assigned to be my lab partner and we became friends.
"What's up? What brings you to this area?" He says in that gruff voice that I've grown used to. The only time I have ever heard that gruff voice falter was when he was sobbing because his girlfriend had cheated on him. He absolutely loved her and it broke his heart. To this day, I don't think he's over it.
"I was at my mom's. She's getting married again." I say easily, like I'm telling him about the weather.
Aiden nods. "I know, Glen told me."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. So, you gotta go through all that wedding bull-crap again?" He asks, sympathy in his eyes because he's been through my bitching and ranting the last three million times.
"Unfortunately. Apparently, she said this time it's going to be big. I don't know what that means because I though the last one was big. I'm expecting a Macy's Day Parade for this one." I say bitterly.
Aiden chuckles. "I wouldn't doubt it. You going to Kyla's and Glen's for dinner tomorrow night?"
I shrug. "I was thinking about it. I don't know, we'll see. How's um, the blonde one, Carol?" I ask, forgetting his current fling's name. Ever since that girl broke his heart, Aiden has been like a speed dater. One girl after another, just fun. Nothing serious.
Aiden smiles. "Kate." He corrects. "She's good, actually. I like her a lot. I guess we both have a thing for blondes." He says.
I give Aiden a look that says don't even go there. "Where'd you meet her again?" I ask, changing the subject.
Aiden smiles slyly. "Victoria's Secret."
"And why the hell were you in Victoria's Secret?"
"To meet chicks." Aiden says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"That's messed up, Aid." I chuckle, taking a sip of my coffee, which is still hot. I swear, they heat their coffee with beams of sunlight.
"Well it worked, didn't it?" He says with an easy smile. "Anyway, I gotta run. I'll see you tomorrow night?" He asks, getting up from the table and heading over to the counter to order his drink.
"Maybe!" I shout over to him.
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When I finally do get home, it's later than I thought it was. I don't even know what I did all day to pass the time. As always, my apartment is dark and empty. I throw my keys on the small table next to the door and head into the kitchen. I grab a beer from my fridge, pop the cap, and chug about half of it.
When I go to press the play button on my answering machine, I see that I have five new messages.
One. My mother.
Hello Ashley dear. I just wanted to remind you that you're supposed to come over today. You were supposed to be here five minutes ago and I hope you're not drunk and passed out in your bed. Wouldn't be the first time honey. See you soon.
I roll my eyes. That must have been while I was on my way there. Why she never called my cell phone confuses me.
Two. Jamie.
Hi Ashley. I just wanted to see if I could reschedule our lesson for tomorrow? I have this meeting I forgot I have. She chuckles. Anyway, just let me know. Thanks!
Jamie is a girl I give guitar lessons to. For being eighteen, she's really not that annoying. She's grown to be one of my favorite students. Students. God, that makes me sound like I'm a teacher or something. Maybe I am.
Three. Frank's Autobody?
Hello. This is Frank's Autobody. We're just calling to let you know that your vespa is done with maintenance and you can come by to pick it up anytime during the hours of ten to three. Have a nice day.
I frown. I don't have a vespa.
Four. Kyla.
Hey Ash, I just wanted to let you know that if you want to come to dinner tomorrow night, we're gunna eat at around six-ish. But you're welcome to come over before or whatever. Let me know.
Five. Madison.
Ashley Davies! Where the hell have you been you whore bag. I've been trying to get in touch with you for the last three days. Stop being an ass and call me back. I think we should go out tonight. If you don't call me back then I'm coming to your apartment. You know I'll get in too, your door-man thinks I'm hot. Oh and by the way I saw that girl Trish yesterday and she asked me about you and why you haven't called her back yet. I said your grandma was in the hospital. I saved your booty, you owe me Davies.
I smirk lightly. Madison Duarte makes my life substantially more entertaining. And she's consistent. So when I hear a knock at my door, I'm not surprised that it's her and that I wasn't buzzed to let her up.
"I told you I was going to come over." She says, giving me a quick hug and heading to my kitchen area.
"I just got home Madison. Jesus, you could have given me fifteen minutes."
"Um, I've given you like three days."
I sit down on the couch, beer in hand. "My mom's getting married. Again."
"No shit?" Madison says, heading over the couch with a beer in her hand as well. "That woman is always getting married. It's like her hobby or something."
I laugh. "Yeah."
"No offense, but I don't think I can help you with all that bullshit again. Too much." She says, taking a sip.
"None taken. I barely wanna do it myself. So, my grandma's in the hospital, huh?"
Madison smirks. "Yeah, you know, you were too torn up about it to give this girl a call."
"Thanks." I tell her lightly.
"No problem. But come on Ash, what was wrong with this one?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I just didn't feel anything."
"You never feel anything." She answers dejectedly.
"Whatever. We went out on one date, it's not like I slept with her." I say a little angrily.
Madison rolls her eyes. "Yeah, and when was the last time you got laid?"
I sigh. "Shut up Madison. Some of us don't need to be sleeping with all of New York City."
"Hey, I like to have my fun. That's no crime."
"You're right. I'm sorry." I say sarcastically while turning on the TV.
We sit in silence for a while, just sipping our beers and watching TV. It's nice sometimes, to have a friend that you can sit comfortably with, no talking necessary. Madison is that for me. I think that's a rare thing, to be able to be quiet with a friend and have it be peaceful.
But I miss the way Spencer would snuggle up next to me, even when doing something mundane, like watching TV. I miss the way she would fall asleep half way through, snoring lightly on my shoulder. Then I would have to wake her up, even though she looked so peaceful and adorable, to tell her it was time to go home.
Madison is not a snuggler. And she's not that intimate friend. She's that blunt, in your face friend. Everyone needs one of those, I think. But I miss that intimate friend.
"Did you talk to Spencer today?" Madison asks randomly, eyes on the TV, lips on the bottle.
"No, Madison." I say plainly. Eyes calm on the TV but heart racing erractically.
Madison has taken to asking me if I've talked, seen, or heard from Spencer Carlin quite often. She's never met her, but she continually asks. I made the mistake of telling her the whole story one drunken night. I made the mistake of telling her I love Spencer in more ways than one.
"Come on Ashley. Jesus, when was the last time you saw the girl? You know, Spencer, your best friend."
I stay quiet.
"You need to see her. What, you saw her like three months ago, right? She's here in New York, like she's always been. What's the problem?" Madison says sincerely. I know she's trying to help but I don't want her to.
"I don't need to. And you know what the problem is. Just, stop." I spit.
"What?"
I keep my eyes glued on the TV. I take another long sip of my beer. "Don't make me say it. Just, leave it. Seriously."
Madison sighs. "Fine. But don't get all snarky with me. I get it, but you never do anything about it Ashley. You never did." And with that, she's quiet again, watching TV.
I don't even bother replying. Because I hate being wrong and I know she's right.