Jami's Second Best Friend

I had a revelation last week, about a friendship that has been over more than 18 years. But before I can tell you the revelation, I have to tell you the story. It's about the second best friend I had. Not my second-best friend, my second "best friend".

My first-ever best friend was Lori who lived next door since I was three. Best friends because of proximity, really. Then school started and one day, when we were in second grade, Lori said to me "You know, we're not best friends anymore. I'm best friends with Monica now." I hadn't known. I tried to talk her into being my best friend again, but it was not to be. They were in dance and softball together, I was in neither. I needed a new best friend. And I got "Leah" (not her real name, to be nice). Leah didn't have a best friend at the time, she wasn't in dance, or softball or the other big activity, Girl Scouts. Oh, she did about a month in GS, but it wasn't her.

Leah was brave. She played at recess with no apparent fear of falling or looking ridiculous. She stood up to bullies, male and female. One in particular, a girl I secretly called "Ape Face" (because of an unfortunate protruding jaw and large forehead combination), had given me some trouble. Ape Face tried to bully her, but Leah not only didn't cry, she told her off. When Ape Face took a swing at her, Leah grabbed her arm and clawed her up so much that Ape Face was sent to the nurse, and Leah to the principal. Leah liked me and I was fascinated by her. A somewhat spoiled, very adored only child, Leah knew lots more about "the world" than I did, and her family had cable and a VCR. How lucky I felt to have her as a best friend.

Disaster struck again in third grade. As we sat on the curb one day at recess, Leah dropped a bomb - her parents told her they were moving to New York. Since their family all lived here in Pittsburgh, she'd come back every Christmas break and for a whole month in the summer. We could write and her parents would let her call now and then. We could still be best friends. I don't know if it's because I liked her so much or that by then all the "good" best friends were taken or that I'd started to be a little more independent and didn't need a best friend in the same way the other girls seemed to, but that's exactly what happened. I had a long-distance best friend. We wrote once or twice a month, she called now and then and we got to spend all of Christmas Break and one whole month each summer hanging out.

As we got older, Leah seemed leaps and bounds ahead of me in all areas, except scholastically. Her letters and calls contained fabulous stories of the things she'd done and seen. When we hit junior high, she had tales of the boys who adored her, so many she'd had to turn scads of them down. She'd been to wonderful places, attended the concerts of all the bands we liked, sampled exotic cuisine, shopped for clothing with designer names I'd never heard before (I never even owned real Jordaches, I don't think.) It never occurred to me that Leah might have been lying. Later, her adventures became even more outrageous: she claimed to have gotten backstage passes to our favorite band - they liked her so much they still called her every so often and when they were in town, took her out to breakfast. While in Europe, she accidentally got on a train instead of the subway and ended up in a different country, where she a European offered to buy her "American socks" for enough money to get back to her parents. At that point I did start asking a few questions, probably in a skeptical tone and she seemed so hurt that I'd doubt her, my own best friend, that I let it drop. Why would she lie? After all, we were best friends. Even in 8th grade, with tons of new friends and in a great youth group, I was terrified to lose my "best friend" so I always agreed with her, let her talk me into a few things that were not the best idea, but not dangerous, and just went along with what she said.

In an Amy Tan novel, one of the characters says something along the lines of "this is where our friendship took four splits and five cracks". I've always loved that line. Our friendship took four splits and five cracks on the night of New Year's Eve, 1989. We were in 9th grade, and going to a party at a friend's house. Leah and I went, and at her insistence, the boyfriend who had dumped me rather ignominiously the year before. They'd become friends during her visits and before he and I dated. The party turned out to be a dud, none of the friends we expected to be there were, just kids we sort-of knew and didn't really like. Leah had the idea to go to her uncle's house and party with her family, if we could get a ride there. I called my mom, who insisted, rather uncooly I thought, that I stay at the party, so she'd know where I was and that I hadn't been hit by a drunk driver, plus, she didn't know the uncle. I broke the news to Leah and the ex. It didn't even phase them. Leah called her parents, he called his and the next thing I knew, I was alone at a party with people I didn't like.

The next afternoon I called Leah to have her mom tell me she wasn't up yet. I waited for my apology the entire day. And the next. Then I called again, and was told that Leah and her family had gone back home. No apology. Not even a goodbye.

I sent her a long heartfelt letter. Maybe she didn't know how hurt I'd been that she left. Maybe she thought I didn't mind if she left me there. Maybe she was too embarrassed to talk to me and just needed to know I'd forgive her. A few days later, the phone rang - oh joy! It was Leah!

She couldn't believe how uncool I was being about this. What was the meaning of this letter? I was mad at her?? As her best friend, didn't I want her to be happy? She'd been too unhappy at the party, and going off with the ex, well, that made her happy, how could I be selfish enough to expect them to stay? Oh, and she was kinda-sorta going out with him, but I was over him, right? I poured out my hurt and outrage. I ended my rant with "And you know what, I bet all this time, you've just been using me. Using me so you don't have to be bored and alone when you're here." Her reply, in the iciest voice I'd ever heard: "Of course, I have. That's what friends do. They use each other." I hung up. I never spoke to her again.

She did write me a couple of times, maybe forgetting we weren't friends anymore? Once I got a postcard from a mental hospital, unsigned, which said something like "This is in crayon because if you try to kill yourself, you don't get to have sharp objects, even pencils. How are you? I am fine." From the postmark, I guessed it was her. She continued "dating" my ex when she was in town. I think she became the same kind of curse on him that she'd been on me. He and I made our peace in high school, but I never asked about her. I couldn't bring myself to care again.

S0, now that the whole saga is spilled forth, what's the revelation? Hmm, this has gotten so long, how about if I get into that tomorrow?