I knew her since we were ten. She christened my first cat – Coconut, and when my sister heard it she blanched out loud. I was always mean to her by a best friend’s standard. I was rough, sarcastic and a bully. But I had her back, and I always will. We were tough and no-nonsense. We didn’t hug, even at eleven years old. We hardly cry or reminisce, even being girls, even at 13. The first time she slept over my house, she wore her jeans.
I couldn’t make decisions without her. She was always nice to me.
It’s funny what your mind remembers. Years ago when I wanted to drop out of university, she gave me a long text message about how WE just don’t give up. We were the stupid ones – who did about 130 maths questions everyday while the rest floated by in class. We were the ones with big dreams. I had a really bad day when I was 22 in uni and a phonecall with her in the middle of the empty parking lot made me feel better. Sometimes I wonder why she’s always nice to me. We talk once in 6 months.
The last time we met and had dinner together, it was a year ago.
Sometimes I miss those days when we were ‘bestfriends’ but then those moments pass.
Everybody remembers the one friend that was always there for you. For me, she was it.
