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A Narrative |
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| By katrina | 2010-05-07 01:37:55 |
| Brooke Her hair was dark brown, same as her eyes. She had a tiny frame, however, her attitude could have filled someone twice her size. I never wished to be her. I only wanted to know her. Her beauty, her way with words. A petite girl with more courage than anyone I have ever known. It was her bravery as well as arrogance that drew me to her. That personality is the kind of intoxicating perfume anyone could have detected. We all knew the kind of family she came from. Alcoholic father, idiotic mother, abusive older brother and two younger siblings eager to follow in their family’s footsteps. Sadly though, she did not see any of this. Her family was normal in her mind and who is to judge her? What is normal anyway? It was in middle school at the age of thirteen when I met her. Two years later I became one of her close acquaintances. It would be five years more before I would truly befriend her. I had an older sister and I would do anything to be allowed to hang out with her and her friends. Unfortunately, that meant I learned how to smoke and drink much too early in life. As fate would have it, so did she. After meeting her a few times at parties, I finally received a phone call from her. One can imagine my elation to hear that she had stolen her father’s car and a bottle of rum and that she would be at my house in a half an hour to pick me up. After sneaking out of my parents’ house and getting in the car with her, she informed me that we would be going to the local park to meet a couple of high school boys. At first I was hesitant, afraid to admit that I did not think I was cool enough to hang out with much more mature boys. Although this was in the back of my mind, I never let it reach my tongue for fear that she would never speak to me again. She could tell all of the girls at school how dumb I was, never leave me a seat at their lunch table… As we pulled into a parking spot near the park, I could see out of the corner of my eye two boys leaning lazily against a set of monkey bars. They were both wearing backwards caps and baggy jeans. One had a pack of cigarettes in his hand while the other had a bottle of Coke-Cola. I believe I turned a shade lighter than my usual pallor because she leaned over to me and said, “Don’t worry, these guys are harmless.” As the hours and the drinks dragged on throughout the night, my confidence began to increase with each sip. I found myself creeping exponentially closer to one of the boys with each passing minute. I began to let him put his arm around my shoulder as he slowly kissed my neck. This part will forever be a misty memory. I wish it were not. Losing one’s virginity is not something anyone really wants to forget, however, being only fourteen and drunk has caused my recollection of that night to waver. All I remember is being woken up by her telling me it was almost six in the morning and she was going to get beat my her Dad if we did not leave now. With grass cuts on my thighs and wet sand in my hair I snuck back into my house and watched her drive away. A feeling of extreme enlightenment and overwhelming depression overtook my body as I slowly drifted to sleep in my warm, inviting bed. Over the next year, I became angry and withdrawn from everyone and everything…except her. She understood me, she cared about me. She wanted to know where I was going and who I was hanging out with at all times. I mistook that for love and friendship. It got to the point that I was literally living with her family. I almost never left. After spending months like this, I finally received a phone call from my father asking me if he could pick me up because he wanted to speak with me. Reluctantly, I said yes and we ended up driving for about three hours. During that time, he informed me of how worried the entire family was for me, how he knew this was not me and that he believed when the time was right, I would come back to them. Luckily that time came sooner that he thought because almost immediately after the car ride, I received a call from her. She wanted to know what my father had to say and what time I wanted to be picked up because we were going out to celebrate her fifteenth birthday. She explained how we were going to catch a ride with these two older girls, go to a party to get high, then head to a club out of town where they let in minors. I thought a bout her offer for a minute. Then, for the first time in almost two years, I said no to her. I told her I was so very sorry but I did not want to go to a party with her tonight. I wanted to go home and be with my family. “You’re lame,” she said. “Hope you have fun with your stupid family!” I hung up the phone feeling saddened and satisfied. From now on, things were going to change between her and I. I was no longer going to let her run my life. I would tell her everything the next day when I woke up. She was never going to make me feel the way I felt that hazy night at the park again. That night she went out to a party in the country and smoked marijuana. Soon afterward, she and her two friends drove to the club out of town. The club just happened to be asking everybody for identification that night. She told the other two girls to go on inside without her because she was tired and wanted to take a nap in the backseat of the car. A couple hours later, the two girls stumbled out of the club and got into the car. She was still sleeping in the back while they pulled away from the parking lot. Halfway from town, the driver lost control of the vehicle and slammed into a telephone pole. She was thrown from the backseat and was later found in a nearby ditch, barely alive. It took the paramedics and hour to get to her because the two girls , who walked away from the crash unscathed, refused to call the police until all evidence of drinking and smoking had been thrown away so they would not get in trouble. After a week of being in a coma, she finally awoke to the realization that she could not feel anything from the neck down. She could barely breathe on her own. Feeling angry about her situation, she shunned everyone from her life, including me as well as her family or anyone else who cared for her. Unable to sway her, I went on to graduate high school…one friend less. Three years after high school, I found myself working as a State Tested Nurses Aid at a local nursing home when I received a call from her. She said she thought about me all the time and wanted to see me if I would agree to it. I, of course, accepted and went right after work. She had changed quite a bit. She had grown even skinnier, if it were possible. Her body sat lifeless and slumped in a round camping chair. Her eyes and hair, however, had not lost their mystery and luster. “I’m sorry for the way I acted before, the things I’ve done,” she said tearfully. “I know you could never be friends with me again for all the pain I put you, but maybe if you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I might be able to start forgiving myself.” They say time heals all things. I believe time heals because it makes us understand why things happen to people and where we fit in with the world. I told her nothing would make me happier than to be friends with her again. I am not going to say it took her getting paralyzed to see the error of her ways. She would have seen them in one way or another. It was not an act of God either, whatever that means. It was an accident, something that no one could have foreseen. She will have to live with it for the rest of her life. I quit my job at the nursing home. I now work for her full time as one of her aids. Maybe this is not the happiest of endings, however, I was able to get my best friend back and Brooke was able to see the true meaning of life. Can that not be considered a happy ending? |
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