I met her in 7th grade, 1986, I think. She didn't like me. She had played flute in band for a few years, and I had just tried out. I sat a seat in front of her. And, turns out, I had a crush on the same guy she did. So there I sat, a seat ahead of her in the flute section of 7th grade concert band, talking about this cute boy. Needless to say, she didn't like me at all.
I don't really remember exactly how our relationship progressed after that. In fact, it was years before she admitted to me that she initially didn't like me. Somewhere between band try-outs in 7th grade and 8th grade, we became best friends. We are totally opposite in many ways. I was always shy, quiet, with a small group of close friends. She was always boisterous, outgoing, and seemed to know everyone. She pledged our high school sorority, something I thought was totally ridiculous. She was the life of the party, she seemed to draw attention to herself with all sorts of crazy antics. I was always the wall flower, and I never wanted attention. We always managed to blend together well, regardless of the blatant differences. I always admired her for everything she was that I was not.
In 8th grade, we used to go to the library with a group of 5 or 6 girls. We would ask to play a board game, then get giggling so badly the librarians threatened to throw us out every single day. We couldn't go to the library and not giggle. I think just because we knew we were suppose to be quiet, we wanted to giggle. And if you've ever tried to stop a giggle, or keep it quiet, you know that this defies some law of life. Can't be done. Yet, 2 or 3 times a week, our group of girls would go to the library just to hang out together. And I'm pretty sure the librarians hated us.
We took driver's ed the summer after we turned 16. We would eat a lunch of bagels with cream cheese and jelly at her house, then walk back to the school, which was about 2 miles away, for class. Many times, we stopped at the Great American grocery store along the way to buy a pack of Keebler Magic Middles cookies. More than once we were late to driver's ed because of this. One day I went to class without her, and she showed up late, saying she had gotten hit by a car on the way. On the last day of class, I was driving and when I stopped at a red light, she yelled "Chinese fire drill!!" then she and the other 2 passengers jumped out of the car, ran around it, and switched spots before jumping back in. The instructor was super confused, and we were all laughing so hard, we could hardly breathe.
In 9th grade, we had Spanish class at the same time, with different teachers, in rooms right next to each other. One day, she sneezed, and I heard it. As we met in the hallway after class, I said, "Bless you." She looked at me and asked, "You hear that?" I told her I was pretty sure the whole first floor heard it. Then she blushed and laughed loudly. She had an awesomely infectious laugh.
We spent lots of time together through high school. I spent lots of time at her house. One night, as we were sitting outside looking at the stars, she told me a story. She said people are like stars. There's millions and millions of them, but when you look quickly at a group, at first you only see the bright ones - the people who are loudest and who stand out the most. But if you take time to examine the group and look closely, you'll see the smaller stars - the people who are just as wonderful, but don't always stand out. I'll always remember that. And when I look at the stars and see the bright ones, I think of her.
We were in color guard and marching band together. One evening after practice, she left her flag on the practice field. So she drove her car back to get it... drove onto the practice field, with the band instructors still meeting there. Then there was the time that she ran into construction on the main road in front of the high school on her way from practice, and decided she didn't want to wait, so she did an illegal U-turn. She used to get in trouble at band camp for being goofy and messing around when she wasn't suppose to be. And the bus trips.... oh the stories I could come up with from all of our many bus trips.
She was there to help dress me up when I went to the Senior Prom as a freshman. We had countless band and choir banquets together. She always let me borrow her clothes or offered to do my hair. She was a crazy tom-boy but she was also girlier than I was. We spent hours upon hours on the phone. We would talk late at night and fall asleep on each other. Well, ok, I would fall asleep on her. She'd have to yell into the earpiece in order to wake me up so I could hang up the phone. I don't have any idea what we talked about, but we were constantly talking to one another. No matter what we did, we always had fun. She was the poster child for jubilance. She always seemed so happy and care-free. And she was always laughing that infectious laugh.
After high school, we went our separate ways but always kept in touch. She visited me and I visited her. And we'd laugh and have fun. Our lives moved on and we grew up, but never lost contact with one another. Even after not hearing from one another for months, we would pick up exactly where we left off, and talk for hours, just like in high school. A short phone call was 30 minutes. And those were rare.
The past few years have been different. Somewhere along the way, she changed. Or, I should say, something changed her. She began to be paranoid and started displaying signs of delusion. Our phone calls were different. She didn't laugh as much. Eventually, she didn't laugh at all. No one could rationalize with her, reason with her. Her version of reality had completely taken over and no matter how hard any of her family or friends tried, we couldn't convince her otherwise. It was a dark path she was on, and although many people tried our best, we couldn't get her off of it.
She called me yesterday. She told me what a good friend I had been and thanked me for always being there for her. Something was wrong. I didn't know what to say. She shared with me a little more of her skewed reality, and I just did not know what to say. I told her thank you for being a good friend to me. She said she wanted me to know how important I was and how much she appreciated me. I didn't know what to say. When she said she had to go, we both said "I love you." I didn't know what else to say.
At some point yesterday, after she called me, she took her life. She called me to say goodbye and I never knew what to say to her. I wish I could have stopped her. I wish I could have taken her pain away. I wish I could have made things better for her. But I know there was nothing else I could have done. She was too far down that path and she didn't want any help getting out of it. We tried, we all tried. Her reality was just too real.
I'm angry that it ended this way. I'm angry at her for not listening and getting help. I'm angry that she's gone. She was my best friend for 25 years, longer than I've known anyone else. I can only hope and pray that she's at peace. I hope she's freed from the troubles and worries that so badly tormented her for the past few years. I hope that wherever she is, she's laughing that wonderful laugh again.
She'll always be remembered by the people who knew her, and there will always be a story to tell about something crazy she did. May you forever rest in peace, Jennifer. I love you.
