“OK,” I said.
“OK?” she asked.
“OK, as in, get your fanny out here, you bitch,” I let out. In our language, this meant ‘sweet sweet best friend, oh God, I’ve missed you.’ We would have to talk about what had happened over Thanksgiving between us, but in the meantime, I needed my best friend back just as much as she may have needed me.
“Forget you, you slut,” she battered back at me in full force. “I can’t believe you haven’t called me in like four months.” We were on the road to recovery.
“Well, sometimes a whore bag needs to wait for the penis face to get off her bony buttocks and give a lady a ringy ding,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Should we take a road trip for old time’s sake?” she asked keenly. Road trips to Cape Cod, New York, Ocean City and Ohio littered our adolescence. It was something we never grew sick of – the steadiness of the road, the great music blaring on the stereo, the alphabet game. There was truly nothing like a good road trip.
“God, I don’t know. I mean, it doesn’t have to be a road trip…it could just be a little get away somewhere. There’s San Francisco near me - but then there would be the hotel costs. We could maybe see if Zayna would have us in Laguna Niguel? Oh. What about Vegas? Have you ever been there?” I asked.
“No, I haven’t. Oh my God. I would love that, and it does have to be a road trip. I want to get back to how we used to be,” she said. That would take quite a bit, I thought. “But wouldn’t we have to pay a lot to stay there? I heard prices have gotten expensive.”
“My uncle lives there,” I reminded her.
“Oh, he doesn’t live in San Diego anymore?” she said.
“Nope. He moved a couple of years ago. I’m sure he would put us both up for a couple of nights, and he remembers you from when we visited him like ten years ago or whatever it was.” I opened my laptop to send him an email. “So, he would be even happier to know it was you coming with me. Plus, I bet he would take us out for a nice dinner…maybe even in the kitchen section with Emeril Lagassi.”
“Really? You think he would be OK with that? I mean, with me staying there? Not the dinner because of course I don’t expect that to happen.” she said. Even if she didn’t expect it to happen, it would. My uncle was beyond generous and loved taking his nieces to nice restaurants especially when he knew the head chef. He considered Chelsea a niece.
“Of course he would!”
“That’s so weird,” Chelsea said, “because Victor was just about to go to Vegas for a bachelor party last month. At least he says he was… I swear sometimes he comes up with things just to get on my nerves. I have never even heard of his friend who is supposedly getting married.” Last year, he had told Chelsea he was going to Colombia to check in on his sister’s new baby. Chelsea hadn’t protested because even though he had just seen his niece a few months earlier, who was she to control how much he wanted to see his family, even if she was the one paying for it? Chelsea emailed his sister just to check on them and to say hi. His sister responded that she hadn’t seen Victor. He came back a few weeks later with a brand new nose. When she confronted him about it, he turned it around on her, accusing her of not trusting him and claiming that the new nose was for the two of them. It was a present he wanted to surprise her with. “Ohhh, I know Victor won’t be happy about me going away without him, but I’m so mad right now,” she sighed.
“Why? Because he’s going to Colombia without you again?” I asked. This was a rare occurrence. Chelsea usually kept her problems with Victor to herself.
“You know we’ve been together five years, and I’ve never once been on a vacation with my friends or even with him for that matter? He’s gone to Miami six times, Colombia four times, California once and Atlanta once, all without me, and now here he is going somewhere again without even asking my opinion about it,” she confessed, “And…” she paused. I could hear her deciding whether or not to tell me. “Oh, never mind. I just need to get away.”
“You did mention that,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
With all the years she had been with him, she normally didn’t speak about him like this. Besides the confession about his nose, there had only been one other time when she let slip any of his true nature.
We all sensed there was more going on than she led us to believe, and I had seen some of it with my own eyes, but Victor had tried so hard to get along with everyone and win their affection that most people couldn’t help but be swayed to thinking he might actually be a good guy. Plus, if Chelsea were going to say something bad about him, I would only hear it under the most unusual circumstances, like when she was alone. That was the hardest thing, to get her alone. He was usually listening in the other room, and she was in hard cold strong-armed denial.
After last Thanksgiving, I was the only one who started reverting back to my original opinion of Victor. Of course I wasn’t happy that I had been right about him.
“Have you guys really been together that long? Five years?” Hasn’t it been way longer?
“Yup. I’ve been with him since I was 20. God, that sounds so long ago. We’re getting so old.”
“Oh stop it. We’re still mid-twenties which is the new early twenties, you cum bag,” I needed to convince myself of this. No one was the age they really were anymore, right? Everyone was the “new” this or that give-or-take ten years.
“Oh, I read that article in Elle too. I don’t buy it though. All the hype. I’m 25 going on 40. See what they have to say about that. But the hell with it, whatever makes women feel better, right? So, tell me about Vegas. Let’s go there. I need my superhero sexy biatch super-hot partner in crime back,” she said through her giggling. I could hear a faint hint of the young girl from Piccadilly Road who lived across the street from me. Maybe I could get my best friend back after all.
But, there was a lot that needed to take place before that could authentically happen.
In terms of the trip, that was that. Over the next few days, Chelsea booked her flight to California, my uncle confirmed that we could stay with him for a couple of days, and we started to plan our much-needed, girls-only road trip to Las Vegas, Nevada.
Whatever was going to take place on that road trip - it had to end with bags under our eyes, a cough in our throats and a lightness in our souls.
Friday, April 11th, 2008
Guy,
I think you must be almost finishing up, if I have it correctly. I’m impatient and I know it’s only been five days, but I can’t stop thinking about how you’re doing. I feel like a worried old granny.
It’s Friday morning here, and I’m just getting ready for work. I have not been sleeping well lately, and I had this awful African nightmare the other night that wouldn’t let me go back to sleep. Don’t think I’m weird - but your head was massive, and the further up you climbed, the larger it got. I was silently screaming to you to slow down because I didn’t want your head to explode. I’m laughing now, but it seemed so dramatic at the time.
I can’t wait to hear from you. Hope it’s going well. That’s an understatement; I really, really hope you are having the best time ever. Please don’t get hurt.
I worked out Wednesday and literally almost fainted on the trainer. Apparently, Miles told Chelsea that he walked up the stairs and had to hold onto the railing because he was out of breath. We are all pathetic compared to you.
I missed Monday’s session at the gym again, but believe me, the trainer made it up to me on Wednesday. I can’t walk.
Let me know all’s well as soon as you can, and I promise not to irritate you with any more distraught emails.
TTFN!
Xoxo, Del
Saturday, 12 April, 2008
Morning, morning, my LA beauty!
What a nightmare that was! I have had some pretty severe headaches since the climb, so maybe your dreams were picking up on that? Spooky! I’m here now!
I managed to conquer the 5,895m peak of pain! Obviously it wasn’t
without its problems. The weather up there was horrendous. For the final night’s climb we set off at midnight with a foot of snow already fallen in a normally dry area. Six hours later we were at the top of the mountain, about 200 metres from the peak, when my guide said it was too dangerous to continue; he said he hadn’t seen snow like this for over ten years.
I wasn’t having that since I’d spent 18 hours getting to that point. He mumbled something and realised I wasn’t joking, so we continued. I can be quite stubborn.
The snow was knee high at the top, and over the next one and a half hours it got to waist high. It took 90 minutes to do 200 metres. Madness. It was an awesome feeling touching the peak sign and I could have cried, as it had been that tough.
Definitely the hardest thing I have ever had to do (other than saying goodbye to you in Vegas). Hard to believe it’s all done now, but I got some decent snaps that I’ll send in the next day or so. Well done me - the only human in the entire world to climb that day. How cool (thus making it uncool by using the word cool). Got a certificate too, which was a bit pre-school.
Glad to see you are well, and to answer your questions, I had no special training and I still have no idea where that bus went! Nice to know you were thinking of me. Getting your emails definitely made it all worth it. And look at you, all distraught that I wasn’t answering! You know I’ll write when I can.
Thought about you plenty these last few days; thinking about your pretty face really helped when the tough got going (as most of the others did, in fact, get going). Sorted your Chicago flight yet? Really want to see you; if you make it down to Chi-town I’ll defo come to LA to see you too.
Was in my hut last night, knackered, but it was too early to sleep so I played cards and I must admit I kicked your ass at blackjack. Admittedly, you weren’t there, but I played me versus you with me making all the decisions and I whipped you!
Got back about four hours ago to the hotel in Tanzania and had one of the most amazing showers of my life. Alright, the shower was average, but when you haven’t washed in five days it’s bliss!
Have to catch another one of those buses back to Nairobi tomorrow morning at 6a.m., so looking forward to that…Not!
Let’s hope Gasper isn’t driving. Tomorrow starts the 56-day trek of Africa (not walking, obviously. Another tour, but hopefully minus Gasper this time). Maasai Mara in Kenya first, then Uganda where we’ll be trekking to find gorillas in Bwindi National Park! Met the group earlier and there’s an assistant from LA (small world), and a couple in their fifties who say I look like Paul McCartney – don’t get that somehow…but they’re American. What do they know?! Just taking the piss - they’re not all bad.
Couldn’t get a phone card today as they’d run out, but should be able to purchase one tomorrow before we set off. Be nice to hear your dulcet tones. Supposed to be a nine-hour bus journey from Tanzania, that will be nice. Gone are the days of a leather seated, air conditioned Audi TT (the car I used to have – boy was it a nice car). Now, I ride in the Sweatbox, aka a Toyota TC (tin can).
Hope the tax return is a decent one, I’ll have a t-shirt thanks! Know what you mean about the booze, that’s why I’m glad I’m here, as it’ll stop me boozing for two months at least.
A lizard just climbed up on the computer screen making me shit myself.
Great to get back and have an email waiting, love chatting to you, will try to ring soon too once I’m sorted and on this safari.
Oh, by the way, it’s a white lizard and is quite horrible and is freaking me out. Your questions, and good ones they are:
1. My future? Honestly don’t know, hence why I’m travelling I guess. I want to be comfortable, and to be happy with somebody. I know that somebody will be a very special person. I know life is what you make of it and that to be satisfied with life you have to be satisfied with who you are as an individual, and I am glad to say that I am. I absolutely want to have a child, and be near the ocean. I grew up on the water in Portsmouth, and can’t imagine not being near it. Other than that, as long as I’m healthy, that’s all one can ask for.
2. Morals. Never cheated, never will. I would never deliberately do anything that would negatively affect somebody else. I believe in helping others who are less fortunate than you. I believe in honesty.
3. Pet peeves, easy peasy. Arrogance and deliberate ignorance. No one person is better than another. Their skills might be better at a given task but as individuals we all breathe the same air, we all have our own individual talents we excel at and should be applauded for. To be dismissive of another person is just downright rude.
Wow this is heavy shit. TTFN? (Tut ta for now?? Are you becoming all British on me now? Trying to learn the British slang for me? Only joking!)
Now, for you.
1. If you could change one thing from your past what would it be? - I wish I had been more motivated as a kid, and maybe even believed in myself a little more. Sports wise and school wise I was above average, but could maybe have done a lot better. I didn’t realise how good I could have been until it was too late. Also, I probably didn’t seize the day as much as I could have. Travelling has certainly taught me that. Carpe Diem.
2. Favourite flavour milkshake? – Vanilla, definitely
3. Favourite quote? - Plenty of philosophical quotes but I love a football one from United’s boss when winning the treble (I’ll bore you with the explanation another time). He said “Football… bloody hell.”
Keep smiling gorgeous,
Guy xx
NO BOYS ALLOWED
Sam called the home phone to say she was outside. I should have known she would be early since she had never been late to anything for the entire ten years I’ve known her. I don’t know why she even bothered showing up on time for me, as I have never been on time for anything revolving around social obligations in my life. Work is another story.
I wasn’t ready so I scrambled to get myself together.
I had promised my boss, Tess, that I would come to work for her for a few hours this morning (even though it’s a Sunday), in order to set up for the charity event we were throwing on Monday, and of course, there was much more to set up than she had let on.
The flowers hadn’t been ordered yet, the gifts hadn’t been stuffed in their goody bags, Tess hadn’t bought her dress or shoes yet and the twins needed a haircut. Plus, the special guest speaker had dropped out and we needed to book a replacement fast. Luckily, at the last possible second that I could have remained at Tess’s house, Jessica Honey Hoover, the starlet who had recently gained a bit of weight but pronounced to the world that she was comfortable in her body, agreed to speak out on women’s issues. She was perfect for it. Tess’s shoes and dress were ordered online from her favorite designer and she was to pick it up first thing in the morning. We decided the twins’ haircut could wait until after the charity event, and I stuffed those goody bags. I’d called my trusty flower shop, the French woman had complained and said it would be impossible, but at the last second agreed to do it at an astronomical rate. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
I had dashed home, cheeks pink with my triumph, when Sam called from her car. There was a guy going to Amin’s beach party that Sam guaranteed was my type, and she had specifically suggested that I look good. I hadn’t realized that I had a type.
I had no interest in pretending that I was ready to look for someone. Two weeks had passed since “the night”, and I was thinking less and less about my ex. I was actually surprised at how little he crept into my thoughts. However, the idea of getting involved with another man, learning his life story, telling my life story, feigning laughter and pretending I wanted to do anything besides act, hang out with my girls or eat food that wasn’t fish or vegetarian, made me feel annoyed. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel once I was ready, but I was pretty sure that annoyed wasn’t the way to go.
I shot off a quick text to Sam, letting her know I’d be right out, holding the phone in the specific position in the doorway that
would pick up enough reception to send it. My hair was still a bit frazzled from the bleach job it had endured last week, so I decided that perhaps wind-blown would be less damaging. I grabbed a pen, my two necklaces, my large purse and a tube of lipstick and rushed out the door.
There she was, seated in her Camry, double-parked on my road with a book in her lap (some strong, independent woman’s autobiography or a self-help book, I presumed), chewing her long, red hair. She looked up as I jumped in beside her, appearing as serene as ever. With a big smile, she threw her bookmark in the page, tossed it onto the backseat and opened her arms. We hugged as we always did when we hadn’t seen each other for longer than a few days, and off we went to the bonfire.
“How are you feeling as a blonde?” she said after fifteen minutes or so. She rarely talked while she was driving on the side streets, but since we were on the freeway now, she felt more comfortable to speak. “Oh, wait. Don’t answer yet. I have to get in the next lane.”
I waited as she turned on her blinker, waited for the gap to increase and carefully maneuvered to the next lane. “OK, I’m ready.”
“Strangely bright,” I said. I dyed it the week before for a role and everywhere I went, I felt like people were staring at me. “I realize now why people say that men prefer blondes. Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah?” she asked. Her eyes remained focused on the road in front of her. I noticed the car next to her trying to move over as well, but I ignored it knowing that it would only distract her further and cause her unneeded stress.
“Can we please not go to this?” I asked. I knew we were already on our way, but I felt less and less interested in going.
“You really don’t want to go, huh?” she asked, and actually took her eyes off the road to look at me.
“No, I really, really have no interest.”
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