Don't You Forget About Me

Her voluptuous hips swiveled feverishly, no regard for the tightly-packed bodies gyrating alongside her on the strobe-lit dancefloor. Eyes closed and paired with a devilish smile, she flipped her magnificent blonde mane back and swayed provocatively to the throbbing bass line of New Order’s Blue Monday. I hadn’t even noticed she’d been holding a shot glass the entire time, and in one graceful movement she downed it, parted her ruby lips, and sang, “I still find it so hard, to say what I need to say.”

In another lifetime she could have been a Siren wrecking unsuspecting ships. In this lifetime she was my friend, and she was just about wreck our friendship.

She leaned in close and yelled into my ear “I kissed Tommy. I’m so sorry.”

I stopped dancing and stared incredulously at her. I had suspicions that my handsome-yet-emotionally-stunted ex-boyfriend Tommy had been flirting with my gorgeous-yet commitment-phobic best friend after our messy breakup. But a kiss? Foul play.

“WHAT! I could KILL YOU Jade! Who the hell do you think you are!?”

She anxiously flipped her hair behind her, revealing her oversized silver owl earring with sparkling emerald eyes. Jade had a thing for owls. “Owls and I have something in common. We’re both able to see beyond the illusions in the world,” she cryptically explained to me once.

 “Did you kiss him first?!”

She didn’t say yes. But she also didn’t say no. She only shrugged and smiled sheepishly. That captivating smile seemed to get her out of – and sometimes into – all sorts of trouble. A typical Jade response to life’s complications. Her playful reaction to my serious question sent me reeling. I was seething with rage. I wanted to throw my clenched fist into her stupid forgivable face.

I elbowed my way through the throngs of flailing torsos, desperate to get away from the words I’d just heard.

As I dramatically yanked open the thick bathroom door, I nearly slammed it into a couple of mohawked punk girls leaning against the wall. I stumbled in, turned the lock, and exhaled. The three Pabst Blue Ribbon Tallboys and two Jaeger shots had hijacked my boiling bloodstream, and now my best friend had hijacked my trust. I rested my perspiring forehead against the cool steel of the vibrating door. Billy Idol started howling.

“In the midnight hour

She cried more, more, more!

With a rebel yell

More, more, more!”

It was 80’s Night at The Model Cafe – a dimly-lit gritty dive bar whose iconic red neon sign, for decades, served as the silent clarion call to all social misfits, shades of blue collars, and scores of down and outs who needed a dark hole to hide, confide, or reside in. Jade and I had been established regulars at The Model for years. All the bartenders were friends and we playfully flirted with the door guys, Tony and Jimbo. Tonight, the place was crammed with college kids, middle aged punks, metalheads and hipsters.

I sat myself on the cracked toilet seat with my head in my hands, swearing at the wet floor. Several minutes passed before a fist battered the door urgently. One of the few downsides of The Model (some would argue part of its charm) was that it only had one bathroom with one toilet. When cokeheads needed a line, or a gaggle of girls needed to gossip, or the heat of the moment captured two lovebirds, you could forget about using the bathroom for its intended purpose. Patrons had no choice but to run outside behind the bar and piss between the garbage dumpsters. I contemplated slinking through the crowd and exiting The Model undetected by Jade. My thoughts had spiraled, and I was growing more paranoid by the minute imagining Tommy and Jade’s whirlwind romance blossoming behind my back.

I yelled a few more curse words at the unresponsive bathroom floor, stood up, and glanced behind the toilet to check if I’d dropped anything. I never paid much attention to the writing on the bathroom walls because they were constantly being updated and I was usually too drunk to read them, anyway. But this was impossible to miss. The wall just above the toilet had been swiped with white paint. Within the swath was beautiful black cursive writing:

"The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper." W.B. Yeats

"Yeah, right." I muttered as I rolled my eyes.

“PEARL! Open up, ya clam! Did you pull a Mario and dip into the sewage system or what?!”

It was Jade. I fumed. My brain hadn’t fully processed how to deal with the cards she’d dealt me. I spun around and violently pushed open the door with such force that a big fat screw fell from the top hinge and landed between us. We looked at each other aghast, and then our eyes lit up with unbridled delight. We both knew what we had to do.

She grabbed my shoulders and joyously shouted, “SCREWS FALL OUT ALL THE TIME...” to which I excitedly finished, “…THE WORLD’S AN IMPERFECT PLACE!” We burst into uncontrollable laughter.

It was one of our favorite quotes from The Breakfast Club. I was so impressed by the screw’s cameo appearance during 80’s Night that I briefly suspended my contempt towards Jade.

“I’m so insanely sorry!” she shouted. “It didn’t mean a goddamn thing, Pearl! I swear! It was one time! It wasn’t even good! Terrible kisser, kept licking my teeth!”

I couldn’t hold back a smile. Tommy was, indeed, a teeth licker.

“You absolute bitch. Let’s talk about it over brunch and mimosas tomorrow.”

“Deal!”

We hugged and then she leaned over the DJ booth and yelled, “Frankie my dear, play Girls Just Wanna Have Fun! LADIES, LET ME SEE YOU MOVE!” I twirled, shimmied, and sweat my emotions out onto the dancefloor with Jade until the bell clanged for last call.

___________________________

As The Model’s sauced up clientele spilled out onto North Beacon St., Jade and I walked down the adjacent street to the bar and ordered an Uber away from the crowds.

“Pearl, Tommy doesn’t know…. he doesn’t know...” She was slurring her words.

“He doesn’t know a lot of things. Tell me something I don’t know, Jade.”

She giggled. “He doesn’t know what a gem you are!”

“It’s true, he really doesn’t! Ya know why? Because I’m a pearl! And a pearl is just an irritant covered in mollusk SECRETION!”

Jade let out belly laugh and plonked herself on the gentle grassy slope of someone’s front yard. Her hair fanned out behind her, and I noticed one of her owl earrings was missing.

“Hey, one of your ear owls flew away,” I said as I pulled her up from the ground.

She smiled unconcernedly. “Pity! But he must have flown away for a reason. Do you know how jade is made?” She extended her arm and swung it slowly as she looked out into the distance and whispered, “Metamorphosis.”

“I believe you mean to say ‘metamorphism,’ but who even knows the difference between metamorphosis and metamorphism. Except me. And geologists. And biologists. We know. But who cares about us? Bunch of nerds.” I laughed as Jade playfully poked me.

“I prefer saying metamorphosis. Sounds more poetic,” she reasoned.

A black Toyota Corolla crawled down the street and I checked the app to verify the license plate and driver, Scott. We crawled into the backseat and the stink of cheap vodka with notes of ocean breeze air freshener crept into my nostrils. I jokingly asked Scott, “Hey man, did you get drunk at The Model tonight, too?” The young man looked at me in the rear-view mirror and spoke very quickly.

“No, no, the passengers just before you were Russian. They spilled their vodka all over the car and I haven’t had time to clean it up yet. Only thing I could do was spray air freshener. I sincerely apologize. We can keep the windows open. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Jade piped up. “It is a beautiful night, and we will accept this Uber booze cruise on one condition: You shall me use that cord so we can listen to my tunes.”

Scott turned and eagerly handed Jade the aux cord, his hands shaking slightly. I thought I smelled vodka on his breath, but I didn’t feel mentally capable to get into a confrontation. He’d already told us what had happened, and his explanation was perfectly believable – there were plenty of Russians in the neighborhood. Jade was already scrolling madly through her playlists.

“Pearl, it’s so wild about that door screw. I still can’t get over that. We should watch The Breakfast Club when we get back to the apartment. Do we still have some Red Stripes in the fridge?”

“Yep, four left.”

“Perfect! And speaking of The Breakfast Club, found the soundtrack - turn it up, Scott!”

Don’t You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds exploded through the speakers and Jade and I sang in unison.

“Won’t you come see about me?

I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby”

And that was the last time I ever saw Jade.

___________________________

When I gained consciousness, I awoke to the most horrible hangover of my life. My right arm was cemented across my stomach. I couldn’t move my head and my chest felt stabbing fiery pain with every inhalation. I opened my eyes and quickly concluded this wasn’t a hangover. Tubes and needles had burrowed into my flesh and machines beeped softly. I felt someone clasp my left hand. It was my mother, and she was dabbing her reddened eyes with a tissue.

“Mom…. what happened?” I eked out.

Scott had been drunk. He wrapped the Corolla around a tree while speeding down Commonwealth Ave and died on impact. I had broken my arm, three ribs, and fractured my neck. “It’s a miracle you’re alive, baby.” One of my mother’s tears splashed between my eyes as she carefully leaned over to kiss my bruised forehead.

“And Jade? How is she?” I whispered.

She exhaled deeply. “Jade sustained a massive brain injury and died this morning at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital.”

My mother began sobbing and squeezed my hand. I stared up at the ceiling and my vision blurred as tears streamed into my neck brace. It was as if an anvil had been dropped on my broken body.

Jade can’t be gone. My best friend since childhood can’t be “gone.” I knew the guy had been drinking but I ignored my gut. I’m responsible for all of this. Jade can’t be dead. This can’t be real. I’ll wake up from this, right?…she can’t be gone, she can’t ….

__________________________

I was still hospitalized when they held Jade’s funeral. I asked the doctors for extra meds, because to stay conscious that day, knowing what it meant, would hurt more than any of my physical afflictions.

After being released from the hospital, I returned to the apartment I shared with Jade, and I barely left it for 3 weeks. Time drifted on without me as I filled the endless hours with weeping fits and marathon sleeping sessions aided by powerful sleeping pills. Sometimes I sobbed myself to sleep in her bed, curled up with her stuffed animals. Family and friends often came by for moral support and brought casseroles and baked dishes, and while appreciative of their kindness, I didn’t feel I deserved it. I was consumed with grief and racked with immense guilt. It was my fault she died. I ignored my instincts. I could barely think straight most days. I sometimes thought I saw her breeze through the hallway or dancing in the kitchen and for that split second, I genuinely believed she was there. But I knew they were hallucinations, the cruel apparitions of a troubled mind and broken heart.

I awoke one August morning feeling oddly refreshed, as if I’d slept a thousand years. I hadn’t felt so lucid in months, and it was a beautiful sunny day. I made myself a coffee and launched Spotify on my speaker, randomly choosing a Daily Mix playlist. I sat outside on the back porch and bathed in sunlight while listening to music. I closed my eyes and suddenly heard something crash through the trees in the back of the yard. Thinking perhaps baby squirrels fell out of their nest, I went to investigate. I looked up and saw a great horned owl peering down at me with brilliant yellow eyes. I had never seen one during the day before, and we stared at each other for several long seconds while it cocked its head and hooted at me.

“What are you doing there, owl? I thought you liked to hang out in dark places?”

I turned back towards the porch to grab my phone to take a photo, when I heard something hit the ground with a soft thud. When I walked back to the tree, I froze. It was one of Jade’s owl earrings that had gone missing the night of the accident.

The owl hooted with excitement as I slowly picked the earring up and stared at it in absolute disbelief. It was nothing short of magic. I returned my sights to the owl, who vigorously bobbed its head up and down. It danced happily along the branch and hooted at me several times before it flew away.

My knees weak and barely able to take a breath, I clumsily ran back to the porch to call my mom. Simple Minds erupted through the speaker.

“Don’t you forget about me

I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby"

I suddenly felt her unmistakable love radiate through the soft marrow of my tired bones. She was so very alive in me.

I clutched the owl earring and realized she hadn’t been wrong after all. She had gone through her metamorphosis. And for the first time since Jade left this world for another, my tears were filled with joy.