Bitter

Maybe it was time to admit that my father was right, had always been right, about me. I was a terrible judge of character. I was a doormat that let people waltz in and out of my life, trampling me in the process. Yet I still welcomed their presence, making excuses for them even as they wiped crap all over me. I was lucky that none of them cared enough to stay. We all knew I couldn’t let go.

I sighed and sank deeper into my seat, the rough upholstery chafing against my skin. I spooned another mouthful of ice cream into my mouth, welcoming the cold as I watched teenagers go by, all laughing with their friends.

Maybe they were the lucky ones. A few years ago, that would have been me and my proclaimed “best friend” traipsing into the bubble tea shop, savoring the moment of freedom after a long semester at the nearby high school. I had been thankful then. I was lucky to be in Kate’s company. Lucky to have a miniature mall a walk’s distance from my high school.

I was lucky to have Kate as my best friend. The term held so much weight in kindergarten, all the way to high school. I could never seem to keep my best friends though. Sarah in kindergarten preferred Mandy the next year. Rebecca in first grade, Calla in second, and Tess in fourth moved away after a year of befriending me. Hannah in third grade only talked to me because she wanted to take home my metallic colored pencils. I should have learned then, but I made the same mistake in sixth grade with Sally who constantly threatened to stop being my friend if I didn’t give her my things.

In middle school, I gave up on the idea of a best friend. After moving to a different school district myself, not a single friend or good friend could seem to reply to a text message. The new people I met didn’t seem to care either. They already had their groups and best friends. But then I met Kate. She had a mechanical pencil with a bunny on top. I couldn’t help but compliment her choice in stationery. It was a fast friendship from there.

My parents were happy that I had finally connected with someone. So happy that they let me hang out with her at the mini mall at the end of the school year.

I swallowed another spoonful of ice cream. The fruity flavor was sweet and sugary, tugging at the memories with Kate. It had always been like that. This was our place. We came here before every school break, after every round of tests, and for every little celebration we had.

Kate restored my faith in the term “best friend.” She was mine and I was hers. We ate together at lunch as many times a week as her clubs would allow. We shared our snacks and thoughts and ideas. We had inside jokes and could laugh about anything, be anyone around each other. We exchanged gifts every birthday, Christmas, and random day. 

I still had the stack of hand-made cards from her to prove it. Before, they were proudly displayed in my binders, on my walls. Now, they were shoved in a drawer somewhere in my room, proof that she had existed in my life at one point in time. Proof that she said she cared, that she loved me like a sister. 

Sometimes I wonder if she really meant any of it.

I hated the night that I had to accept the fact that maybe she wasn’t as good of a friend as I had initially believed. I hated that I had been wrong again. I hated that I couldn’t face the facts on my own.

My father had spelled it out for me.

Wherever you take your prom pictures and have dinner, you’ll all still end up at the prom. Why does she need us to drive you miles out of the way for pictures and food? She knows you can’t go with them. She knows the extra miles in the opposite direction will make it hard for any driver. Does the location really matter more than the company? 

Even then I had argued with him, defended her until he took me by the shoulders and spoke the truth plain and simple.

She cares more about where she is than who she’s with. She doesn’t care that you can’t be there, otherwise she wouldn’t push for this. She doesn’t care about you. She’s selfish, and it’s time you knew that.

The words had stung, frozen my heart and mind over like a brain freeze. I couldn’t bring myself to believe them until my father pressed on.

I thought you had learned after all the other “best friends”, honey. But clearly you didn’t. Think. Why was it that she only hung out with you when nobody else was available? Why was it that only had time for you when she was waiting on someone else? You weren’t her best friend. You were her back-up friend. If you could even call it that.

I hated that it was the truth. She only called when she needed something. Otherwise, she was too busy for me. Maybe we had been best friends once, but we had been pulling away slowly.

You need to learn to just let go. Don’t cry. She’s not worth your time or tears. Just let go and see what happens. If she really is your best friend, she’ll come back to you.

I stared at the next group of teenagers that went by and sighed. I went for another bite of ice cream and came back with just a spoonful of sweet soup. I let the liquid spill back into the cup, watching as it slipped right over the edge of the spoon.

When I took my father’s advice, I had been heartbroken. I had done it again. I fell for the lure of having someone my age to share life with, the lure of a best friend. Even after the realization, I still held my breath, hoping for Kate to cast a bone of attention to me. She never did. Each day I watched as she slipped right out of my life. 

The worst part was, I still reached out. When you were sad and needed to talk, you called your best friend. I called Kate. She brushed me off again. She didn’t have the time to talk. She wasn’t there when I needed her. It was only then that I knew my father was right. 

Kate had promised we would party at prom together. She had promised that we would ride the bus together for the school Disneyland trip. She had promised we would walk together at graduation. They were all simple enough, right? She didn’t. Not a single one of those. She chose not to, with hardly even a day’s notice.

When she didn’t even try to execute on the little promises like that, I knew she wouldn’t make good on the other ones. We didn’t celebrate graduation with another trip to the mini mall. We didn’t keep in touch after high school. 

She never came back. In fact, I’m not sure she even noticed that I stopped reaching out. She wasn’t my best friend anymore. 

I heard that she went to the college of her dreams with a boyfriend. Graduation was the last time I saw her, heard from her.

In a quick gulp, I downed the last of the ice cream. I didn’t spare the empty cup and the remaining sticky streaks another glance before chucking it into the trash. I licked my lips, finding the remnants of the ice cream bitter.

I had learned my lesson. I didn’t regret letting go. I just wished I had tossed Kate out of my life sooner.