The Flip Side

             If there was ever a day I’d like to start over, it was this one. My plan had been simple enough. I was going to shop, have lunch at Café Roma, and then end it curled up in my favorite chair with a book that I planned to purchase at the little bookstore on the corner of Summer and Register. I should’ve stayed home. But I’d planned for this day for weeks. My apartment was clean, I’d gone to the grocery store and stocked up on popcorn and a variety of teas, and the forecast predicted rain. A good, old-fashioned thunderstorm. My favorite thing in the world is being home alone, reading a good book. In the rain, with no distractions. And today was my extra day off to get some Christmas shopping done and to pick up the book I’d been waiting to hit the shelves.

             Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I should’ve known. It was too perfect. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so eager to plan the day out. Maybe if I hadn’t, unseen forces wouldn’t have intervened and messed it up. But we can’t trick God. He knew before I was ever born that this day would come. He was just biding his time, waiting patiently for the right time…to destroy my soul.

             Why He chose me as His target is beyond my comprehension. I don’t recall doing anything so detrimental to anyone else to deserve such a slap in the face. I’ve always thought I’d struggled enough in life and deserved the good life I have. Yes, I still have my good life, it hasn’t been taken from me. But everything I thought I was, I’m not. Everything I thought I had, isn’t mine. Maybe I should start at the beginning of this perfect-turned-horrible day.

             I stepped off the curb and made my way through the parking lot to my car, clutching two oversized shopping bags in each hand. I had just scored huge in the string of shops on Main Street, drawing a line through several names on my mental Christmas list. After taking a quick but careful look around me for any potential muggers, I slipped my fingers under the handle of the tailgate and released the lock on my Lincoln Nautilus. Bags safely stored in the back, I settled myself into the comfort of the driver’s seat and waited for the heat to warm my body. With every possible feature at my fingertips, it’s the epitome of perfection. I take my phone from my pocket, quickly checking to be sure I’d replaced my credit card in the little hidden pocket of the case. No need for a cumbersome purse today, I had bags to carry. The pangs of hunger in my stomach told me it was time for lunch, and the time confirmed that it was time to meet Stella. My taste buds anticipated the warm, buttery flavor of the garlic chicken pasta in my near future. 

             My best friend called to me from a booth by the big window as I stepped through the door. With a smile, I hurried over, eyeing the steaming cup of tea a waitress was placing on the table. Stella is thoughtful like that, always thinking of everyone else. And to prove it, the waitress returned almost immediately with the lunch she'd already ordered. As usual, we talked and laughed while we ate, then shared a generous serving of cheesecake for dessert. And that’s when it happened. As I stirred sugar into a fresh cup of cinnamon tea, I glanced up just as a woman passing by the window decided to look my way. It’s not unusual to make eye contact with strangers on the street. Typically, I just nod and continue on my way, minding my own business, just like everyone else. Except this time.

             There was something familiar about her eyes. The hood of her thin jacket covered most of her hair, but the little that poked out was brown. Not shiny and healthy, but drab and lifeless like it needed a good washing and maybe some color. Not that it was any of my business, just an observation. Her cheeks were sunken, like she’d lost a lot of weight too quickly. She appeared aged, but somehow, I knew she couldn’t be any older than me.

             “What makes a person do than to themselves?” I wondered out loud.

             “Do what?” Stella asked, following my gaze.

             “Let themselves go like that. Drugs, I’m sure. You can just tell, you know?”

             “Yeah, I guess, but you never know what pushes someone over the edge, Jen.”

             “I know, I know. But I have a hard time understanding how some people can’t afford to pay their bills, but they always seem to have money for cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs.” Looking back, I should’ve realized my comment made Stella uncomfortable. She probably would’ve told me so, but she glanced up when the bell above the door jingled. And if I was more observant, I’d have noticed the change in her demeanor. Because I wasn’t prepared.

             “Jennifer? Is that you?” I didn’t recognize the raspy voice, but when I turned toward it, I realized it was the woman from the other side of the window. Seeing her standing there was more of a surprise than her knowing my name. Lots of people know my name.

             “Can I help you?” I asked, somewhat taken aback. Normally, I’m not what most people would call approachable. Not that I’m rude or anything, just very private.

             “You look exactly the same,” she said, a little nervously, with a hint of…shame? “You probably don’t remember, but it’s me. Trisha.” And with that one word, my day was ruined.

             When she offered a half-hearted smile, I cringed on the inside as I noticed a couple of gaps where teeth used to be. The woman standing at the table between Stella and me waited for a response, but I had none to give her. What could I possibly say to this woman? I only wanted her to move away from our table and let us be. Maybe the manager would notice her, then walk over and quietly ask her to leave. Should I slip her a twenty and kindly say, “I’m sorry, you must be mistaken?” No, I couldn’t do that. Not in front of Stella. This wouldn’t end well no matter what I did, Stella would never look at me the same.

             Finally, defeated, I sighed. Then, mustering a weak smile I said, “Trisha, Hi. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Great. I’d screwed up already. I’d hear it from Stella later. “Um, this is my friend Stella. Stella, this is Trisha, my…” I let the statement trail off, not knowing what exactly she was to me anymore.

             Trisha graciously saved me from myself. Just like she’d done a thousand times before. Before. When life had been so simple. “We went to high school together, used to hang out some,” she said. And I could hear, feel the sadness screaming in her softly spoken words.

             We hadn’t just hung out some in school. We’d spent nearly every moment together. Nearly everything from summer vacations and cheer camps to youth groups and proms had been spent with Trisha. Best friends didn’t describe our relationship. We couldn’t have been closer if we’d been biological sisters. What happened to her? “No,” I blurted, surprising even myself. “That’s not right and you know it.” I reached out and took her hand, pulling her onto the seat beside me. “Trisha was my best friend. We were inseparable.” I paused, unsure how to proceed. “Until she moved away.”

             I felt Trisha squeeze my hand, and once again she saved me. “We kept in touch for a while, but distance, and…life happened.”

             Stella held out her hand to Trisha and said truthfully, “It’s so nice to meet you. Any friend of Jen’s is a friend of mine.” Then in true Stella style, she offered to excuse herself so the two of us could catch up. Trisha declined her offer and insisted she stay, not wanting to ruin our lunch date.

             Speaking to both of us, she began, “Long story short, I went away to college, met who I thought was Prince Charming and ended up pregnant.” She glanced at me quickly, didn’t miss the flash of shock on my face. But I didn’t interrupt, sensing she needed to say this. “His parents pretty much forced him to do the proper thing and marry me. Then in my sixth month of pregnancy I was in a car accident. I lost the baby, a girl.” She paused and reached for a napkin which she pressed under her nose. Stella sat quietly with a hand over her mouth while I just held Trisha’s hand, at a loss for what to do or say.

             “I ended up having four different surgeries to repair a crushed pelvis and broken femur. It didn’t take long to find out the pain medication could dull more than physical pain. I didn’t know how to cope, Jen. Mark, the baby’s father, was no help. He never wanted to marry me anyway, so he certainly didn’t notice or care what I did. He didn’t do much more than deliver me to appointments with surgeons and physical therapy. After a while I discovered that alcohol boosted the effects of the pain meds, and all of a sudden, I was an alcoholic addicted to pain pills. I didn’t even want to stop. Mark didn’t care, he never even cried about losing the baby. Even grieving myself to death would’ve been better than living with his relief at my loss.” Trisha shuddered and paused to take a sip of the hot tea that had been placed before her. “I lived like that for years, barely existing. Eventually Mark left. I don’t know why he stayed as long as he did. Anyway, I called my parents and came clean about everything, then checked myself into rehab. I’ve been clean and sober for over a year now, and I decided to move back here two months ago.”

             I didn’t bother to swipe at the tears streaming down my face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

             “Jen I couldn’t. I was embarrassed, ashamed. Look at you. Successful, still beautiful. I couldn’t let you know how bad it was. We had such high hopes back then.”

Trisha had left shortly after with a promise to call after the interview she didn’t want to be late for. I had turned to Stella with a look of despair. “I’m such an idiot. What have I turned into?” I looked down at my designer clothes, wiggled my feet in my designer shoes, and reached for my designer purse. The whole time I’d thought I was planting my own roots I’d been drifting away.

             “The question isn’t what you’ve turned into, Jen, it’s what have you've turned away from?”

             Then she and I had a long talk over yet another cup of tea. By the time I reached the bottom of my cup, I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t worry about Trisha any longer.

So, I won’t be reading my new book tonight. My day has been ruined. How can I sit here enjoying a Cap Daniels novel while the best friend I’ve ever had just admitted she’d been living in Hell all these years? If only I’d waited until tomorrow to go shopping. I wouldn’t be sitting here making another list of gifts I needed to buy. Gifts that would show my family and friends how much I care for them and how well I pay attention. Gifts to replace the ridiculously overpriced ones that Stella and I had wrapped and placed in a chair in my guest room.

Now, I sit here wishing I could start the day over. But not for the reason you may think. I’d like to start the day over with a different state of mind. Today started out all about me. But God had a different plan. He knew better than me what’s best for me. Sadly, it took the heartache of an old friend to remind me who I really am, and what’s really important in this life.

When the doorbell rings, I smile. I can still do something with this day. Stella practically skips to the door and welcomes my new guest inside. Now both of my best friends are here. I take Trisha’s bag and show her to her new room. We have a lot of catching up to do, and a lot of mending needs to be done in both our lives. We'll do it. Together. And this is the end of this horrible-turned-perfect day.