“Best Friends”

I tried it at so many angles, in so many lights. I tried it on different surfaces: the coffee table, the center of the dining room table, the top of the break front, the curio cabinet. Nope. I sighed deeply. This gift was given to me by my best friend Kathy, not just a B.F.F, as the lingo goes, but a true best friend, one who has stuck by me through thick and thin, and who’d continue to do so in the future, I had no doubt. But the gift she gave me! It was... well, frankly, I hated it. I couldn’t display it in my home, I just couldn’t. It threw me off- balance, somehow. Not physically, but emotionally. The thing made me just a little sad. Yet I couldn’t tell Kathy I didn’t like her gift. It just wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

And yet, why did I have such a reaction? It seemed overly dramatic to me. After all, we were only talking about a vase, here. A very orange, very ugly vase.

I could use a vase, actually. How many times have I been embarrassed by someone coming over for a special occasion, Mother’s Day, Easter, my birthday as examples, bearing a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and I had to scramble to find a place to put them. Kathy’s gift would solve that problem, but...

I had to postpone my musings to answer a knock at the door. It was the UPS man.

“You have to sign for this package, ma’am,” he said. I obliged, although I had no idea for what I was signing. I do order quite a bit online, but almost always avoid buying anything you had to sign for. I opened it as quickly as the packaging allowed. Inside we’re two bottles of Pinot Grigio.

Was this some sort of a bad joke? I hadn’t ordered any wine since I found myself on the bathroom floor one day, heaving from all the alcohol I had drunk. The day I realized that I didn’t just occasionally overindulge; I was an alcoholic, pure and simple. All my friends left me when they found out, as if I were some kind of pariah. Everyone but Kathy. Kathy stayed by me, cleaned me up, offered words of encouragement when I was at my lowest point, talked to me about A.A, made me feel human again. Just like she did when that horrible crash occurred a little over two years ago. Kathy was driving then, but the accident wasn’t her fault. A drunk had cut her off. My daughter Maggie was badly injured. We rushed her to the hospital, and I held her tiny hand while I quietly spoke to her, and told my daughter how much I adored her. I sang to her, read her her favorite bedtime stories, begged her to stay alive. Despite it all, Maggie died hours later. My beautiful daughter, not only the love of my life but a part of myself, would never be in my arms again. That’s when I began to drink. And finally spiraled out of control on the bathroom floor.

Kathy would come with me to the A.A. meetings. She was, as I said, my best friend, and she also felt guilty about the accident, although I let her know in no uncertain terms that it absolutely wasn’t her fault. The meetings really did help. After many months of struggle, tears, missteps, and heartache, I was finally free from the alcohol monkey on my back. My life would never be the same without my Maggie, but I was able to cope again, and I had Kathy to thank for that.

I looked inside the package. In between the two bottles of wine was a card. ”For Linda from Eric,” it read. “Enjoy!” My heart grew cold. Eric, my ex- husband. He never gave me anything before except grief. No, that wasn’t true. He was the one who made it possible for me to have my beautiful daughter. My Maggie. Yet he blamed me when she died, as unfair and illogical as that was. He blamed me because he never did like Kathy. Way before that horrible accident occurred, he said we were “too close,” whatever that meant, and wanted me to end the friendship.

“She’s a real bitch, Linda,”he said to me more than once. “Kathy hates me because of my politics, my looks, who knows why else, but I know she makes you happy. You pay more attention to her than you ever did to me. I’m the boss around here, Linda, and don’t you forget it. I’m giving you an ultimatum: end it with her!”

To Eric’s surprise, I flat out refused, so he filed for divorce. I could still see his stupid, sneering face when he came to the hospital the day Maggie was killed .He pushed me, hard, and I landed on my rear end.Security had to take him away. They asked me if I wanted to press charges, but I refused to do so. I just never wanted to see the bastard again.

But I do see him in my dreams at times. Nightmares, I should say. He must have found out that I’ve been sober now for one year, and sent me those bottles of wine to taunt me. I’ ll probably have a nightmare about him tonight . I’ll see his furious face, his hateful stance, his orange sweatshirt.

Orange. The same color as the vase. I didn’t hate the vase after all. I hated Eric with all my heart and soul.

I smashed the bottles of wine, and watched as the poisonous liquid poured down the sink. I carefully gathered the shards and threw them into the bin, along with the nasty note. Then I took the vase, and filled it with flowers from my garden.

I made a phone call. “Kathy, it’s Linda. I know it’s short notice, but could you come over today? You can? Good. No, nothing‘s wrong. Actually, I’m in a really good mood. I picked some flowers from the garden, and put them in the vase you gave me. It sets the flowers off just beautifully. Can’t wait for you to see it.”