Her Nauseatingly Cliche, Nostalgically Pop Classic, Ironically True...Life Drama

"I'm so excited I could literally scream!"

"Uh yeah, you kinda already are, actually."

"Sorry but, yeah, excited! Why are you so blah? This is gonna be so much fun! Stop rolling your eyes."

"Can't help myself. Fun? Look I understand you took too many hits to the head falling from pyramids... and behind the bleachers activities...but try and remember not all of us loved highschool huh?"

"Okay one, fuck you, had you spent a little more time behind them maybe you would have fonder memories. Two, maybe you're just afraid Jason Ferguson will pull your hair again and you'll like it this time around. Three, I don't know, stop being the 'everything sucks' emo kid, you're twenty-eight."

I rolled my eyes again and launched a girly, decorative pillow from the couch at my roommate Denise. To her credit, she smoothly caught it one handedly while flipping me off with the other. 

Her excitement, and my lack thereof, could be credited to the ten year reunion of the Jacksonville Honeybees...yay...

"I can't wait to show up looking even better than I did in highschool! Oh my God! Get up, we got shopping to do!"

"Please tell me you're joking, this is my only day off this week."

"Exactly, all the more reason we have to do it now! Need hair appointments too..."

"Yeah...no. My hairstyle comes in a nice little blue box, thank you, and I have no need as I won't be attending."

"WHAT?!?"

"Uh, uh. No, you're not gonna flip out and make a huge deal out of this, I mean it. You loved highschool, so go and have a great time. I did not so I won't. I mean come on, do you even still talk to anyone besides me?"

"Really? Janine and Kenisha are in my yoga class, Howard, Danny, Josh, Tina, and like four others come into the bar all the time. Several more are on Facebook."

"Of course, stupid question."

"What? You seriously don't talk to any of them?"

"Just you. Some days, like today for instance, even that's pushing it." I grinned to emphasize the joke as I stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh like I'm crazy enough to believe I'm getting out of a shopping trip."

Denise and I really are the last two you'd ever expect to be lifelong friends but our moms were, still are, and we've been close since birth, basically. Nevermind that she's your stereotypical cheerleader by all outward appearances and by the those same standards I really am the 'emo kid' as she earlier joked. She has long, bouncy, blonde curls, always perfectly styled. I have home-cut, electric blue, barely hanging lower than my chin, wavy wildness. She's into fitness classes and would never dream of getting a tattoo, I couldn't run if my life depended on it and proudly have twelve. Oddly enough she's a bartender while I work in a cubicle... granted I test and design video games, but still. 

She went to college right after highschool whereas I got married, got a job, and took a few IT classes. She realized she hated college life, I realized my marriage was a huge mistake, and after one very intoxicated, confession filled, reunion by the pool at her mom's one night three years ago, we started making the changes that would lead us to where we are now as roommates. We give each other hell all the time but she's honestly my only real friend. We have a sisterly bond, and whereas I might give her shit, best believe I have before and would gladly again punch anyone else in the face over her. Don't let the appearance fool you though, she's more than capable of taking care of herself. Once, in our junior year...

"Jace? Earth to Jace!"

I snapped out of my little trip down memory lane and smiled to show I'd checked back in. Hands on her hips, exasperated expression on her face, wearing what had to be at least the 16th outfit, she was a comical sight... smirking earned me a nasty look and lecture on the seriousness of the situation.

"Ok, ok, sorry! In my defense I was reminiscing about us!"

"Awww, I love you too...BUT BE SWEET LATER DAMN IT!!"

"Geeze, alright! You're just testing me now though cause you hate how you look in pantsuits."

"I know, but I reeeaaaaaallyy want to love it! They're such powerful, independent, mature statement outfits! Blah, I hate when you're right, but this does look hideous..."

"For the love of God woman pick some cute jeans and a flirty blouse, or a badass dress, or skirt and blouse...we both know how this ends and I get back to our beautiful couch, snacking and being ridiculously lazy, in front of our big screen that I know is crying for me right now!"

"You could've stayed home."

I didn't bother dignifying that nonsense.

"HA! Okay so I'm full of shit on that one and would've pouted for-ev-er! We're stopping at that new shoe place since you're making me rush."

"Girl get your ass back in that dressing room, we both know damn well that was happening regardless!" I laughed and tossed my gum wrapper at her, swiftly gaining the disapproving glare of a store clerk. 

Sheepishly, I reclaimed my projectile and had to laugh again, ten year reunion my ass, we still acted like highschool idiots half the time. Somberly thinking, Dylan would likely be there plus one flaunting...anybody's guess... and who needed that visual?

Hours later I dramatically swept into our apartment, haphazardly tossing my keys in the general direction of the table and little bowl they typically rested in, arms out, I flopped onto the, aforementioned, beautiful couch, and proceeded to loudly exaggerate my profound love for said couch, remote, television, and, yes, even overly cute, decorative pillows...which my flopping had scattered to the coffee table and floor. 

Naturally, this cued Denise's turn at the eye rolling and head shaking...I stand by my actions.

"Soon as I get back in there, we're going to talk about this and you'd better be proud of me, even when you get pissed, because I'm going to try it your way and be blunt!"

"Uh huh, sounds like loads of fun, take your time I'm looking for a decent movie or show to stuff my face to."

"I mean it Jacqueline Sierra!"

"Whoa...ouch! Dayum! Gotta bring the whole first and middle name into it? Ow, just...ow! Denise De.. "

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

"I'm not, I promise, but geeze!"

Much quicker than hoped, considering I had a good idea what was coming, she came fussing into the living room and insisted on sitting indian style on the coffee table firmly between me and the t.v. screen.

"Yup, it's like that. I suck at this so, yeah, here we go. When the hell are you going to stop letting that pathetic excuse for a man dictate where you'll go or won't? What you'll do or avoid like it's the damn plague? That lying, cheating, prick never deserved you and certainly doesn't deserve that kinda control over your life."

"He doesn't control anything about me anymore. For the record, I'm not pissed, figured it was coming, and I am proud of you for doing it this way." I sighed.

"Yes he obviously does, you're just not pissed YET, of course you did, and good... because my anxiety is screaming cause I'm forcing myself to sit still, look you in the eye, and refuse to let you hide or run from this any longer. It's been over two years since your divorce finalized, I still want to rip his throat out, you need to stop letting him decide how you live no matter how minimal, and this is a prime opportunity to give that sorry bastard just the teensiest bit of shit he deserves."

Ok, admittedly, was not expecting that. Definitely proud because normally it would've taken her a good two weeks to work up to throwing out something like 'Dylan's a prick, don't let him keep you from having fun!' really fast before jetting out of the apartment for awhile. Really struggling not to be pissed and defensive, kind of my childish go to with anything Dylan related. She was pushing herself way beyond her comfort zone though and I had to love her for it and at least try.

"Okay, you're right, I do let it influence several of my decisions." I could feel my ears burn and couldn't look at her. Baby steps, okay? Damn it!

"Ugh, Jace Im only trying to...wait...what?? Did you just..."

"Yes, I did, okay don't make such a big deal of it, c'mon."

"Um yeah, sorry, I didn't think I'd get this far so quick...at all...ever..."

"Denise!"

"Right! Sorry! Please, please, please reconsider going and let me do the makeover I've always..."

"Nope. No. Huh-uh, not happening, I'm sorry. I can admit I really need to work on a lot concerning that part of my life, I can even confess I've known it and couldn't admit it. I cannot, will not, be your Cinderella, cliche as hell...90s movies much?...geek to princess to pathetically prove some point to some irrelevant jerk, way overdone story. Nope. Negative. Hell naw!"

"No need to become a princess when you're already killin' it at drama queen."

"What? I am not!"

Getting no response I finally looked at her. 

She just sat there, lips pursed, eyebrows raised, head cocked, with her hands folded in her lap, waiting.

Ten minutes of silence later she broke the stand-off.

"I always hated how he made being a popular hot guy seem like a valid thing for you to feel inferior to and dating him something to be grateful for like he was doing you the favor! You've dyed your hair some wild color since we were twelve, got your belly button pierced when we were fifteen, snuck and got your first tattoo at sixteen. Not once have you ever done anything just because that's how it's always been done or how someone said it should be, you were the only one who had the guts to call Mr. Biel out on being a creepy old perv and standing over us in class just to look down our shirts, you even threatened to close his balls in your textbook and go to the school board next time he tried it!" She laughed and I fought back the waterworks as she continued. "You were the emo looking, think I'm tough chick, sneaking up by the old library to smoke cigarettes and weed... but you really were tough, you liked what you liked unapologetically, and you also made straight As and broke Branson O'Dell's nose in fifth grade for daring to call me a dumbass blonde bitch, knocked out three of the jerk's teeth when he got the nerve to call me worse at our senior prom. Dylan should have been on his knees thanking every deity he could memorize that you ever even spoke to him."

"Okay, okay, dramatic, heartwarming speech has reached it's desired effect. Christ, I'm bawling like that time we got so mad at each other over that stupid homecoming float you threw a clipboard at me and informed Mel Gibson wasn't even attractive in the Lethal Weapon series." I sniffed, made some horrible laugh/whimper sound, and frantically wiped my face. Denise cracked up as the memory hit her but not for long. "Always gotta joke. I'm serious though, I don't know why you always thought different amounted to less than but you're wrong. I never have and never will want to do some kind of Barbie makeover on you, so you know, totally your style just more glam...think make 'dracula drool emo'!"

She was killing me, really killing me, I was never gonna dry it up at this rate and the attempt to joke back was too touching at the moment. "I'm serious too and you should feel awful, Mel Gibson was gorgeous in those movies, I loved him, I'm not fucking emo! Also, I love you too... Denise Delilah Deshaw... and I hear you but I suck at this and need to breathe."

"I've spoke my peace, pretty friggin' psyched about that too so I won't strangle you for breaking your promise and saying that monstrosity of a name out loud. I'm gonna go look through jewelry and other accessories now so breathe away, so long as you think on what I've said."

"I promised earlier, you made me cry. All's fair game now... least I didn't sing the song..."

"I'm not above knocking the shit outta you immediately after a sentimental heart to heart."

"Keep it up blondie and I won't sing it, I'll request it...I assume there's gonna be a cheesy DJ or something right?"

"Are you really gonna go!? I could almost let that slide!"

"I'll seriously consider it and.." I held up a finger to try to restrain the rekindled excitement beginning to show on her face, delay the glass shattering squeal I knew was coming. "Under my close supervision and only with my complete agreement to anything done...then and only then... can you do this... makeover...or whatever..." 

We get our new windows next week... nah, but really my left ear is still ringing even now and the neighbor's cat hid for like six days...

The next couple weeks were insane; I even used several personal and vacation days that had been neglected and took enough time off to have the five days prior to, two days of, and even two days after the reunion off. Not that the priors were spent relaxing. I'd been waxed, tweezed, manicured, pedicured, learned all about hair extensions, threatened a lady's life if she got anywhere near my face with her damn mini spray gun talking about contouring and layering, caved and let Denise apply more subtle make-up, managed not to break my neck in six inch heels, and admitted loving the new look but still not being keen on going to this holy grail of social judgement. 

I'd spent a lot more time checking up on people through social media and wasn't loving all the changes I was noticing in myself. Never before did it matter and, though it wasn't crucial in any sense, that it mattered at all now really bugged me.

Even the morning of the 'big night' I refused to promise I'd be there; Denise was bummed but accepted the maybe. She was thrilled with the changes I had embraced and my drive to conqeur bad habits concerning Dylan; her push had already done far more than expected so she dared not test her luck. 

I had done more than just run from salon to salon, shop, and practice walking in heels. I'd faced a lot of painful truths, accepted some positive facts, stopped allowing anything Dylan related into decisions, and made my peace with many things. I even unblocked him on my Facebook, not that a friend request would ever be accepted, and I'd still gladly eviscerate myself before sending one, thank you very much, but progress nonetheless.

I'm still not certain if it's kick in the head irony or beautifully poetic justice but Dylan Grainger, first real love turned first hard lesson turned shitty ex-husband in the first degree, got to make one final decision for me that evening.

My hair was done as was my makeup, which flawlessly matched the dress still hanging in my closet in its protective plastic. 

I hated to disappoint Denise and I honestly didn't make a last minute, panic fueled decision not to go but it was starting in less than thirty minutes and I honestly couldn't think of a single reason why Dylan's or any other attendee's opinion should carry weight with me or how the experience could be beneficial at all. It seemed like positive growth, leaving me confident with my decision and reasons for it. 

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your perspective of my story's end, I'm human and completely subject to human emotions and the reactions they can instigate.

Denise was passing a dull moment, half entertaining idle chit chat with a couple women she had hardly known when the latest song caught her full attention. 

"No that crazy bitch didn't!" She growled in a tone that didn't match the smile spreading across her face as some lovelorn guy sang on about what it was like in New York City and being a thousand miles away from his girl. She managed to push through different crowds of people and find the right ones just in time to witness a little bit of tinseltown script play out in real life. 

Looking silver screen perfect, Jace perfectly calculated the precise second to claim the champagne glass her ex-husband's latest victim was reaching for without seeming as though she was aggressively snatching it away. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, here you can have it... I don't mean to intrude but I got Dylan's message right as I was leaving for here and hated to hear how upset you were thinking you'd miss meeting the 'depressed goth' ex wife." She laughed, air signing the quotation marks and making it all seem genuine and playful. "Dylan's always been cursed with a dry humor few understand but he really is such a joker." Jace smiled sweetly while sympathetically patting his upper arm.

Denise stared in proud amusement as Jace managed to simultaneously captivate and psychologically crush Dylan all while making his date admiringly jealous of her and rightfully suspicious of him before gracefully slipping away to greet another old classmate. 

The hated song had ended, her best friend had finally regained her moxie, and her highschool crush just waltzed through the door alone and sexy as ever...

"I be damned." She grinned and sipped her cheap champagne. "Tinseltown worthy indeed."