The Beginning of Me and My Extrovert

 By Chelsea Cheatham

There are plenty of ups and downs in being friends with an extrovert. And me, Gia Goodwin, and my friend, Addison Maude, are prime examples.

Did I say that I’m an introvert?

Yep. Many people who claim to be an introvert have no evidence to back it up.

I’ve got evidence.

And guess who’s the extrovert.

Ding!

Who said Addison Maude?

How did this come about?

Well, I’ll tell you.

So, me and Addie have pretty much known each other for half of our entire lives, (being fifteen years, so seven point five or seven in a half years, give or take a few months, but who thinks about that anyway?). Thanks to our parents’ nineteen or so years of friendship, or in other words, ever since my Uncle Steven asked my Aunt Miranda on a date to a ragged pizza shop stuffed in the corner of their college campus. After, my parents had encouraged him to ask my aunt out for two months, which apparently proved successful, because that led to a two year courtship before marriage, and then a year later, after a three year courtship, my parents got married. So, in short, Addie is also my cousin.

Does something sound a little weird to you?

Of course, that is what you would say if your parents knew each long before either of you were born and maintained a healthy relationship for close to twenty years. Why then would you say that you all had been knowing each other for half your lives instead of your whole lives?

Uncle Steven and Aunt Miranda decided to move out of state because of a job opportunity, which, of course, is normal, but didn’t really give us the chance to be “besties”.

Fast-forward ten years, one Cousin Ada, and one Cousin Addie later, and you would find that my aunt and uncle had moved back, and seven- year-old me, is meeting seven- year-old Addie.

Seven- year-old me, is sitting across from seven-year-old Addie at my aunt and uncle’s white marble counter-top, sharing a plate of at least a week-old, sugar cookies, coloring in a My Little Pony coloring book, and listening to our mothers in the other room (well, me, anyway, to make sure mine didn’t get too far away. See, mommy’s a little introvert from the start). While Addie goes on and on about Rainbow on My Little Pony, which I can’t say I had even given the time of day, I watch my older cousin, Ada, turn cartwheels in the backyard through the sliding glass door.

The moment we got through the door, my mother had shoved me (I’ll admit, gently) at a little girl who I had seen sitting at our table at an occasional family reunion, or family birthday party and that I might have played a mini game of tag with. My mother offered a quick, “This is your cousin Addison, she’s seven just like you”, swept up my, at the time, three-year-old brother, Kenton, and with my aunt who had just placed year-old cookies on the counter in front of us, and gave our heads a “sweet” little pat, disappeared into the next room.   

For two seconds, me and Addie just looked at each other, like, what now?

We didn’t have to wait long.

Addie tilted her head, and the next minute she burst. She started talking a mile a minute.

She pointed at the ceiling.

She then pointed at something out the back door.

 Then, she pointed at the flowers on my shirt.

She then pointed out the kitchen door.

I’m pretty sure my eyebrows bunched. And I’m certain my head tilted.

Although, not as though a light bulb had gone off in my head, but as if I was trying to understand a very foreign language.

After a few seconds, Addie ran out of the kitchen.

I remember to have vaguely heard, “my”, “color”, “right back”, before she flew out, going to “who knew where”.

Was I supposed to follow?

This was too much for my seven-year-old brain to understand without mommy nearby to say if it was okay to go or not.

So, I did what seven-year-old me, and current me would do. I observed my surroundings. I looked around, taking note of a mysterious yellow spot on the wall, a very green plant sitting in the biggest pot I had ever seen, and…. cookies.                                                                                                                        

I climbed up on a stool in all my seven-year-old grace, grabbed a cookie, prepared for cookie heaven, and took a bite.

Yuck! I plopped that cookie right back where I got it from.

I might have been seven, but I could tell the difference between a good cookie and a bad one.

And this was a bad one.

And now, I think about how completely unsanitary putting an already bitten cookie back in with the non-bitten cookies were, no matter how bad the cookie was.

Right as I contemplated going to find my embodied mother, Addie came through the doorway, carrying a bucket of coloring materials and a coloring book.

“Let’s color!”, Addie said excitedly, as she plopped her bucket down, slapped her coloring book on the counter, and hopped on the stool across from me.

And that’s how we ended up sitting there coloring pictures of Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie.

“So, who’s your favorite?” Addie asked, as she ripped out another coloring page.

I shrugged.

“Hey,” she said, as she picked up the cookie I had just recently dumped. “Someone bit this one.”

I opened my mouth and said, “It tasted bad.” And for some reason, my seven-year-old self was embarrassed. I looked down and focused on giving my pony green highlights.                                                                                                         

Addie laced her fingers together. “I guess I should tell you about mommy’s cookie plan,” she blew through her fingers, which formed a tunnel.  ”Mommy says,  not to get the good cookies out when people are here, or we won’t have any left for us.” She peered through her fingers. ”Hmm… but I guess she won’t mind this one time, if I get the good cookies out.” She hops down from her stool, then turns back around and smiles. ”Since you’re my cousin friend.”   

And even though I didn’t know this girl who happened to be my cousin very well, from that cookie plan revelation, and her calling me her “cousin friend,” I smiled at her, and accepted her offering of Oreos and an apple juice box.

Thinking back now, I realize that she offered more than just cookies and juice. She offered friendship, and the best thing is, is that I accepted it.