Drift

Today I found an old picture. In it, two teenage girls sit side by side in the bleachers at a high school football game. The sky is tinted with orange as the sun sets behind them. Large stadium lights wash the picture in white. They have their arms slung around one another and are smiling in that carefree way of kids who have it all figured out. 

Mae, on the right, is wearing shorts and white t-shirt displaying the logo for some long forgotten boy band. Her brown hair is dyed red and is up in a ponytail with a black ribbon. 

Kara on the left. Her hair is short- recently cut, maybe? Probably the shortest it has been since that picture was taken. She wears a hoodie and jeans, even though, in September in Texas, it is likely 90 degrees out. 

They met in the seventh grade as a pair of awkward, uncertain twelve year old girls, and have been inseparable since.

Their friendship is something of a legend among their peers. They sit together in class, they eat together at lunch, they participate in the same extracurricular activities. Mae goes to Kara’s house almost every day after school. They spend weekends, holidays, and vacations together. They are even so close with one another's families that it is not uncommon- in fact it is almost expected- for them to attend each other's family events. So Mae was a guest at Kara’s brother's wedding and Kara was in attendance for Mae’s parents anniversary party.

They know each other's phone passwords. They know each other's Starbucks order. They know each other's favorite snack, movie, and song. They are partners in crime. 

Mae, ten months older, is the more outgoing, outspoken of the pair. She is the leader between them. A type-A personality through and through. 

Kara is happy to trail behind. Happy to follow along. Happy most of all to feel like she is a part of something.

One day someone makes the comment “I envy your friendship” to Kara and she is almost beside herself with pride. Her friendship. Kara tends to follow Mae like a puppy. She suspects that she is a bit more invested than Mae but that is okay. It is to be expected. It is the nature of their personalities. 

Mae will charge forward, unflinching, and Kara will defer to Mae. That’s just the way they are built. 

High school continues. In their sophomore year Mae begins dating Adam. Kara likes Adam, always has. The three of them are friends and spend time together as a group. Mae spends more and more time with Adam and his friends but Kara understands. The invitations for Kara to tag along become few and far between, and eventually the stop all together. 

One evening Kara calls Mae in tears. They had planned for Mae to come over and spend the night after a date with Adam. 

Kara asks, “Are you on your way?” 

Mae says, “No. I’m at Adam’s.” 

Kara asks through tears if she can come over soon. 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” 

An hour later Kara receives a text: Sorry I can’t come over tonight.

They never discuss that evening. Mae never inquires as to why Kara was upset and Kara never brings up the abandonment she felt that day.

Their friendship is still strong as far as friendships go. They survive moving schools. They survive graduating. They survive living in different cities. They survive drama among mutual friends. 

Kara attends Mae’s little sister's graduation. Mae goes with Kara’s family on vacation. They still have weekends, road trips, and three-hour long phone calls. Fewer and farther between but still there.

What causes a fissure in such a strong friendship? 

Mae follows Adam to college and Kara stays behind.

Kara gets a new job and can’t make trips up to visit; can barely make time for coffee when Mae is in town. 

Mae has a miscarriage and Kara is not there. 

Kara’s grandmother dies and Mae never shows up to the funeral. She comes to the wake but leaves early to meet a boy. 

“What about Adam?” Kara asks. 

Mae shrugs. “We’re fighting.”

Kara calls one day to ask if she can drive up and spend the weekend. Mae says that she has moved to a new city. 

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Oh.”

Mae and Adam break up after four years of on again, off again. Kara only finds out after running into Adam at a show. 

Kara starts going to the gym everyday after work and keeps track of her caloric intake religiously. She stops eating. First breakfast, then dinner. Soon she is admonishing herself for eating an apple for lunch- what do you need all that food for? She loses forty pounds.

Mae tells Kara about her newest hobby. “It’s out of your system in three days,” She says. “It’s great, it helps me focus,” She says. “It’s not even that addictive, I mean, honestly, I don’t even crave it,” She says. She has been talking non-stop for two and a half hours. Kara keeps her eyes down, focusing on Mae's leg bouncing at ninety miles an hour. 

A hot September evening. Six years after the picture at the football game.

They meet for dinner to celebrate Kara’s twenty-first birthday. Her birthday was two months before, but they couldn’t find time for dinner until now. 

Mae tells Kara about her sister’s dramatic break away from the family. Kara tells Mae about her brother's new baby. 

They make small talk to fill the evening.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.” Mae says.

“Yeah. five months now.” 

“Wow.”

“How’s the new job?” Kara asks.

“It wasn’t working out so I quit.”

Underneath the table, Mae’s leg bounces away. She excuses herself to the restroom four times. 

Kara only orders water. 

“You’re not hungry?” 

“I already ate.” 

“You don’t want a drink?” 

“I’m not in the mood.”

They hurry through the evening. Kara pays the bill. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll pay next time.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

“We have to do this again soon.”

“Yes, definitely.”

Outside in the parking lot, they hug. Not the hug of old friends. Not the hug of acquaintances. A short and awkward fumble of limbs. Kara is all bone and her elbow jams Mae’s arm. Mae can barely stand still for the duration of the hug. It is a short and awkward goodbye. 

They never see each other again.

I pull that old picture out of a box and stare at it in wonder. How does it happen? One day we looked up and we were oceans away from each other. How can such close friends drift so far apart without ever realizing it? 

It’s not like we had some huge fight. There was no big blow up, nothing hurtful said in anger that needed to be taken back. It was just a slow drift.

I think about calling her, offering to buy her a drink or inviting her to dinner. The history is so dense and deep, surely we are capable of salvaging a friendship.

I stare at that picture for a long time, trying to remember that specific Friday night and coming up empty. That day is lost in the depths of our history together with all the other football games, dances, field trips, weekends at the movies, summers by the pool, afternoons spent lounging around each other's houses. Lost with our first sips of alcohol, our first cigarettes, our first kisses as giggly pre-teens, our first times having sex. 

I look at the girls in the picture and realize that it isn't just the memories that are gone. Those girls, smiling and hopeful, they are gone too.

I put the picture back into the box where it lives among the old ticket stubs and fading yearbooks. I put the box back on the shelf, turn off the light, and close the closet door.