The Good Friend

Pick Me Up

I left class early that afternoon to pick her up. She'd moved back into her parent's house for the dozenth time since high school – a yo yo struggling to fling itself into the world yet drawn back to the grasp of familiarity at the slightest tug of difficulty. We'd arranged for me to pick her up at 11, but as I climbed the wood-rotted staircase to their split-level front door and knocked loudly I could hear the tv on upstairs and knew she wasn't ready to go. She yelled for me to come in and I hesitantly slid the door open to brace myself for the jarring contrast of the darkness and aroma within. Her parents had moved houses while we were in college and as grandiose and streamlined as her Waterford house was, this space was just as far on the opposite end of the spectrum. This was a woodland house, fresh from the 1970s which sat facing the wrong way down a sloping hill – the view from the street was just the tops of pine trees interrupted by the second floor windows peering over the edge under a suspiciously sagging roofline. A severe and winding driveway led from the street straight downhill, dumping into a small flat courtyard outside their basement garage doors. A hand-built 2 foot tall rock wall as the only barrier keeping vehicles from barreling down the rest of the woodland slope. I never used the driveway though. I wasn't great at driving in reverse. Worse at driving in reverse uphill, and worse still at driving in reverse uphill with an audience in the car with me. So I parked on the street and clopped by way down the driveway and back up the entrance stairs.

Her mother had taken to gardening since they had moved. Or maybe she was always into gardening and I hadn't noticed in my self absorbed youth. But there were ferns and spiderplants, lilies and irises in every patch of soil not overtaken by trees or pinestraw. Inside, the wilderness continued with potted plants on every windowsill and hanging from crocheted baskets hooked to the ceiling. Long green tendrels hung from every corner, softening the visual lines of the sharp edged glossy Chinese reproduction furniture. Furnishings and rugs purchased for the much larger previous home now lined every wall and layered themselves on the floor of this smaller, cozier floorplan. It was a warm, dark eclectic space – well suited for a traveled college professor or spiritual masseuse, but it somehow fit their fluid personalities too. I could smell her perfume wafting down the stairs along with the sounds of the Price is Right on her tv.

Perfume. I couldn't believe she was wearing perfume. For this. It meant she probably was putting on makeup and choosing an outfit. Maybe it made her feel more in control of the situation. All I knew was we were in a time schedule and needed to go. Thick carpeted muffled my steps but two wiry terriers greeted me at the top of her landing anyway. Casper was still a light grey and white – even his cataract covered eyes were milky white like his fur. He had hardly changed since I'd seen him years before – heck, he'd hardly changed since I was 10. His companion was younger with darker hair and a continuous soft growl – a late alert to the household that someone was already inside. They followed me into her room where she greeted me with a big apologetic smile and a hug.

"Thank you for doing this" she said meekly, plopping herself on a clothes strewn bed. Plates and dishes on her side table looked fresh.

"I thought you weren't supposed to eat for a certain number of hours?" I asked, walking over to the tv to turn Bob Barker's voice down and finding a place to sit. "you doing ok?"

She let out a big sigh, climbing onto the bed and scooping up a well worn comforter into her lap "I am, I'm just nervous. I can't believe I'm having to do this. Again. I mean, how fucked up can my life get? And I can't tell my mom. Or shit, really anyone. I don't even want him to know. I've got to get my life back in order and make a fresh start"

"Well, one day at a time is all you can do. Let's get you dressed and head out so we don't miss your appointment. I don't know downtown well. Do you have the apartment keys?" I was uncomfortable but I didn't want her to feel it.