I was pretty beholden to my friend Kelly when she offhandedly mentioned a couple months ago that I should accompany her to the beach. At the time, I laughed it off and didn't think I'd actually go, or that it would fall through as plans often do. But she was serious and as my life fell apart (losing a job and my relationship falling apart piece by piece along with any desire to try to fix it), I found myself wanting desperately to get out of town. I texted her back one day saying I was in, I'd gotten cash out of the bank for our gas and tolls, and I was really indebted to her.
Our friendship was a rather unlikely one. We worked together for a couple summers at a job that was boring on a good day and distasteful on most. My first day, she jumped up as I walked in, squealing that she was so excited to see me and she totally recognized me because we'd had a class together a couple years before. I stared at her.
Indeed, that's how most days with Kelly went. She was insanely chipper and I thought about throwing my book at her at least twice a shift. I was worn out from the messes I'd made in college, some of which followed me home into the summer. What I eventually learned about her was that she faced the same, she just didn't let on. Grudgingly, I began to consider her a friend, the only one I made there although I didn't really believe in friendship with coworkers. Additionally, I could tolerate her for a few hours at a time, which I now see was my fault, not hers. I was pretty unhappy and I begrudged her for being beautiful and a natural optimist. I didn't see at the time that she was more like me than not. She was human and had the same frustrations and despairs, just also a pretty blonde while she did it.
I remember her bugging me to try her gross, vanilla-spinach, health smoothies as she droned on and on about some new fitness plan, vapid and air-headed in my opinion, as I tried to read my Russian literature in peace. She would beg me to read her "the cat book" ("The Master and Margarita") and I'd do it, figuring it was at least educational.
We've both grown up a lot in the last few years and changed. I still tease her about saying dumb things, like when we were driving on the bridge over a river and marshlands and she said it looked like Africa because there were some burnt looking trees, I suppose. But I'm really proud of who she's become and her desire to always be better. If there's anything I can say about Kelly, it's that she has a heart of gold. She's also the best thing to happen to me at that dumb job, but that's a pretty low standard.
We were absolutely wired on the way down, as most people are when headed to vacation, turning the volume way up as we sang along and gossiped, or just stuffed our faces with handfuls of carb-heavy party mix. If there was anyone to spend a few days relaxing with and avoiding my problems, it was her. She just has this ability to take your mind off whatever is wrong and refocus it on having fun. Sometimes I'm still surprised with how perceptive she can be as I sat next to her on a couch and poured out my desire to get back together with someone from my past. Someone who is better off staying there, she reminded me. Then she patted my head and called him some bad names, as good friends do, because really, he was kind of awful.
She's goofy and I'm still annoyed at her for taking stealthy Snapchats of me while I was engrossed in the art of taking selfies, but at the same time, she'll never make fun of me for spending too much time on Instagram. Every day with her was a blur of taking photos, applying makeup and even more sunscreen. We'd spend a couple hours on the beach complaining about all the sand everywhere and then go out exploring surf shops up and down Coastal. And who else would just go along with my desire to go into a lacrosse store while on vacation?
She's also an awesome wing-woman even if she pops up randomly when I'm talking to a guy at the bar and almost startles me off the stool. It's just Kelly, a fountain of uncontainable enthusiasm and jubilee. And now that I'm older and have matured, I don't begrudge her for radiating beauty; I used to feel like an ugly duckling next to her but that jealousy has faded into a sense of humor that I simply have different attributes... like height.
I cherished almost every moment: her dragging me down the boardwalk with childlike excitement and watching her wander the beach wrapped up in a rug like a crazy woman, quiet evenings on the deck listening to the waves crash and her ridiculous face too early in the morning. I even let her talk me into watching the "Bachelor in Paradise," which I certainly don't do. In a way, it was actually way more entertaining than I expected, but only when watching in the perspective of someone who took a bunch of communications classes. Plus, Chad and Lacy make me feel like I've got my life real straight.
The days went faster than I expected and before I knew it, we were stuffing our things back in duffel bags, locking the door, and trying not to cry as the shore faded into the distance. The drive back is always a lot more depressing than the way down. No singing, no excitement, just a realization that it's back to the real world. I drove most of the way back as she slept in the front seat, curled up and angelic-looking as she clutched her phone, and I contemplated what came next. Work on Monday, a date that night, sleep sometime eventually. What I miss most, other than that view, is that it's just more acceptable to eat pizza at two in the morning when you're at the beach.
