“Be Sure:” part 2 (of 4)
Her best friend had everything she didn’t—including a husband.
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When I’m not modeling, I’m a waitress at Suzanne’s, an Upper West Side restaurant on 90th and Amsterdam that serves “New American” cuisine, whatever the hell that is. More upscale than diner food, I guess.
I had just arrived for my afternoon shift and was in the back room, changing into my white blouse, when my cellphone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Frankie? Hi, this is Amie. Dad said you called him last week to find out what I’ve been up to. He texted me your number.”
Shit. Should’ve realized this might happen. Go away, Amie, I don’t want you in my life anymore…
“Um, yeah, I guess seeing you again really unleashed the memories.”
“Dom and I can come into the city this weekend. Let’s have brunch and I’ll tell you everything.”
No. I don’t wanna know about how your last twenty years have been so much happier than mine.
So tell her no. In fact, hang up and block her from your cell. Don’t have anything to do with this woman you once loved like a sister until she made changes in her life sooner and easier than you.
I ground my teeth. “No” was on the edge of my lips.
“Uh… what time?”
***
Come Sunday, Amie, Dom and I met at a cafe in Gramercy, a place I had discovered while modeling at SVA. I ordered a salad and forced it down my gullet.
She did indeed tell all: about her friends, her bicycle, her and Dom’s first date—a blind one; they saw Crazy Rich Asians and loved it—and oh yeah, the type of dress she wore at their wedding. Complete with pictures from her cell. Joy.
Yes, I was green… but goddammit, a part of me cheered for my old friend, too. She couldn’t stop smiling at the memories these pictures triggered. She and Dom held hands and snuggled like they had known each other all their lives. I shed a tear or two despite myself.
And Dom… Jesus. He wore a khaki T-shirt and chinos. His brown hair was cut short. Remember Hugh Jackman in Les Miserables, in the opening number, when he was on that ship, pulling ropes with the other prisoners? Dom’s hair looked like that, but neat. If he had been a margarita, I would’ve swallowed him in one gulp.
“Amie says you two were nerds in high school, but I don’t believe it,” he said.
“Maybe if we had slept with the football team it would’ve been different.” I twirled a lock of hair while gazing into his eyes, praying it wasn’t a mess. “You play football?”
“He should.” Amie giggled. “He handles luggage at Newark Airport.”
“You don’t say.” Did he see me munching on the water chestnuts in my salad? “Well, you would’ve fit in with the jocks, that’s for sure, so you wouldn’t have known we existed.”
“Hey, she may’ve been shedding the pounds, but I met my princess here when she was a size forty, okay?” He took out his cellphone and scrolled to a photo of him and Amie, bigger than she was now but not at her high school size. He showed it to me.
“Oh, god, put that away, quick,” she said.
“I knew after our first date I wanted to keep her. My friends were surprised when we got engaged a year later, but they backed us all the way once they saw we were serious.”
I believed him. Because I knew her.
“Amie,” I said, “how did you do it?”
She sat up straight.
“Do what?”
“Remember when Diane Dominguez made you believe Jonathan Bey was in love with you and you came up to him during lunch and he laughed in your face? She was one of the meanest girls in school, and she knew you crushed on him. How did you not rip her hair out at the roots? How were things like this—and there were lots—no big deal to you?”
She must have had a secret she relied on. Whether it was eastern philosophy or a western self-help book, I could learn what she learned, apply whatever formula she did, and make it work for me.
“Gosh, I’m not sure.” She dipped her head sideways. “I guess it came down to just… not letting them bother me.”
My mouth hung open.
“That’s it?”
“Why should I? There’s worse things in the world to care about, right? And anyway, I’d rather laugh than cry or complain. It makes life worth living, don’t you think?”
“So being mocked never bothered you. At all.”
“Sometimes. But whenever it did I just put it out of my mind the best I could. Sweetie, why did you never tell me this before?”
Yeah, Frankie, why didn’t you confide in your best friend before now—someone who would’ve understood how you felt, who could’ve helped you cope, maybe even spared you all those years of misery?
“I… dunno.”
Why didn’t the assholes who made fun of us make her angry too? Why couldn’t we have been miserable together? The cunt couldn’t even name whatever the fuck it was she had that I didn’t!
She patted my hand. Dom stared, pitying me, probably, then took a bite of her scone.
“Hey, you.” She smiled at him. “Go get your own.” They fought. They weren’t all lovey-dovey, did you see that?
“I will. This is delicious.” He rose and went to the counter. Over his shoulder he glanced at me again.
“I’m gonna pray for you, Frankie.” Now she held my hand. “I’m gonna pray you find the peace of mind you’re still looking for. And that you find it soon.”
If I could go back in time, I’d kick my own ass for thinking looking cooler for classmates I didn’t even care about was more important than my friendship with Amie. But then my mind went to Dom and that photo of her he chose to show me.
I wondered.
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Next chapter November 12