7 Years Ago
When I first met Catch, she was playing on a softball team
with a bunch of fantastic women. That’s
how we met our friend, The Italian. We
were pretty sure The Italian was dating one of the other girls on the team, but
they were very hush hush about it, and no matter how many times we invited them
over, they never took us up on our offers. We really liked The Italian, but at
some point, she just disappeared. We figured we’d misread things and that they
just didn’t want to be our friends.
One night, The Italian called us and asked if she could come
over. She HAD been dating the other girl
on the team, and the other girl had broken up with her the previous month. The Italian was a MESS, and she spent a good
amount of time on our couch as we tried to help her pick up the pieces.
6 Years Ago
The Italian met The Singer.
She started bringing her to Sunday softball, and we loved her
instantly. Over the years, she became
one of my very best friends. The four of
us did everything together. There were
more back yard BBQs than I can count. Camping trips. Double dates. Heart to hearts. The Singer was
one of my bridesmaids. They got engaged.
We all talked of babies and futures and pasts we were happy to leave
9 Months Ago
The Italian and The Singer fell off the grid. They stopped coming to softball games. They stopped responding to invitations. After a few attempts, Catch and I were
puzzled. We knew something wasn’t right, but
we were also hurt. We missed our
friends, but we carried on with our lives figuring they’d let us in when/if
they were ready.
I am in the kitchen cooking dinner when my phone
chirps. It’s The Italian. She said, “I need you guys.” The next thing we know, she’s sitting in our
back yard by the glow of tiki torches telling us her story.
The Singer met someone else on the train eight months ago and
told The Italian that she needed time to figure things out. They broke up. They
got back together. They broke up. They got back together. All the while, The Singer kept telling The
Italian that she loves her and she misses her, but that she also loves HIM.
I gotta say—I never saw that coming.
The Italian has been supporting The Singer financially
throughout all of this. She has been
paying The Singer’s rent even though HIM is living there too. She has been too ashamed and in denial
throughout everything to reach out to her friends. She’s been struggling through this on her own
for the past 8 months.
Things are bad—so bad that I am honestly still in
shock. I can’t even say here half of the
things The Italian told us about HIM last night, but it’s a terrible
situation. HIM threatened The Italian
yesterday on her way to work—he almost hit her with his car and then got out
and told her that The Singer (who was sitting in the car) is “his bitch now.”
My bridesmaid—my confidante—the person who held her head
high and who you could always count on to tell it like it is—she is someone’s “bitch”
now? I can’t even wrap my head around
it. I am a 30-something middle class
white girl from the suburbs—I’ve never had a friend who was content to be
I gave The Italian the best advice I have to offer—my favorite song…
Non, je ne regrette rien.