K'ing. In. T.

Before I left for New York I had a few sob-sessions with my best friend Theresa. She and I have been super close for 10 years. She has always been the one who would laugh at me when I need to be laughed at, which I feel is a pretty important aspect of true friendship. Somehow knowing when to make fun of someone keeps them humble without making them want to smack the shit out of you. Anyway, she's the one for that. Plus we have so much in common and she's practically the only friend I have who hasn't sorely disappointed me with bad life decisions. I mean she had a baby out of wedlock, but she was like 21 when that happened and perfectly capable of taking care of herself by then.

Anyway, so we cried before I left. Outside of Burger King no less. She started getting really quiet, and suddenly all I could hear was the sound of Tashawn (her son, my God son) kicking the back of my chair. I turned around, "Hey little munchkin, stop kickin my chair."

I teased him, grabbing his foot and pretending to gobble it up. He let out a loud giggle and I turned back to fact the front. Theresa was wiping her cheeks. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to ask. "What?"

"Your leaving." This time when she said it there was bass in her voice. She didn't say it half joking or taunting. This time when she said it, my flight was exactly a week away. Immediately I started crying.

"I know, Rese." I let out a long sigh, I didn't want to sound cliche but it was all I could think to say, "But your always going to be my best friend. And Shawnie will always be my God baby. Plus now we have somewhere REALLY cool to hang out this summer." I knew these things wouldn't possibly compensate. Our friendship consisted of talking every morning on the way to work. I baby sat Tashawn every Thursday night when Theresa went to Emeryville for her Child Development workshop. She'd drop him off and hang with my before class started. We'd go over to the Safeway across the street and buy a sandwich to split, two little bags of chips and a thing of mixed fruit. We even knew the sandwich guy at the deli by name. Jack. We'd go to Kai's in Alameda on weekends and get Katsu chicken and green tea, promising never to bring a date there. We practically looked like sisters and kept so secrets.

I knew things would be different.

We promised that we would call each other ever day. I knew when I said it that it would be hard to actually do. Between her schedule with the daycare, and the three hour time difference; talking every week became closer to the reality. Now, as I glance at the calendar I realize I haven't talked to her in almost three weeks. I haven't heard Tashawn's voice or his heavy breath against the phone. I haven't gotten to update Theresa on how much I've been flipping out lately and missing D so much. I don't know how things are with her and Tashawn's dad, or if she's done with class yet, or how the new place is. I feel like I have something of a hole in my heart.

It's not like I haven't called and she hasn't called, it's just that we both have such crazy schedules.... Or maybe it's just harder to talk to someone you miss so much. I can't hop in my Scion and drive down the 580 to Seminary. And make that right, and then that other right and pull up to her little yellow house on Walnut. She doesn't even live on Walnut anymore.

Weirdness.