I remember the first time I met my best friend in Washington DC, I didn't like her. I remember this was my initial first impression of her. There's something to be said for first impressions.
She had this air about her that was bratty and gross. Eyebrows arched with judgement and scanning the party for anything to elevate herself against. The way most people in the District would do, trying to find a way to talk about themselves in the political arena; to measure and size up their worth and value.
We were both makeup artists and this is why we both ended up moving to NYC. We did the same master makeup program and began our New York lives together. Her single, me married. 'P' was sweet and we went through the first year in New York side by side at parties, making dinner, doing test shoots, creative shoots, collaborating on opportunities and so forth.
Eventually my career took off and I was winning competitions and flying off to London to compete and eventually got hired in the makeup department on a major motion picture. It all happened so fast that summer I can hardly remember not going to London being an option. Because, this is why you move to New York right??!!! To get the biggest fucking break of your life, so you better be ready for it. And I was.
So, off I went for 2 months, assisting the top film makeup artists in the industry, rubbing shoulders with movie stars I had no business being around otherwise. The days were long and involved a lot of waiting around. The time difference between NYC and London created difficulty in keeping in touch with our busy lives but 'P' and I talked almost every week and emailed. There's nothing like a friend that feels like a sister.
She only had a brother, whereas I grew up with two sisters, so she looked up to me somewhat and we had a sweet innocence to our friendship. We were also raised very Christian and sheltered. So much so that when it came to talk about sexual or dark places, they were judged harshly. I'm ashamed to think about what a judgmental ass hole I was. Thinking I was better than others. I think we fed that in one another. We also competed against one another. Secretly. It's something you have to watch out for in close friendships. I had more of a natural artistic ability than she, who was the perfectionist, and I think this bothered her. It would later contribute to our ultimate fall out.
She was hurt I hadn't kept in touch better while I was in London. I didn't know what to talk with her about about. I'd entered a phase of life she'd only conceptualized. Her ideal of me and our friendship was so fragile. Once I got back to New York, we went out for wine and cheese in Chelsea. After two glasses of Shiraz, I told her my secret. I hadn't meant to, but I did. This girl who was a virgin on her wedding night, had had an affair in London. The guilt in me pushed it out unintentionally, longing for a safe place to dialogue. Instead it was met with shock and shame.
I'd always behaved so well. Performed so well. Was such a good, perfect, ideal wife. How could this happen? "How could you do this?" my single, inexperienced friend pleaded. I'd shared too much. it wasn't safe. It wasn't going to be okay. This friendship had become collateral damage.
Over the next year she was by my side, lending a home and accountability and acting as a support even though she had never been married and had no business being in the middle of everything. The judgement remained strong and the friendship tense. And so, while years are short, those days were long... I watched my marriage die from a distance, an unending stress and sadness. But through all of this I went engagement ring shopping with her the day after my husband asked for a divorce. She told me I needed to be a good friend to her because of everything she'd done for me. I didn't want to let her down, so I went.
To this day it's a reminder of the measuring and the trauma. Eventually, she stopped being my friend. No explanation. Just silence - for 5 months. I'm not gonna lie, I was a mess and drama the whole year while my marriage was falling apart. I lost numerous friendships. The ones I still have I cherish because of their patience and grace towards me.
The breaking point between her and I came when she did something that hurt more than the divorce. She invited my ex to her engagement party, and not me. Our of spite. Because she could. I found out afterwards and saw the pictures after my mutual friend told me. It cut me deep. The betrayal. The competitive, vindictive spirit to hurt me when I was down, simply because she could. I knew we could never be friends again.
It would be another 2 months until I would see her after the engagement party, at a mutual friend's film screening. We knew each other was going to be there, but we didn't acknowledge each other. There she was with the same look and raised eyebrows as the day I'd met her. She eventually made excuses and left to go somewhere else I'm sure to avoid having to see my involvement with the event and feel insignificant, thus my surprise when she had left her car keys on the bar. She was so shook by having to see me that she left her keys. No one has cars in NYC except the occasional friend in Brooklyn, and she was this friend. I'd borrowed that car numerous times when moving my belongings out of the house because of the divorce.
Seeing them on the bar, I grabbed them. A week later, I threw them in the East River, one by one. After that, every time I thought about what she'd done, I'd remember the keys...and always feel so much better.