November 13, 2017
I remember in junior high school, my best friend was my sister according to everyone. Apparently we looked alike which I couldn’t deny due to our semblant ethnic backgrounds.
The first thing I noticed about her when we met was her earrings. They were purple coiled wire with pink spike balls on the ends of the short coil.
Eventually, I grew closer to her than the girl leading my section in band. She and I collectively wrote stories and created characters, handsome, fearless, dragon-riding, sword-wielding, prince-warriors. We fabricated worlds where we were actually sisters and we grew up together, learning magic and discovering fantastical kingdoms.
When I was fifteen or sixteen years old, I had one of the few sleepovers I’ve ever been to in my life at her house. She and I were crowded onto the guest room couch with the window open, allowing cool September breezes filter through the first-story room.
The power was out at her house because her mom forgot to pay the electric bill, but since I was out all day with her family, they didn’t realize it was out til nighttime came. The electric company wouldn’t open til 8 am the next morning, so we lived by moonlight until then. That meant a night of no air conditioning, no phone chargers, and no light. With her bedroom on the second floor, she and I would bake throughout the night if we stayed up there.
But what resonated with me that night was when she confessed that I actually made her feel better as opposed to her parents or her long-time friends in her grade. Crying in frustration and fury at her mother’s forgetfulness, all I could remember was holding her in my arms and knowing she wept without seeing because I felt warm tears occasionally trickle onto my arm while she mumbled almost incoherently.
I recall venting to her about my parents and she would always take care of me and make me feel protected in the big sister role she naturally assumed, the big sister I’d never had.
I suppose it was the least I could do for her.
By the end of the night she had recollected herself and around one in the morning, I began falling asleep while we played hangman on her iPod touch and it was then I finally confessed to her who my crush was, much to her surprise (which is a whole other story in itself; that guy was and still is a total waste of time, a real doozie).
I often wonder if I’m the only one who reminisces on such memories.