I stood in my kitchen and stared out the window a bit longer, struck by the pure loneliness. It was depressing. Unable to stand another minute in the dark house, I pulled my soggy Chucks back on and checked my reflection in the mirror nearby. My face was very pale, with a rosy touch to the cheeks and nose from the cold I’d only just escaped. My bangs were stringy and stuck to my forehead from being unwashed and wet all at the same time. I didn’t really care what I looked like right now, but somehow I felt it proper to at least try and look decent before going out to see Kitty.
She was visiting over fall break and I couldn’t be happier. You see, I’m talking about my oldest childhood friend. We met in Kindergarten and were friends ever since. (As a matter of fact, we got along so well that they never put us in a class together after Kindergarten again because we were too busy being friends to pay attention to anything else)
The reason she wasn’t staying at our house was simple; Space. Our house was of normal size but we lacked a decent guest room and my room was far too small to house two people for a period of two months. Our neighbour, who still had a whole upper story free that he planned to rent, let Kitty stay for free.
Kitty had always been a real liberal, brash girl with a dry, pseudo-British sense of humour. I loved every sarcastic comment she made and every soft snicker she released in the wake of people who obviously had no idea what they were talking about, but still insisted on playing the smart-ass. After washing my hair and changing into more comfortable clothes I wandered outside again.
It only took a few moments to reach my destination so the rain didn’t bother me a bit. Kitty, as to be expected, was up in her room, watching TV. I furiously thanked Mr.Hartmann again for the thousandth time, like every other time I saw him, and he smiled and left me to hurry upstairs. Kitty was sitting on the bed, watching an old season of CSI that I happened to have on DVD and had already seen at least a hundred times. (I brought with me during the move)
“Bloody moron!” She exclaimed, pointing to the screen and furrowing her thin eyebrows in irritation. Having an abundance of free time, she always took joy in watching movies (particularly old or very bad movies) and pointing out mistakes, tropes or bad acting. “And she should be wearing a hair-net!” She went on, popping a pretzel stick in her mouth. “She could contaminate evidence! It’s an autopsy and not a fashion show.”
I nodded and grinned, letting myself flop down on the bed as well, kicking off my unlaced shoes in the process.
I really adore Kitty. Her name isn’t really Kitty, by the way. But for the following reasons, I will refer to her as such: a. ‘Kitty’ was her nickname since Kindergarten, b. she preferred the name to her own, and c. she had always been paranoid. If I were to tell all this personal stuff and use her real name, she would be mortified and fret about what her mother might think, or her colleagues or old classmates.
She and I were polar opposites, look-wise. Kitty had beautiful, long blonde hair that went to about her elbows. I, on the other hand, had dark brown hair that reached to my shoulder and I always put it in a ponytail or a messy bun anyway. She parted her hair in the middle and wore a headband at all times without visible bangs. I had slightly frayed bangs that went right to my eyebrows, never wore a headband. She was flaccid and has a clear face with delicate, elf-like features. My face was round, freckled and I was always a tad more curvaceous. She was of average or tall height; I’m only 1’57 meters.
Get the point? We’re two opposite people that share a special bond.
Like protons and electrons, coffee and cream, and so on and so forth.
Anyway, I talked to Kitty for a while, only paying minor attention to the TV nearby. I really love this chick. When we were little, we actually considered ourselves to be sisters. We still did. And still do. One of the things I love most about her, it’s the thing you notice right away. The second she opens her mouth, you just can tell.
“What’s got you so disconsolate?”
There. Kitty would never ask me what’s got me ‘down’ or even say ‘why the long face?’. That girl is a walking, breathing thesaurus. Her vocabulary exceeds mine by miles and I speak two languages! I’d like to think that my vocabulary in the English language isn’t exactly limited, either. I don’t know if it has something to do with the fact that she learned to spell when she was like three years old, using sponge-letters in the bathtub, or if it’s just because she’s an ingenious freak of nature… but whatever the case, she’s remarkable.
I shrugged and forced a smile. It was hard not to smile at Kitty. Hard for me, anyway. We’d been through way too much for me to waste any time frowning. I once had a very, very close encounter with losing her for good. We were very close and then drifted apart and it was my fault, alone. After bawling over the phone for hours, a series of incredibly sappy and apathetic emails and much, much begging, I was able to save everything and our friendship was stronger than ever.
“You don’t have that… that zeal that you usually have!”
“Come again?” I was baffled.
“Zeal. Passion or enthusiasm.”
“Oh.” Of course. Kitty would never use a word she couldn’t spell or replace with at least five other synonyms. “I don’t know, Kitty. I guess it’s the weather.” We both glanced simultaneously out the window and watched the droplets of water pattering harder against the glass.
It was only around one PM now and I finally realized just how long I’d been standing in my kitchen, doing absolutely nothing but letting my mind wander. “I could go for a cig.” I announced, sliding off the bed and digging into the kangaroo-like pocket of my hoodie. Kitty didn’t smoke, but she accompanied me anyway. We talked a lot out on the porch; I’d smoke, she’d talk and keep me entertained.
We stood under the awning, Kitty keeping her arms crossed tightly over her chest for warmth. “This weather sucks.” Every once in a while, she’d let a blunt, simple remark slip. But it was rare. I nodded and exhaled the grey smoke out, shivering. My fingers were reddening again.
“So how’s Wes?” I asked, as nonchalantly as I could. She’d dumped him recently and I think I was more shocked to hear about her decision than poor Wesley himself.
It seemed that I’d surprised her with my sudden inquiry. She stared at me for the longest time, her eyes then trailing to the wooden boards below. “He’s been very… phlegmatic.” I had to think a long time to figure out what that word meant and finally determined that it was about the same thing as ‘apathetic’. “He skipped the last few days of school and never replied my calls.”
Kitty dumped the boy, but she wasn’t heartless. She did care about Wesley in a neutral, friendship-based manner. Guilt was obviously eating her from the inside out and it showed on her eyes now.
Suddenly, I felt positively horrible for even asking. “I’m sorry…” I said, chewing on my lower lip nervously between drags. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’s just the age we’re in, you know? He’ll get over it.” It was weird. We sort of completed each other. She had book-smarts and I had street-smarts and the better social skills. Together, we were unstoppable.
Perhaps that’s why the divorce and move struck me so horrible. It took me years to get over it. As a matter of fact, I’m still not entirely accustomed to coming home and not being able to beg my mom to drive me over to Kitty’s place. It’s tragic and amusing, all at the same time. I have a bizarre sense of humour, I know.
She cheered up a little or at least acted like she was getting over it for my benefit. “I guess. I worry too much.” We remained silent for a few moments, watching the smoke waft out and disappear as soon as it was unprotected by the patio. Sometimes, there were moments where it was just best to stay silent. Both of us knew damn well that we couldn’t just say ‘Oh, it isn’t that bad’ and everything would magically be alright. We were old enough to know that and had been through too much to be unrealistic or childish when it came to loss of any kind.
The rain was slowly coming to an end now and resided into a light drizzle. I thought for a moment and flicked what was left of my cigarette into a puddle below. “We should go out tonight.” I concluded, peering over to her. “To get your mind off of things.”
Now, I wasn’t the most rebellious or sinful teenager in the world, but Kitty was still a saint in comparison. She didn’t drink, smoke, do drugs or even bother with boys.
I was surprised by her answer, to be honest. She didn’t even think about it too long and just complied. “Sure!” Her enthusiasm was alien to me and I wanted to ask what was up, but just brushed it off. Kitty wasn’t really the kind of person that was dying to go out to clubs or private parties. She must’ve been desperate to get her mind of Wes. I couldn’t blame her, either, because from what I’d heard, he was sort of a pansy; very sensitive.
And so it was settled. We went to my house and took turns checking emails, ate when my grandma got home, and then waited for my mom so I could ask permission. In between, we made jokes about how I’d still be asking permission, even when I was twenty-five. My mom was very lenient anyway. She let me do whatever I wanted, as long as I asked first.
We met up with a few kids I knew from school later on near a club called “The Chasm”. Judging by the general clientele that loitered around the front, the name was more than fitting. I smoked a cigarette out in the front, examining everyone’s wardrobe and coming to the conclusion that I was one of the few who wore colourful clothes. I favoured green and it showed. I had a very feminine style at the time that included a lot of flower-pins and wooden jewellery. Kitty favoured neutral, unisex clothes like jeans and plain T-shirts without many accessories at all.
Adjusting my skirt and tossing my lighter in the tiny lavender handbag I carried, we walked together in the dimly lit club that actually was more of a bar than anything else. It had a slightly gothic touch to it and most of the younger, nonconforming kids came on the weekend to party. I’d gone through one of those little ‘dark’ phases when I was around thirteen or fourteen, which made those kids seem ridiculous in my eyes. Although only two years separated me from the majority of the scene, I felt much more mature.
I leaned against the counter and ordered a glass of Coke for Kitty and Vodka-Energy for myself. After a short chat with the guy behind the counter and an exchange of money, I walked back to out table. As to be expected, my best friend was being pestered by some guy that honestly thought that he had a chance. Poor sap.
Of course, she couldn’t tell him off for the obvious reason that she couldn’t understand him or talk to him. I set the glasses down and slid next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. It was sort of a mean gag that Kitty and I played on a regular basis. We’d pretend to be a couple. “You wanna get lost, bumpkin?” I quipped in German, narrowing my eyes at the guy who was standing against our light source. “We’re trying to enjoy our date.” With obvious embarrassment, he hurriedly stammered an apology and rushed off to his friends. Kitty took a sip of Coke and just laughed, thanking me and asking what the hell I’d just said.
“I’ll miss this town.” Kitty finally remarked, avoiding my puzzled look as she watched a couple of kids dance. It ruined my vivacious mood entirely as I came back to earth. Kitty was leaving in two days and my glorious, perfect autumn was coming to an end before it had even started.
“Yeah.” I could only choke out that one word, washing my contempt down with a swing of vodka.
After about an hour and five mix drinks later, I was nearly in tears. Kitty had gradually let me coax her into drinking a beer or two and we were both tipsy (ok, I was drunk). All the memories began to swell back, both good and bad. At times, we’d laugh at inside jokes, attracting a few stares. Two seconds later, we’d list all the sad songs that seemed to perfectly describe our situation or feelings towards one another.
None of the people we’d originally come with dared to intervene in our reminiscence. Most had left, the others were…someplace. We didn’t care. For the first time in years, I felt my happy-go-lucky façade crumbling to pieces.
“I ‘un wan’ ya’ ta’ gooo…” I groaned, leaning against her shoulder as I fought back the urge to either pass out or start wailing. My chin trembled and my throat was impossibly dry by now. Despite the new laws they’d passed, I lit up my cigarette and held it between my quivering lips.
Kitty smiled and stroked my hair in the exact same way my father had when he dropped me off at the airport, the year before. Unable to hold it back anymore, I felt the warm tears soak my cheeks. I let the cigarette fall on the floor, wrapping my arms around her and clinging to my oldest friend for dear life. I felt like a pathetic five-year old again, but it didn’t matter. Some guy walked by and stepped out my drag, thankfully.
I mumbled something inaudibly against her shoulder, smearing mascara on her turquoise T-shirt. It took several moments for me to calm down but when I did, I noticed that she was crying as well. Kitty was the only person I really cried around. (Save for the other patrons of the club, all of whom were of no meaning to me anyway)
“Y-You hafta’ come back i-in winter…” I went on, my breathing shaky. “W-we’ll go to Rothenberg… Itsso’ pretty…”
She nodded and agreed that we’d definitely have to do something along those lines next year and reminded me that I’d visit her in the summer anyway, which was months away. Her attempts to get me to calm down were futile. I sucked in a deep breath of air, peering up at her with large, wet and puffy eyes. “I love you, Kitty.”
“I love you too!”
We had a special bond that even the oldest couples or warmest families could only dream of. We had what most kids our age lacked. We had something special. We had a luxuriant, tenacious and true friendship.
When Kitty and I parted at the airport, there was a very sober air around us. We hugged and laughed and I waited in the lobby until her airplane had been gone for an hour. I couldn’t see myself just getting into my car and driving back home, like nothing happened. I’d been living so far away from Kitty for six years and we saw each other once, maybe twice a year for a period anywhere between two weeks and three months. This time, our separation was different.
When she disappeared from my sight, the crying really began for me. Several flight attendants, passengers and security people came over to me and asked me what the matter was. A lady even brought me a cup of coffee. They must’ve thought I was a nervous wreck or something; they treated me like a little kid or a really brittle old woman.
The coffee warmed my stomach and I thanked the people around me with a tiny, pathetic voice, but inwardly, I felt dead. I realize how drastic and hardcore that sounds, but there was no other way to describe it. Something was just different about it all, this time. I just couldn’t get over the loss, even if it was temporary. I’m a product of a broken home, mind you. I’d always thought that after being separated from one of your parents, then any other detachment would only seem half as bad.
Needless to say, this was not the case. On the contrary; with every loss, I grew even more frail and needy. No matter how many new friends I made, the holes left were becoming harder and harder to fill.
I went to the ladies’ room and removed the black smudges and streaks from under my eyes, left from my tears mixed with mascara. I redid my makeup within a few moments. Foundation, mascara, powder, done.
I bought two bagels and ate one on the way out. It took me about a half an hour to find my parking space. It was only 9:30am and the city of Hamburg was already bustling. We were let off for autumn break now. I was forced to spend it alone because our holidays weren’t parallel to Kitty’s and most of my other friends were going away somewhere and had plans.
I turned on the radio and finished off my second cream cheese bagel as I drove. Would I bother to go back home just yet? Bremerhaven was about two hundred kilometres away and I had two weeks to do whatever I wanted. Instead of heading down the autobahn home, I took a different exit and started towards Berlin. I’d never been there before and was told by many people that it was good for parties and known for friendly people. I had nothing to lose, anyway.
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