Or, 'there are no black people in the state of Maine,'
Sunday at Lunch, my friend Erin and I decided to kidnap Richard. We haven’t seen him in years and Erin misses him. Just going to his house, calling him up, or showing up unannounced at his place of business isn’t our style. We plotted how we’d go about it; we have it all worked out.
First, we’re going to stalk him because we don’t have any idea where he is. We’re going to have to do some good old-fashioned police work and find that out. Then we’re going to road trip there and have a stake out in the town in Maine where he was last seen and we believe he lives. When he’s at work one day we’ll show up and take him. Amanda won’t actively allow herself to be an accomplice in a crime so we’ll have her drive the get away van.
Getting him out of his office will be the hard part. This is what we think will work, tell us what you think: to distract any coworkers or clients who’d get in our way we’re going to have Foxy De sing the song and do the dance for Beyonce’s Single Ladies, Christian and Kirsten can do backup for her because they know the words and the moves. Christian, don’t even deny it. There are no black people in Maine so no one will be able to tell the difference between Foxy De and Beyonce. Erin and I will snatch Richard while everyone is entranced by Foxy’s dancing. We’ll have to borrow Christian’s Balenciaga ski masks and throw him in the van. Kathy will be around in a minute in a chase car to retrieve the dancers. It is the perfect plan. The only flaw in it would be if Foxy De and Christian got into it on who got to be Beyonce.
These, children, are the things you do for your friends. You kidnap them in ski masks and throw them into vans. I’ve done it before; it’s not that hard.
Having lunch with Erin was fantastic and the perfect cap to a weekend themed on friendship. On Friday another friend capped my need to be needed by calling with a problem that needed solving or a vent that needed venting. Being needed is a vital part of a friendship – at least for me. On Saturday another friend called with the same need during the day and I realized while this friend shared their tribulations with me that I was lucky to have this friend. She is the person who’d do anything for you whenever you needed her to. I only wish I weren’t such a taker when I should be more of a giver. She was also going through the painful experience of divorcing a friend.
The second friend reminded me of the fact that I too had recently been divorced by a friend – several in fact – because of my support for President Obama during the campaign. Being dumped from a romantic entanglement is painful but being divorced from a friend is worse. It hurt, it was the lamest reason to lose a friend and I certainly didn’t ditch them when I disagreed with their politics. I counted one as a ‘best friend’ from childhood and I am steadfast in the fact that I do miss them and I am glad I will never see him again. I have reached a point where I’ve reconciled myself to the fact that we’ve divorced and I no longer resent the time I spent with them in my life or the sacrifices I made to be their friend. Normally I look back on time spent with awful human beings with a mix of bitterness, rage, and wistfulness but in this case I will maintain my antipathy for my friend but cherish the time we spent together and value what I learned from them about being a human. As dreadful a person as he is and while his reasons for divorcing me are inane I did learn a great deal about how to be a friend and how not to be a friend from him. I don’t know if it’s some strange level of maturity or wrong because it’s charming and incongruous all at once.
There are no steadfast measures of friendship. One story I could tell you would be this: I had sushi this weekend with Paul and Christian. Paul was late so Christian and I walked around the mall waiting for Paul’s slow ass to arrive and we ran into one of my former students – which is always a fiasco – and the student pointed out that I had a shirttail sticking out of my zipper. Christian had noticed and not told me and I knew this and said, “You betch!” and shoved him and then Christian shoved me back – all in play – but I didn’t realize there was a low fountain behind me and I fell in. The manager from Godiva came out as I was splashing around and asked what I was doing. Christian said, “That cheap bastard is trying to scrounge enough change up to pay for his dinner.” Then when the mall cops came to see what the commotion was Christian claimed I was his retarded older brother who fell a lot. That is what friends do for each other: cover, cover, cover. Later, when we were finally met Paul at the sushi place and he asked why I was sopping wet Christian said, “you make people wet, it can’t be helped.” That is also what friends do for you: they memorialize your stupid moments, never letting you forget them and they make sure everyone else gets to enjoy them as well.
Another measure of friendship would be when I left Erin today, and I will leave this at that. We were at Erin’s office (yes, on a Sunday) and clients showed up so that was my cue to leave. Erin said good-bye and hugged me; it was the most natural thing in the world. I don’t hug people. I don’t hug my mother. I remembered to hug my Great-Grandmother when I saw her last instead of shaking her hand. I don’t just hug like everyone else does; constant gratuitous touching is meaningless to me and probably to you as well but that it didn’t bother me is a measure of the fact that we’re friends. In contrast the person I worked for on the campaign used to hug people all the time, including me, and it always made me want to jump out of my skin and throw myself in the Ohio River. If we would have been friends it might have been different. That’s what friends do for you; they reshape your comfort zones and push you to be better people.
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