Forgetful

Posted December 16th, 2004 by Michelle

In July of 1997, I started work at a Kansas City restaurant, now closed, called Parkway 600. I interviewed there because they had a beautiful flowered patio and it was one of the few places left in KC where my boyfriend and I had not had a fight. We’d only been there once. My first week there was a little hard, because the women were excessively clique-y, and the men all too pretty. I was introduced to everyone at family meal. “This is Michelle, from Chicago,” said my manager. “Please make her feel like home.” They didn’t so much. But the next week, there was another new blonde. “This is Hayley. Please make her feel like home.” Hayley had long blonde hair and was dotted with freckles and had the hugest brown eyes this side of the equator. After family meal, as I remember it, I overheard Hayley say quite loudly, “I just got back from college and I don’t have any friends. Will anyone be my friend?” I sidled over to her and applied for the job. We went on our first “date” that night, moved to Los Angeles together a year later, then to New York two years after that. She’s now in Chicago, and I’m here in Napa, but pictures of us line my cottage and I think about her all the time.

We’ve had some crazy stuff happen to us during the last seven years, stuff far too delicate and precious to discuss. We have managed to get the other in plenty of trouble, and then find the way out every time. We’ve nursed each other’s hearts (and hangovers). She watched my cats for three months when I took to the woods, I slept on couches and floors for two months looking for a place for us to live in New York. We’ve seen death and life together, and fought and played and celebrated like any two sisters in the world.

She’s never felt as far away from me as she does right now. She’s making a life with a truly good man, and she’s finally following her greatest passion and talent. Maybe that’s what it is; maybe she doesn’t need me like she used to. We both struggled, searching for that path that would finally make us feel some degree of satisfaction, any sense of worth. And she lept, lept far from New York, and as she fell she found not just a net but a web that will lead her to the life she wants. I saw her briefly last month, just for two days, and it was bittersweet. I used to worry about her all the time, like I worry about my brothers or my mom, and during those two days I saw that she’s not on my watch anymore- not right now. We will circle back in a few months, or a few years- it doesn’t matter, I’ll know her as long as I live- but for now, she’s building a life and a future and a *self*. And it’s just not about me. We were symbiotic for so long, and now we are both doing exactly what we should be doing, separately. But I look forward to the day, or year, that we live near each other again, and we will pick up right where we left off.

For the first time in seven years, I forgot Hayley’s birthday. This realization knocked the wind out of me, because birthdays are sacred to us, and every one of my last seven are distinct and memorable because of Hayley. So, finally, my dear Hayley, my beautiful friend, a belated, but very happy birthday to you- I hope it was wonderful and sparkly and ridiculous fun. I should have been there, and barring that, I should have remembered. I will do better next time.

Love,

Michelle