Tales from Indiana.

By Nicole Renee

Alyssa and Caitlin were my best friends from second grade until freshman year. Having a threesome is difficult but we made it work through relentless teasing and laughter. They both were hilarious and we all came from varying degrees of a dysfunctional household; however, Caitlin was gorgeous (she developed Ds before anyone in school, had blonde hair, and a great laugh) and she knew it.1 Therefore, we watched her go through so many shitty dudes. The guys don't vary much in a small town and she seemed to only date clones. I'll never forget the toughest break up she went through... the three of us were hanging out at her place (low supervision and her mom had a hoarding problem which included thousands of CDs to choose from) and listening to album after album. None of us had drank, smoked weed, or done any drugs at this point. The only way we got by was through laughter, tears, and good music. This time it was seven in the morning and we had done another all nighter by watching MTV music videos and cybering on AOL chat rooms (A/S/L). I'll never forget what she told me as rays of the sun cast themselves into rainbows on the plastic CD covers. She said that the only way to get over someone is to teach yourself to hate them.2 At the time, I didn't have the worlds to tell her how fucked up that sounded but I never forgot it.

The last time I spoke to Caitlin3 was when her brother, Kevin, committed suicide. Kevin and my oldest brother were best friends when Caitlin and I were best friends. Eventually, Kevin stopped leaving his room and refused to see anyone. Whenever their family came up between my Dad and I, he told me that something bad was going to happen and someone needed to do something about Kevin. I came when Caitlin called to tell me about her brother. We hung out in her townhouse in Highland(IN) and I smoked weed in the garage while she drank wine. We hadn't spoken for years so it was somewhat of a surprise to me when she called me for support. Apparently her cop boyfriend had proposed to her behind the high school - on the bike trail and now they lived together in this townhouse. Her mother felt like she was settling but according to her, she welcomed comfort after her unstable childhood. In short, her mother was a hoarder and her father faked his own death to escape his family and she also walked into him holding a gun to her mom's head. At twenty she asked me a lot of questions about death that I couldn't directly answer. How do you make someones life meaningful, what do you do with this anger, how do I stop being angry at my mom, why him, and why now? I realized then that she called me because I had the most experience with death out of anyone she knew. I smiled because I remembered that time when we were seven at a sleep over and she told me that she always wished that I could see my mom one last time. The answers I gave her questions don't bare repeating as they weren't very good or conclusive but they were honest.

In truth, no one is granted the chance to have illusions about life. Life is short, temporary, and meaningless by nature. The length and depth are completely up to you.

  1. None of us fit in with the families whose parents made them homemade lunches and picked them up from school. We avoided our homes and hated everyone. []
  2. An approach I have used to pry myself from a few relationships. I prefer looking for the best in people but let's be honest in that it is much easier to find faults. []
  3. Alyssa and I continued our friendship for years after us and Caitlin fell apart. We lived together when I was in college, I broke up her first fight, and saw all of her boyfriends up until the birth of her daughter. I miss her everyday. She was such a good friend that I thought that all of my friends would be like her - that's both a compliment to her and an insult to me. This would have made her laugh. []

2 Responses to “Tales from Indiana.”

  1. Well, technically speaking the shortness and the shallowness are completely up to you. The other end's a lot more resistent.

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