to my ride-or-die. This is Dorothy. Dorothy and I have been friends since freshmen year of high school. We were on poms together. She was shy and I was not. That’s how we met.
When I say I wasn’t shy, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t nervous to talk to her. She was a hot chick (still is) who didn’t talk to anybody. A lot of kids thought she was a bitch with a chip on her shoulder, or full of herself, or whatever else they wanted to make up in their mind before actually speaking to her and getting to know who she is and what she’s about.
She didn’t seem like an asshole to me, just quiet, and really pretty. I’ll talk to anybody if I want to talk to them and I wanted to talk to her. I’m so glad I did. It turned out she wasn’t an asshole at all. She was shy. And would you believe she lacked self-confidence? A girl who looked like that?! Thin, blonde, striking blue eyes, good lips – are you fucking kidding me? And here I am – thick, redhead, eye color nondescript, and teeth in desperate need of braces. But I believed I was the shit – hah! I still do.
Anyway – I remember I had to muster up some courage to talk to her. You know when your throat closes up a little and you get that pit in your stomach and you gotta take a deep breath and hold it for a sec?
Ohmygod, Rachel, just go talk to her.
She was quiet and she smiled. I could tell she was nervous too and I knew in that moment we were gonna be tight. But it took some time. In the beginning, she had her crew and I had mine – we didn’t run together often. We hung out occasionally, maybe? If my memory’s serving me. Mostly we just saw each other at poms. And then one day it changed – by then it was junior year. We went out dancing one night and it’s been history ever since.
And man, what a history. There was a senior year transfer to school in AZ, and then going away to college, and boyfriends, and weddings, and a time when we didn’t talk, and divorces, and the time when we reconnected, and babies, and moving away, and deaths, and coming back, and going again. So much, so much.
And there are plans for the future: To grow old together and live in Florida. The caftan was my gift to her. A promise ring of sorts. It doesn’t so much represent my dedication to cohabitating with Dorothy in the Sunshine State, but my commitment to our relationship. My promise to do my part to keep us together until the day I die. When you find a ride like this one, one who will help you bury the body without questions, you hold on. Not too tight. Never too tight. But just right. And don’t lean into the turns or you’ll dump the fucking bike.
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Rachel Lewandowski