Once more...

The routine is getting a bit old, but is ever-so-necessary.

Amy was my best friend in high school. We met the first day of grade 9, and were together for the next 4 years. After school ended, we had sort of drifted apart; I was headed off to attempt and embrace a new life, she was reluctantly moving to a new city and trying her hand at college.

We talked on and off for the next year, and I visited her when I could, but it just seemed a little odd. She was in a really difficult place, dealing with the fact she didn't really want to be in her program and just wasn't ready for any major life changes. I realize now that I should have been there more for her when she was going through this, but I was never the one she turned to for support in times of crisis. In fact, she was the one who was more likely to be emotional. I remember, probably the only fond memory of 9/11, her reaction. I told her what had happened, and was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. After all, I was one of the few people who realized how the world had changed in the blink of an eye, and she was one of the few who could appriciate the impact. We had seperate classes that afternoon, but when I ran into her in the hall, we talked for a few minutes. I told her how drawn I was, how at times my chest constricted so tightly I thought I would faint...she told me how she'd already had 3 panic attacks over the course of her lunch period. It made me feel a lot better.

Ever since coming home from school this year, we've been talking more than we had since high school. We've seen each other at least once a week since then, and I've really enjoyed getting closer to the friend I knew in high school, as well as meeting the new girl she's become.

Tonight she came over for dinner and to watch (somewhat cheesy) TV. I cooked up some delicious chicken breasts, chopping them up over pasta and some sauce, and delivering it all to the table. We ate, talked, laughed, and just had a nice time. Afterwards, I popped in 'Point Plesant', the Fox series that lasted all of 14 episodes from a few years ago, and we dug in to crappy teen drama and satanic goings-on on the Jersy shore.

After the second episode, she declared she needed to go home. We sat in the blue TV screen light, eyes glinting from the brightness. My chest gave it's usual contraction, my stomach lurched slightly, and I gave my typical opening lines..."So, yeah..."

And I told her.

The reaction was a little reserved at first, "Oh, cool." But when we'd walked out to her car, she threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug. "I'm so glad for you," she said buried in my chest. "I'm just really happy."

I don't know why I keep getting so worked up about telling people, because I really haven't gotten what I'd call a 'bad reaction' yet. I guess it's just the fear that one day, one of my friends will look at me with contempt and walk out of my life forever...and that's something that scares me, regardless of if they are jerks or not.