Sucking in a breath, I asked, “Can it be a threesome? I can’t choose between the two hot country crooners.”
Turning her head to look at me, Britt took a swig of her soda and laughed. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think of that! Yes, definitely a threesome!” Laughing, she took another swig of her soda.
I turned to watch Jake Owens perform his single, “Barefoot Blue Jean Night,” when I felt a chip hit my shoulder. Turning to my best friend, I saw she was staring at me with a smile on her face.
I was just about to open my mouth when I felt Britt wrap her arms around me and she kissed my cheek. Letting out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I wrapped my arms around her waist. Breathing in the warm vanilla spray I had grown accustomed to, I felt at home.
Britt was a part of my home. She became my family. She was no longer a friend, and to be honest, I don’t think she ever was. There’s this quote, “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime,” and I knew Britt was in mine for a lifetime.
Feeling moist lips leaving a kiss along my neck, I knew I would have a mint scented lip-gloss stain. “I’m going to be all sticky now!” I protested with a laugh.
Leaning away from my neck, she smiled. “You’ll survive, Miss Diva.” Slowly Britt stopped laughing and closed her eyes. Opening her eyes, I saw unshed tears in them, and giving me a small smile, she whispered, “I love you, Patrick.”
Closing my eyes, I lowered my head. I was so lucky to have Britt in my life. Through every struggle I had ever had, Britt was always there for me. She gently lifted up my head with her fingertips. My tears fell freely onto my face.
Britt wiped away the tears on my face.
Catching my breath, I whispered, “I love you too, Britt babe.” And I always would.
Staring back at my best friend, I thought about when Britt and I first met and how in that moment my life changed forever.
***
Sitting outside with the sun hitting my face, I watched as cars drove by in the front yard of my grandparents’ house. It had been just a week since Momma died. The funeral was the hardest part of the entire thing. Not that her death was a “thing,” but death is something else, you know? You’re in a fog the entire time. Of course you get up, get ready, do everything you’re supposed to do. However, you don’t actually feel like you’re living. In a way a piece of you has died along with them and slowly but surely you “move on.” You get used to the fact that their body is no longer on this earth but in some way their spirit is.
Always will be.
Of course I had said goodbye in the hospital, but to know that she was actually in that carved, wooden box was a huge struggle for me. My grandparents had decided that a picture of her, papa, and me would go on the top of the box. A remembrance of a time when she was healthy and beautiful. It’s a contradiction though really, because I think physically and mentally, Momma was beautiful. However, the time that she was struggling for breath, struggling to stay alive for me, was the most beautiful time. She never once complained or felt sorry for herself. She thought about everyone else’s needs and how everyone else would move on after she was gone. Gone from us physically, but never mentally.
As I sat in the pew in the front of the church, I listened as the pastor talked about how amazing my momma was. How she lit up a room. How she brought good to the bad. The only thing I could think about was how I wished he actually knew all of those things about her and wasn’t just preaching them. Once he had finished, it was finally my turn. I had written Momma a letter that I wanted everyone to hear. I wanted everyone to remember her the way I would always remember her.
Breaking me from my memory, I hear a little girl ask, “What are you doing?”
Looking up from the blades of grass I’m pulling on between my fingers, I see a little girl with bright, blonde hair and these beautiful blue eyes looking down at me with a curious face. She’s smiling at me and she has her hands on her hips.
Shaking my head and sniffling, I say, “Nothing.”
I just want to be left alone but I know that’s not going to happen because out of the corner of my eye, I see her sit down next to me., “I’m Britt Thomas,” she says.
Lifting my head and turning in her direction, I say, “I’m Pat Christiansen.” I extend my hand to introduce myself but she looks down at my hand and then looks back up at me like I’m a weirdo. I think maybe she doesn’t want to be my friend, but the second I take my hand away from her, she jumps into my lap and wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a huge hug.
I don’t know what to do and I’m guessing she’s an alien or something. The second I think that she lifts her head away from me and says, “Well, give me a hug, best friend.”
***