A Sometimes Ending Love

A Sometimes Ending Love (Part Three)

I have to admit, as much fun as California had been, it was good to be home.  My mom had cried when I got home, and even my dad seemed really happy to see me.  It felt good to sleep in my own bed again and be able to see my own room every morning when I wake up.  It was great to see Amanda again, too.  I called her as soon as I pulled into my driveway, and the first thing she said was, “I’m already here.”

   She promptly ran out of my house and jumped on me and we were both talking and laughing at the same time, and it felt amazing.  I had loved spending summer with my cousins, don’t get me wrong, but they didn’t know everything about me, they couldn’t tell when I was lying, and they couldn’t always make me smile when all I really wanted to do was cry.  Amanda had been there for me through everything, and was the first one I told about Owen.  She, without delay, walked out of my house, found Owen, and punched him, once in the face, and once in the gut.  After that, she came back toting two gallons of Ben and Jerry’s, and we watched all the stupid comedies we could find.  For the next two weeks she referred to him as “he who must not be named.”  This is why we are best friends.  Not many would have put up with all the unreasonable things I did and said.  In fact, some of my friends didn’t.  A few of my so-called friends told me to get over it and to come back to hang out with them when I was fun again.  I decided against it.  Amanda, though, stood by me through everything.  Even when I was in California, she would call me or text me at least once a day telling me something absolutely ridiculous, just to make sure I smiled occasionally, minimum.  Friends like that aren’t easy to find. 

   Now we were sitting on my bed watching one of our all time favorite movies, Mean Girls.  No matter your thoughts on Lindsey Lohan, you have to admit that is a great movie.  I mean, what other movie has characters trying to make “fetch” happen?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.  As the credits began to roll, Amanda turned to look at me and said, “So I may have some sort of summer romance to talk to you about.”

  She looked incredibly guilty as she said this, and I began to mentally freak out.  Oh my God, she couldn’t be dating Owen!

  As if she had just read my thoughts she quickly added, “It’s not Owen, don’t worry.  It’s actually, um, Chase.”

  At this confession, her face turned bright red.  She had been in love with Chase for years.  They had never been best friends or anything; they were generally thought of as acquaintances.  Whenever they had talked, he had always been a gentleman, and she had always blushed and stuttered her way through the conversation.  It was about time something happened between them.   

   “Oh my gosh!  This is so exciting!  Why didn’t you tell me before?  Okay, actually, never mind, give me the details first, and then you can explain to me why you withheld the information to me,” I exclaimed, and she seemed relieved. 

   “I was kind of worried that you would be upset because, well, you and Owen are normally together during the summer and now you aren’t, and here I am, disobeying the “screw-boys-because-they-all-suck” best friends’ post-breakup rule,” Amanda admitted, and to her surprise, I laughed.  We had come up with this great rule book when we were ten, and we still thought that we would find true love at age fourteen or something.  I’m pretty sure one of our rules was that we each couldn’t get married until we were eighteen years and thirteen days old.  Don’t ask me where the thirteen days came from, but back then we were so convinced that getting married before we even graduated high school would be a big problem.  For the longest time when Owen and I were together, she would tease me and say, “When you plan your wedding, for God’s sake, remember the thirteen days!”  It embarrassed me to no end, because no one else had seen the book, and everyone always asked me what Amanda meant.