The One that Got Away

The drinks were frothy and delicious, and I was enjoying mine while sitting on a small tuffet next to a Moroccan Coffee Table.  Focused on the glamorous arrivals, I could tell we were with the popular crowd because they were all wearing bracelets that glittered and jiggled.  Even more telling, laughs were sparkling more than drinks, which they somehow sipped without leaving red lipstick on the glass. 

So this is life in my new state, I thought to myself, and felt a twinge of loneliness in the crowd.  Before I could fully concentrate on how much of an outsider I was, I saw her.  She was beautiful like the others, but with a face I knew and hoped to see again someday.  In middle school my best friend moved away to reluctantly embrace life as a California Girl, and I had not seen her again until this moment.

She was truly a long lost friend.  Moving away before the ease of email (much less Facebook) could keep us in contact, we had exchanged several letters.  But the years of our friendship became distant, bonds frayed, and our connection finally severed.  Every once in a while I would remember how my childhood is linked to hers and would try random searches.  No contact information was forthcoming, and with a sigh I accepted that she was just part of my past.    

She sat down on an adjacent tuffet and started talking like we had seen each other last week.  For some reason it was hard for her to understand how amazed I was at this unexpected reunion, and so I tried to be casual and kept my exclamations in check.  We had so much catching up to do, but in mere minutes, the doorman came and announced that her limo had arrived.  As she stood to go, I cried, “Wait! Let me at least get your phone number.”  I searched in my pocket for paper and writing utensils but could only scavenge up a goldfish cracker – an escapee from an earlier snack.  “Here, scratch it out on this,” I said, and handed her the lone fish.  Her exquisite nails were perfect for carving in tiny numbers and she laughed as she handed me the tiny cracker tablet.

I watched her exit, surrounded by vivacious friends, obviously living a golden life in the Golden State.  She gracefully got into the limo and gave me a little wave before closing the door.  As the car drove away, I looked down at the note in my hand.  Before I had a chance to decipher the numbers, the little fish crumbled into a million bits.  The limo disappeared around the corner, and all I had of our future friendship was a handful of crumbs.