Best Friends Forever - Chapter Two

I park my little BMW (yeah, yeah, I want a Merc, alright?) in an empty spot, jump out and locked the door. I glance at my watch. Four minutes past eight. Okay, so I’m technically late. 1

Upstate, upstate – keyword here. I’m talking about this swanky restaurant. Must cost an arm and a leg here – and yeah, I know the guy’s supposed to treat, but I’m privately glad Sera always picks up the tab. Architects only make so much, and I think of Big Macs when I think class food. What the hell, I never said I was a rich kid.2

I muse as I walk into the place. What’s the rush? Why the big restaurant deal? I nod at the hostess, and ask for Sera Whitebridge’s table. She points and I thank her and go my way, weaving my way past tables with couples and a few families, big-shot businessmen closing deals which I’ll probably hear about on the news a month later, and the like. 3

Not my crowd.4

******5

I always wonder how Sera and I could have become best mates. I mean, the whole different background stuff was bad enough. Her mother was some rich lady (sue me for blasphemy) and owned three cars and twice that many houses. She had had a couple of fathers – all rich and all sucked dry by her gold-digger mom. Her biological father died of heart disease when we were seventeen. 6

Frankly, she may have had the style, the swank, and the party life, but I get the feeling that she gets too tired of all that. You know, the old saying, too much of a good thing? You think you like Midas, but when you become Midas, that’s when the problem starts. 7

She was in my freshman year in uni – we both attended uni in Australia (Her dad was a true Aussie chap) – and we literally bumped into each other outside Physics I. I mean, not the sort of “bump” you see in movies, where the hero hits the heroine and the papers fall down and he picks ‘em up and she smiles and they flirt and they look and yada yada BAW-ring! 8

Me, a gangly seventeen year old, with long unkempt hair and glasses (I wear contacts now) crashed into her outside the hallway. What was I doing? My head was stuck in a book (~Insert ‘What a Nerd!!’ here~) and my brain was on autopilot mode. Not an autopilot you want to trust, by the way. No papers flying thank god, but she was very sweet about it and all.9

And as luck would have had it, we both had seats next to each other and friendship grew.10

She told me about herself and how she hated her skank mother and her lifestyle, her fake clique of sycophantic friends who simpered and stuttered at her every word. I liked her; she wasn’t all the Ice Queen as I had made her out to be. Blonde or not, she was smart. I mean, she knew her Logarithms from her Algorithms and that was way more than what all her friends in the entire state put together knew.11

We stayed in touch after uni, she went on to become a research fellow at a hospital in Manhattan, and I stayed in Perth and did my PhD. When I moved to NY, we picked up again, and stayed best friends.12

******13

I snap out of my reverie and approach Sera’s table, in a corner with a deluxe view of the city. And would you believe, they charged more for that table? Just for the view. Shucks, I could sit in my office and get the same thing, if not better.14

Wait a sec, I realise, as I near her. She’s not alone.15

There’s a guy with her. 16

Well, whatever, mate. I snap irritably at my little inner voice thingy. It’s not like she doesn’t have guys hanging over her or anything. But this was different. This was no mere guy from some upstate hotel for some one-nighters. 17

He has his arm around her shoulders. Laid back kinda guy. And she’s leaning into him, enjoying it.18

Okay. Brain whirring now.19

“Hey, Sera.” I greet her with a smile. I look at the man next to her and raise an eyebrow. “And you are …?”20

Sera laughs and motions for me to sit. I comply, suddenly aware of how I look, me in my favourite pair of old sneaks and a random coat and slacks, next to Mr. Ivy League here, in his black ensemble, leather shoes, blazer artfully hung on the back of the chair. I look at his face, and am a bit taken aback. He doesn’t seem snobby – a casual smile in my direction, which meets his black eyes. His beard is neatly trimmed on his chin, some new Big Shot fad I don’t know and don’t care about. 21

He looks like a nice guy. Is he, though? 22

I have run all this through my head in the four seconds it took me to kiss Sera hello on the cheeks and shake Mystery Person’s hand, accompanied by a smile and a nod.23

I settle in my chair and look at Sera.24

At twenty-six, she still looks a stunner. Long brown hair, curling at the edges, layered and just reaching her shoulders. Her face is open and smooth, heart-shaped and with a generous mouth, stretched in a smile. Her eyes are green and mischievous. I grin in spite of my puzzlement. 25

“So?” I ask, smiling at her, Mystery Whoever pushed away for now. “How was Rome?”26

Sera had gone to Rome on a much needed vacation away from her research, her hospital and her lab toys. She needed that one week, so she told me, and I was looking forward to hear how good it was for her.27

Yeah, it was partly my idea. 28

“Oh, it was amazing,” she replies; her silky voice rises in a merry laugh. “So many places to see, amazing people, amazing food … oh, you should come along next time, its amazing!”29

“That’s too many ‘amazing’s in one sentence!” I laugh. There’s Sera for you. When she gets going, it’s like an express train on speed.30

Ivy Leaguer clears his throat. I jump and remember he exists. I turn to Sera, looking at her expectantly.31

She toys with her wineglass. 32

“Oh, you guys haven’t met. RJ, this is Paul Fordelyn. Paul, this is Randy, or RJ, my best friend.”33

I nod at him. I’ve already shaken his hand, and I bet he regrets it.34

“So, how’d you guys … er … meet?” I ask, glancing at the menu. Steak for me, I starving. Oh wait. Who’s paying?35

“Paul’s from Hopkins in Louisiana. He was in Rome for a vacation, you know? Ha, what were the chances?” She laughs and looks at him, and he looks at her, like …36

What?37

“So … ah …” Sera blushes. 38

I frown. “So, what?” Usual RJ tact there.39

“We’re getting married.”40

I drop the menu.41

It’s the First of November, not April. What the hell?42

“RJ?” asks Sera, looking at me. 43

“Ah, well … talk about sudden, huh?” I quip. My brain’s doing a million rpms a second. 44

“Yeah, it was a great two weeks, wasn’t it, Paul?”45

“Yes, it was, darling.” His voice is Ivy League, too. Darling??46

I struggle to rein in my thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I having such a reaction to my best friend’s news? I shake my head slightly.47

“Great job, guys!” I grin, and clasp their hands. “I’m happy for you, really, Sera.”48

“Thanks a lot, RJ. Means so much coming from you,” she replies.49

“Yeah, no problem.”50

I look up and see them holding hands and smiling in some kind of way that makes me sick to my stomach. The look in her eyes … 51

It’s love. Love! 52

I drop my gaze to the glossy menu, and suddenly my appetite is gone. 53

“Er, listen, Ser, just remembered, I have to call a mate. Work, you know …”54

She nods, and waves goodbye. 55

I sneak a look back as I leave. She’s looking back at Paul. She’s kissing him.56

I turn around, and clatter down the steps.57

I lean against my car and breathe deeply. Doesn’t help. Air’s polluted here, anyways.58

Why couldn’t I be happy for her? 59

I look through the misted up glass at them, looking so comfortable with each other, and suddenly, in my stomach, there springs a deep ache. 60

It stays there for a bit … and then moves up to my heart.61