Rachel

My best friend since I was born practically has always been Rachel. Bright, happy, irrepressible, gorgeous Rachel. Rachel of the shining auburn hair, smiling face and twinkling blue eyes. We were born a week apart and often felt as close as sisters. I often proudly proclaimed that her house was the first one I went to after being born--before my parents even took me home! I was so happy with our friendship and felt lucky to know her even though sometimes, she didn't treat me as well as she should. Still, as we got older, I made excuses for her, refusing to believe that I was being treated unfairly. 1

In grade three, she left our private Jewish school and went to a public one, leaving me behind. I felt so abandoned. She said that it was because our school wasn't challenging enough for her, but I felt that it was something I had done. It was my fault that she was going; I had driven her away. Obviously I was a stupid child and thought that the world revolved around me. Still, I wanted to be a good friend, so every time her dad came to pick my sisters and me up for school--we carpooled--I asked after my friend. He said she was fine, enjoying her new school, blossoming and growing. I was happy for her. 2

By the time junior high approached I was ready for a change. Grade seven came near and I was delighted to find out that Rachel would be attending the same one as me! Our friendship was renewed that year and we spent many days catching up, laughing and playing. We went swimming on Friday nights, watching out for cute boys glancing our way. Of course they all looked at Rachel and never at me. I was sometimes jealous of her ease with guys and her good looks, but never for long. I was happy with myself. 3

Grade seven was a good year, a golden year. Rachel shone bright, taking over leadership activities, wearing rainbow colours and constantly bringing a smile to people's faces. I'm not sure where or when it started to go wrong, but I believe it was grade eight, or the end of it. Rachel suddenly lost a lot of weight. She said that it was through diet and exercise and that she felt great but a lot of my friends were wary. She insisted that she never felt better in her life and so we let the issue lie. The memories are foggy for me now though the pain of the next year stays with me. The timeline isn't specific, but through our grade nine year, Rachel got very sick. She partied with her older brother--by now in grade eleven at high school--drank and did drugs. I found out as well that she was cutting herself. I had no idea what to do. Sometimes, she would lie to her parents to go meet boys. I don't know what she did with them and I didn't ask. However every time she asked me to go out with her and then went out with a guy beforehand, I was anxious. 4

I remember one time she told her dad that we were going swimming and then sleeping over at my house. We were going swimming, but at six. She left the house at four, telling me that she would meet me at the pool. Rachel was going to hang out with a guy from just outside the city, someone who she had never met before, only talked with online and on the phone. I was worried sick. When at six, she didn't show up, I waited. Rachel was not always one for punctuality. Still by six-fifteen I was beginning to get anxious. Of course horrible scenarios of child rapists ran through my mind. I didn't know whether I should call somebody or if I should just keep quiet. What if she didn't come? What if she just never showed? Could I tell her parents? Could I tell mine? I didn't like being her alibi and didn't want to lie to anyone. When six-thirty rolled around and Rachel showed up, I was furious. I told her that I was glad she was okay, but that the only reason I was still at the pool was to see her. She could go home since I was doing the same. I was so mad at her for using me as an alibi and then completely disregarding my feelings that I didn't want to have anything to do with her. However she wasn't my best friend for nothing. She apologized, begging me to forgive her and promising that it had all been worth it. She blamed rush hour, traffic, his getting there late, and her really liking him. Rachel blamed everyone but herself. Funnily enough this was before the weight loss. Needless to say I gave in and we went swimming and slept over.5

After Rachel lost the weight, we all noticed that she wasn't eating as much. She who had once finished eating first of all my friends was suddenly only bringing a banana or a yogurt to last her the entire day. And we knew that she skimped on breakfast. My other friends and I did what we could, but there was only so much that could be done. When she went into the hospital in grade nine, I felt awful. My dad told me where she was and I suddenly got so scared that something had happened to her because of all the guys, or because she cut herself or something like that. I felt afraid and guilty because I hadn't told anyone what she was doing. I kept my mouth shut about all of it. We went to visit her right away at the Children's Hospital and I stayed for hours. I hadn't seen her in a while but she seemed all right. Grade nine consisted of her going in and out of the hospital, of group homes and her own home. Her parents split up that year which came at the worst time possible and I'm pretty sure that her brother is gay. After a while, when she didn't return my calls or want me to visit nor did she email, I became sad. Where was the best friend I had grown up with? We planned a visit one day and I had my mom drive me to the Hospital. When I showed up however, she wasn't there. She was in therapy. I was shocked and hurt that she had told me to come to see her at a time when she knew she wouldn't be there. I waited fifteen minutes or so and then got tired. Then angry. I was furious with how she was treating me; as if my feelings didn't matter! I called my mom and she came and got me. I was so mad I probably would have yelled at her and I am one of the most timid people I know. 6

Of course I don't know the half of what she went and has gone through. I know that she has had sex with multiple guys. I know that she binges, drinks, throws up and parties. She struggles and I think that she wants to get better but I know it's hard. We've lost touch. I just...didn't know what to say after a while and she didn't give me any clues. She didn't seem to want me in her life and no matter how hard I tried it always came to nothing. So I stopped pushing. I've never stopped being her friend, nor caring but I've stopped trying so hard. If she ever deals with her issues I'll be here. If she doesn't, I'll still be here, ready as ever to help her along. I miss her so much--my childhood playmate and my teenage friend. I wanted to share my life with her and go through high school with her at my side. Instead I have to worry about her and hear through others how she's doing. Whether she overdosed on drugs or drank herself into a stupor, or caught an STD from a guy or stopped eating all together. There's so much I want to tell her and so much I can't. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to talk about. Whenever I tried I always felt as if I was fumbling around and just making matters worse. I didn't know whether I should talk about her or my life. I had no idea whether normal activities was a safe place or if that topic would remind her of things she didn't have. I can't tell her my problems any more because they are so much less than the burdens she has to bear. When before I could tell her anything, now I tell her nothing. There is a wall of silence stretching between us. I know she's there, on the other side and I wish that I could just break down the wall but I can't. 7

A theory that used to comfort me was that she didn't want to talk to me and tell me what she was going through because she was ashamed. She didn't want me to think less of her and she didn't want me to judge. It was this idea that kept me from screaming at her to talk to me already! I don't know whether I still believe it. I'm not even sure whether she ever cared enough about my opinion to not want to disappoint me.8

The person who Rachel is is complicated. She is smart--so smart--even with the drugs and the abuse she puts her body through. Her hair, once long and luscious and healthy is fried from the constant straightening iron. Her bones can be seen through her pale, translucent skin. However she cares about her grades and about certain friends. I just never made it on that top list. 9

Someday I hope that things will be better for her. She is a strong person and--hopefully--a survivor. When she is ready, she will come back to me again and we will be friends. I hope. I haven't lost my friend forever; she is just dawdling on the path, straying a little. She'll come back though. I hope. And when she does I also hope that things will not be off limits any more. That the barriers will come down and everything I have wanted to say to her will come out. That she will allow me into her world. 10

Rachel was my best friend. Now she's a skeleton. 11

She was the most beautiful baby. Now she's a pale and angsty teen. 12

She had rosy cheeks and healthy glowing skin. Now you can see her bones through her papery thin tissue and the makeup is the only colour on her face. 13

I'm waiting for Rachel and waiting for the time when nothing is taboo anymore. I'm not quite waiting for things to go back to the way they were--they never can--but I'm waiting simply for Rachel. My best friend, a week older than me is years away right now. However, time will adjust and Rachel and I will be in the same place. I don't know when, and I don't know how. I just know. Or I hope.