She’s fine. She’s witty. She’s intelligent. She’s attractive. She’s my friend and though she’s drinking herself to death, she’s fine.
Months ago, we talked daily, for hours on end. She is easy to talk to, quick to listen, quick to make me laugh. When my mother was dying, she was there. Listening, comforting, consoling and joking. She thought she didn’t have anything to offer. She offered more than most. If we had nothing else in common, we did our drinking. She does what I did and she does it just as well.
Without explanation, without excuse, she stopped talking to me and she blocked me.
Last week, she contacted me asking for help. She described her symptoms: convulsions, puking daily, nausea, itchy/rough dry skin, fatigue, sweating, etc. I suggested she get help. She said she would…until the next day. “How are you?” I asked. “Fine. Don’t call, don’t text, don’t contact me. I’m fine.”
Considering she’s half the country away and won’t answer her phone (I didn’t respect her wishes) there’s little I can do. I’m powerless, powerless over people, powerless over places, powerless over fine.
Btw, I’m fucked-up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. In other words, I’m fine and so is she.
