 |
|||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
jenelle I had this friend in college, her name was Jenelle. She was my suitemate, and I was intimidated by her confidence and beauty, I barely spoke to her at first. About a month into first semester of freshman year, I got really sick and had to be hospitalized for over a week. When I was released, I was told to go back to the dorm and rest for two weeks. I woke up one afternoon, and Jenelle was sitting cross-legged on the floor near my bed, doing her homework. She was basically watching over me, this girl she barely knew. We talked when I was awake, and she stayed when I was sleeping. After I got better, we were inseparable. We skipped classes together and slept in the same bed most times (no, not a lesbian thing) even though she was my "suitemate", meaning we shared a bathroom with her roommate, Leslie. We used to jokingly call Leslie on the phone, although she was steps away from us, and ask, "Can Jenelle spend the night?" like kids call home to ask their moms. Jenelle was (and probably still is) incredibly beautiful...people used to stop her on the street when we'd go to Chicago and ask her, "Brooke, why did you dye your hair blonde?"...they thought she was Brooke Shields. I used to feel like chopped liver next to her. But she was such a nice person, she wasn't conceited at all. In fact, as it turns out, she had insecurities of her own. She never seemed to sleep. I remember coming out into the hallway of our dorm many nights from "our" room (my assigned roommate, Sophia, had since basically moved in with her boyfriend) and Jenelle was sitting there (she sat in the hallway to "study") surrounded by wrappers from junk food. I didn't think much of it. I went back to sleep. Her weight went up and down, but, again, I didn't think much of it. After all, we were all battling the "freshman fifteen" thing. We spent a year as best friends. We were supposed to room together sophomore year. I was doing a stint as a camp counselor in New Mexico that summer when I got a call at the main office...it was Jenelle. She was sorry, but she was going to spend a semester in France. I was devastated (I remember a night of crying my eyes out to a cool older guy named Grant who was a veteran counselor at that camp), but quickly lined up a new roommate. I felt abandoned by Jenelle, but the year went on, and Kristen (my new roommate) and I became good friends. Jenelle had a good time in France, and wrote us often. I, in the meantime, had decided to leave our very conservative college and go home to Arizona. The night Jenelle came back to the States is weirdly laughable...we (her friends) were supposed to pick her up from Detroit Airport. I had the best car of us all, a lovely red Prelude, but it needed new brakes, and being in Michigan and all, no-one knew what to do with a car made in Japan. Especially in my college town of 10,000. So, I had driven it to the closest town, Jackson, where my lovely grandfather had offered me his car, SO fucking nice of him, seriously! Love my grandpappy. Anyhow, I was now driving this van that had curtains on the windows and a table to play bridge on, and on the spare tire cover it had his Mason's Club stickers...not the coolest wheels! So we decided to make it a party-mobile. We had about 10 girls in there to welcome Jenelle back to the States, and everyone was drinking but me (I'm driving, remember) and the ice on the roads was scaring the shit out of me, plus, I'm used to driving a Prelude, not a van! Everyone is cracking up over the party-van, and I'm just hoping I won't slide into anything. Anyhow, we arrived there alive. And Jenelle was there, alive and well. Jenelle had just found out that her grandmother had died while she was abroad. When we got back to the dorm, she found out that her other grandmother was about to die. She was upset. I didn't know what to do for her. I don't know how we ended up sitting in my grandfather's van in the freezing cold in the parking lot of a supermarket, just the two of us...but she started crying. She started saying, "I don't know what to do" and I didn't understand. Then she showed me the marks on her hands from bulimia. She said, "I have been doing this for a long time." She was sobbing, and I didn't understand enough to hold her, I was confused. I still wish I could do that night over and know what to do. But, I ended up leaving that college days later, and she and I grew apart and ultimately lost touch. I hope she is doing great. I miss her. Miss These?
|
|||||
