My Best Friend's Ex

A few months ago, I thought I finally had everything I ever wanted. Now, as I lay on the shower floor, hugging my knees to my emaciated body, like a newborn baby in the fetal position, I wondered, how did I get here? When did my life veer so far off course? How did I lose myself so much that I was wasting away a bit more each day? I didn’t recognize the person that I had become; I wasn’t proud of who I was. I was alone, and the one person I loved most was gone. I sat in silence, letting the hot drops of water bounce off my bare body. My stomach ached for the food I had denied it for so long. It ached for the meal I had just vomited into the shower drain. I felt like I was slowly dying inside and out. What have I done?   Chapter 1 It was the summer before my senior year and my seventeenth birthday, and here I was stuck staring into the depths of my toilet. Of all days, this day should have made me feel special. But a terrible feeling gnawed at my stomach. It was the feeling you have moments before you vomit. You know it’s there, but it simply won’t come out. If you could just expel it from within, you would feel infinitely better, but your body won’t release it yet. I have always been like this for as long as I can remember. Some people react to nerves by sweating. I, on the other hand, get sick, to the point where I can spend tens of minutes hovering over a toilet, retching, waiting to hurl the butterflies out of my body. This is how I’m reacting to the news that my mother, and my best friend, Libby, are throwing me a surprise sweet-seventeen birthday party today. I’m not supposed to know, but I had figured it out. Most people have sweet sixteen birthday parties, but not me.  It was like my mother, and my best friend didn’t know me at all because if they did, they would know a surprise party is the last thing I would ever want. There are two things that I can’t stand: parties in my honor and surprises. The only thought that keeps running through my mind is, why would they put me through such torture when they know I hate this kind of thing? It’s weird how staring in a toilet can suddenly make you have deep existential thoughts about your life. One’s mind can start to wander when looking into a porcelain abyss.   Random thoughts of the movie “The Duff” run through my mind. Yep, that’s me; I’m the designated ugly fat friend.  In fact, “The Duff” is my spirit animal, but you wouldn’t know that if you saw me in school. A stranger watching me in the hallways would think I was lucky because I had an in with the “it” crowd, always surrounded by people, never having to worry about where I would sit in the cafeteria, always having someone to talk to in class. Yeah, most people would think I have it good at school. I did hang with the popular kids, but I was always on the outside of the group looking in. I never quite fit in. Sure, I  got invited to parties, but I was more of a plus one.  If Libby went to a party, it was just a given that I would be there too because we were a packaged deal. However, with this surprise party, I was going to have to stand on my own and hope people showed up for me, and I have a terrible feeling my party is going to be an epic fail. I can see it now Libby, mom, and me sitting around my dining room table with a cake in the center waiting as the clock ticks by, and not one person shows up. Libby and mom will do their best to cheer me up and make excuses about how it’s the middle of summer, and lots of people are on vacation or couldn’t get away from their summer jobs. Then I’ll put on the best show of my life and pretend like it doesn’t bother me that no one gives a s**t about me, so I don’t’ hurt Libby and mom’s feelings. I’ll c***k some jokes to lighten the mood and cheer them up.  My feelings won’t matter because I’ll be so focused on not disappointing them and showing them I’m okay. After all, I always have to be the one that’s okay.   Still gripping the sides of the toilet, I decided to give up any hope I had of throwing up my nerves. I’ll just have to deal with them like I always do by putting on the performance I’ve gotten used to playing every day of my life.  The show that is me, the nothing to see here show, the hide behind my humor show, the show that doesn’t allow anyone to see how I truly feel. How do I feel inside? That’s a hard one to describe, how about completely and utterly scared shitless that everyone will realize I’m a fraud and finally kick me out of the group that I fell into.  Now, when I say I fell into my social position at school, I mean just that. I don’t know how I got accepted into the “popular” group. Somehow, they had made a mistake and let me join. People seemed to like me, but I never entirely understood why. I always assumed it was because of my friendship with Libby or because I was the girl that always had a funny, sarcastic remark to make. I had a dry sense of humor that everyone seemed to enjoy. I almost felt like my “friends” kept me around solely for my entertainment value. Like “Hey, where’s that girl who always has something funny to say? She keeps things lively. I wouldn’t want to date her or hang out alone with her, but she’s great for large parties and get-togethers.” That’s how I feel most of the time—like I’m always auditioning for a part, and I have to make sure I perform on cue. I am the girl that keeps things light and fun. I’m not embarrassed about making a fool out of myself. I felt most at ease when people are laughing at me or with me; it makes me feel accepted.  I guess I get that from my dad. He has a blunt, self-deprecating type of humor. He isn’t afraid to discuss or joke about topics that most people wouldn’t dare mention. People love him because he is the sweet, down-to-earth, funny guy who has a lot of weird dirty jokes to tell. Growing up with the influence of my dad’s sense of humor, I became comfortable joking about s*x and other issues that most were afraid to mention, but trust me—I am far from experienced in any of those areas. Yes, I am comfortable making a joke about the size of a guy’s p***s, but believe me—other than seeing my little cousin’s p***s when changing his diaper, I had never seen or touched one in my entire life. I had never held a boy’s hand, kissed someone, been felt up, nothing, nada, zip, I was as pure as the newly fallen snow. It was pitiful. However, Libby had much more experience than I in all areas dealing with guys. She was beautiful, athletic, tall, and intelligent with long strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes. Libby could get any guy she wanted, and she did things with them that I had only seen in movies. So, yes—I’m saying that Libby is easy, but she isn’t your typical slut. She is a kind, loveable, and smart slut who attracted people to her like moths to a flame. Libby is the perfect girl. All the guys wanted to screw her, and all of the girls wanted to be her. Somehow by some strange twist of events and an imbalance in the universe, Libby and I had been best friends since kindergarten. I don’t remember how it started; it was just one of those things that seemed to have always been there. She lived close by—an eight-minute drive to be exact, and now she and my mother were planning my final demise before senior year. Alright, I’ve got this. Pull it together. I stood up to look in the mirror. It’s time to “man up.” However, the little voice inside me wasn’t ready to be brave just yet. Instead, I stood staring at the same short girl with the terrible wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes that I’ve stared at for the last six thousand two hundred five days of my life. I don’t know why I keep hoping something will change when I look in the mirror one day. As if I will see a completely different person—someone beautiful, someone unique, and not just your typical, slightly chunky teenager. Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not a whale, and I don’t break mirrors when I walk by, but I’m not walking around in string bikinis and flirting with all the guys, either. As I saw it, I had only two things going for me: my near-perfect complexion and my ability to hide behind my humor. Oh well,  it’s time for me to “nut up or shut up” as they would say in the movies and get the hell out of this bathroom, which has strangely become a therapy session inside my head. It’s time to get through this day that is going to be utter hell. My mother didn’t know, but about a week and a half earlier, I had pried the secret out of Libby over the phone. She gave in after hours of my whining and finally told me that I was right—she and my mother were undeniably planning a sweet seventeen birthday party. On the morning of my birthday, Libby picked me up in her brand-new bright red Ford Mustang to take me mini-golfing for my birthday present. We both knew it was just a ruse to get me out of the house so mom could decorate, and hopefully, *finger crossed*, some guests would arrive for the fabulous moment when I walked into the room, and everyone said, “Surprise!” Yay. . . I almost couldn’t contain myself. This is going to be one of the worst days of my life. I can feel it in the depths of my soul. Yes, I’m being overly dramatic, but it’s my party, and I’ll b***h if I want to. I performed my duty and went mini-golfing. I tried my best to keep on par with the course and to smile when I hit my ball into the water accidentally. Libby knew I was dying inside. She tried to keep me calm and assure me that it was going to be an awesome day. However, unlike me, she never had to worry about people not showing up to her parties. People genuinely liked her, and the guys genuinely wanted to f**k her.             Getting into Libby’s car to drive to my funeral, I mean surprise party, I started feeling sick again. This party is going to be the death of my social standing at school. Here lies the funny, chunky, forgettable chick that used to hang out with Libby Keller. What was her name again? Hearing Libby’s ringtone from her cell pulled me out of my morbid thoughts. Answering the phone, Libby mouthed it's your mom. Libby was still keeping up the act of me not knowing about the surprise party, so we didn’t ruin the excitement for my mother.  “Sure, mom, I’ll be home in about 15 minutes after I drop Alex off at her house,” she said, winking at me. I just rolled my eyes. “Okay, bye, love you” Closing her phone, Libby seemed anxious if not worried.  “What’s wrong? Did no one show up? Oh my god, this is my worst nightmare coming true. Please shoot me now. Just put me out of my misery.” However, in true Libby fashion, she responded without hesitation, “Absolutely nothing is wrong, so chill the f**k out Alex. Everything is going as planned, and you are going to have the best birthday ever!” After that, she turned the volume on the radio up and rolled the windows down, so there would be no more opportunities for me to badger her further. It’s decided I am going to be that girl who has no one show up to her surprise birthday party. I was living in a teenage hell.