Making It Up

Today, I told a story.  It was not true. 

But it was not a lie. 

It was fiction.


We brainstormed new stories for our fiction class today. My friend Kelli, who is in my group, said that she wanted to be my main character. My friend Kelsey, who is also in my group, said that if Kelli got to be in it then she wanted to be too.

My friends.

My past creeps into my present every now and then as I head toward the future, at just the right speed. Today, the past came in the form of a phone call from a now married friend who graduated last year. She is coming and wants to spend the night with me. Hearing her voice, even in message form, reminds me of last year when I would walk down the hall in my pajamas and curl up on her floor or couch. We would talk. We would talk about her getting married and me wanting a boyfriend. We would eat cereal and popcorn. 

She was there when I wanted to have a boy over to watch Indiana Jones (she and her fiance chaperoned) she was there when my heart got broken right before my birthday last year. She offered physical harm to the guy who did it. 

She came for Homecoming this Fall and we talked, sitting in Payne's and sipping coffee like we used to. She was married, and just the same. I had very recently started dating. She warned me about saying "I love you" too fast. She looked at pictures and giggled with me.

Now, she will come and stay. I will convince her that I am fine (breakup or no) and I will be right. She will tell me about her job and her husband. We will talk about marriage and how I want a boyfriend. Only this time, it will be in my room, and she will be curled up on the couch for the night. 

This is not fiction.

This is real life. 

All of the girls in my writing group are in it. 

Me too.