You Can Do Anything

I've always believed that I have a sixth sense. I'm no fortune teller, I've got no crystal ball; but every so often an energy just comes through so clearly, with such strength, and such force, that I know that something has happened before anyone even tells me. That's how I knew S had died before I even picked up the phone that day.

It was the weirdest thing. It gives me goose bumps even now, more than six years later. It was a Tuesday afternoon. I was at work. We had caller ID and I saw a local number come up. Although I didn't recognize the number, just seeing it, I knew something was wrong. And when I picked up and K said "Hello" I just knew. The only part of the conversation that I remember clearly was me, saying, "Please. Please, just don't tell me what you're about to tell me. I don't want to know."

S was only 30. Less than a month shy of her 31st birthday. But let me tell you, that girl lived more in her almost 31 years than most people will live in 70. It was like she knew.

We met in high school as freshmen. We didn't become close friends until our sophomore year when we both started working at the Tummy Stuffer at the same time. We got into so much trouble at work together. They started scheduling us different shifts.

Senior year, S and I liked to ditch school together. (Which was so pointless, seriously, we only had morning classes, but whatever, we were young and dumb.) We were both suffering from broken hearts at the time. We had each been unceremoniously dumped by the loves of our lives. We drove around town in her red Toyota Celica listening to Sinead O'Connor singing "Nothing Compares 2 U"over and over again, crying our little broken-hearted eyes out. I'll never forget the time we actually ditched by walking right out the front door of the attendance office. We couldn't believe we weren't caught, though the campus narc had chased us all over campus. (We even sought sanctuary in the library, where we were kicked out because we didn't have passes.)

Shortly after high school, my parents split up. Since at 18, my life as I knew it was over, I did the only thing I could think of, I moved out. S and I got a place together. Oh my God. We were so excited. We felt so grown up. (I remember the first time we paid rent. Neither one of us had ever held that much cash at once. We threw it up in the air and danced around in it.) We paid all of $495 a month for a brand new 2 bedroom apartment, with a full size washer and dryer. (Un-freaking-believable. I pay more than twice that now for half of a 2 bedroom apartment.) Since the apartment was brand new it had some minor electrical issues. We blew every fuse in the place. They put us up in a model apartment for a night while they fixed ours. Somehow, we managed to flood the model apartment.

Our poor downstairs neighbor. He had a wife and two young kids, and the unfortunate luck of living below a couple of teenage girls in their very first apartment. When we got too out of hand G would bang on the ceiling with a broom. I don't think he was too happy when a couple of guys serenaded us right in front of his kids' window. (I hate that I can't remember who they were. I hate that I can't call S and ask her to remind me.)

A couple of years later, S and I moved to Tahoe together. It was an impulsive move. I had never even been there before. S, as always, led the way. We moved in with a gaggle of girls neither one of us had ever met. Let's just say it was a learning experience for both of us. We had agreed to live in Tahoe for a year. I ended up staying the better part of eight. S, even longer.

Throughout my years in Tahoe, S remained the constant in my life. Through countless boyfriends, roommates, jobs. We weren't always close, we didn't even speak every day, but I always knew she was there. Tahoe is such a transient community, it was nice to know I always had someone on my side.

Like the time when I was in Davis, 4th of July weekend, having a nervous breakdown for many, many reasons. S drove all the way down to get me.

Or the time I got hit by a car in front of Harrah's. S drove me to the hospital. (I was too afraid to get into the ambulance. I didn't have any health insurance. I could only imagine how much that would have cost.)

S and I always had a motto. We could do anything; anything we wanted to. Nothing was impossible. She subtly reminded me of this when I got accepted into Davis. I called her, all excited, and she was just totally blase about the whole thing. Like, whatever. When I asked her "What the hell? Aren't you excited for me?" She said, "Of course you got in. I never thought you wouldn't. You can do anything."

The summer before S passed we were both living in Southern California. I'm so glad I got the chance to spend some time with her. We hung out many times over that summer and I cherish those memories. The last time I spoke to her was my birthday that year; well, really a month after my birthday. She never could remember whether my birthday was in September or October.

I still don't know how or why, when I got that call on that Tuesday afternoon in December, I knew that she was gone. To be honest, I thought it was a car accident. Turned out S had a brain tumor. Luckily, it happened quickly, though. She went into the hospital on a Friday afternoon and by Monday night she had passed. I miss her terribly and think about her each and every day.