Karen always gave me cigarettes when I needed one. And she was always there if I needed to vent or tell her about my accomplishments. I can’t tell you how many times she did things for me when we worked together. Still, she was pretty useless as far as friends went.
I never could get her to babysit. I know she only met my kids once but come on. Nor would she run my errands for me, as if she were actually always busy writing. Everyone knows writers spend most of their time on Twitter. Likewise, she refused to help me get my cousin’s car from another city, giving me some nonsense about how driving for two hours would hurt her back. I mean, didn’t she have surgery to get that crap fixed? Her excuses were nauseating.
It’s not like I asked for favors very often, only once every four-six months. We didn’t even talk very often so I don’t know how she could say I was always trying to take advantage of her friendship. Okay, those weren’t her exact words, but that’s how I heard it, and she hurt my feelings. I’m still angry at her for making me feel guilty. Of course, I don’t only call her when I want something!
I did everything Karen ever asked of me, although at the moment I can’t seem to recall any of those things. Odd, now that I think about it, she never really did talk about herself. How inconsiderate she was. You know, I don’t believe she even told me her birthday. The nerve of that woman! We were friends for almost ten years. You’d think she would have shared more of herself. After all, she knew everything about me.
Anyway, this time she’s done the last and shittiest thing she’s ever done to me. I tried to call her to ask her to take my Grandmother to get a pedicure, and her phone was disconnected. My message on Facebook went unanswered. I finally contacted her brother only to find out Karen had passed away, a year ago! She didn’t even tell me she was sick, at least, I don’t think she did.
Now who’s going to take Grammy to her appointment? What a useless friend she was.
Rough draft 379 words
This story was inspired by a phone conversation I had today. Someone made me very angry (enough to use the word ‘very’ when I’m trying to remove it from all my writing). When I get upset I tend to vent by turning bits of the situation into fiction. If the person who I’m unhappy with reads this post they will know they were the catalyst so it’s safe to say the story is only about 50% fiction.
Still, I owe that person my gratitude. It took them pissing me off before my muse put in an appearance for the first time in too long. It’s not much of a story and the situation half wrote it but I did the rest so I’m claiming this one!
So, from a useless friend to my current antagonist, have a mental middle finger of thankfulness from me to you!