by J. Paxton

Created on: December 21, 2008

Yesterday, while out shopping with my cousin, I did something I hate to do: I took a call. I am usually incredibly stubborn about using my cell phone in public; I find it terribly annoying to try and talk over all the other noise, and I do acknowledge the fact that no one really wants to hear my shouted conversation into the phone. But the caller ID read "Lacey", my ex-coworker and friend who I hadn't talked to in about a year (other than the occasional impersonal Facebook message). I answered quickly, a smile breaking across my face. "Lace?!"

"Jen. Hi. Omigosh, have you heard about Craig?!"

I sighed, somewhat disappointed and hurt. Not even a false pretense of asking how I was or what I was doing these days (I had moved twice since we had last spoken.) Craig was a mutual friend who worked with us, who also happened to be my ex-boyfriend. When I found out he was dating another shared friend, I asked to be cut out of the loop. After a rough couple months of personal issues, I knew the last thing I needed to hear was about the happy couple. Lacey in particular had difficultly accepting this request, as it cut out two of the things she thrived on the most: gossip and drama. Throughout the year, I received a couple of texts from her, usually something along the lines of "Are you suuure we can't talk about it?" or "I found something out, do you want to know?". My own streak of teenage girl that hasn't died out just quite yet would immediately flare, a combination of jealously and insane curiosity. Each message she sent tested my self-restraint, as I forced myself not to ask what was going on and repeat the same line over and over: "I don't want to be involved".

"No Lace. And I don't want to know."

"But JEN, c'mon, I heard that he and-"

My maturity was slipping away quickly. "Lace, I don't want to hear anymore about him or her or that whole group of people, you know they're all crazy."

I heard an exaggerated snort. "Yeah, and you're not? YOU'RE the crazy one."

My cousin looked at me awkwardly-I'm sure the absolute anger showed in my flushed cheeks. It was like someone had spit in my face, as the remark was a clear, pointed reference to the severe panic attacks I suffered from a couple years ago. At the time, I was unequipped to deal with them, and they were the talk amongst our workplace. The teenage girl in me flared up.

"I can't talk right now, bye."

I hung up, shaken and upset, but not entirely surprised how the conversation had gone. Over the four years I've known Lacey, my emotions have known every extreme, depending on the story (and the person) she decided to focus her energy on. It wasn't until I took a step back out of the atmosphere we shared and the group we were surrounded by that I saw how unhealthy her need for constant drama was.

My cousin raised an eyebrow. "Everything OK?"

I looked at the phone in my hand. Silence. Lacey wasn't calling back to check on me, ask what was wrong, nothing. I hit "Delete contact" and looked back up.

"Yup. Is now."

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