My name is Anna and I'm a total failure.
Okay, maybe it's a bit of a dramatization but at 24 almost 25 years of age, let's just say I expected more than what I currently have. I wasn't asking for much, just following what everyone called common sense: do well in school and you'll get a job. Get a job and you can afford a place to live. Settle down and be set for the rest of your life in happiness.
Yeah, well, I'm not sure if you've taken a look out the window lately but good jobs are hard to come by. A nice place to live is doubly so. And you know what? I'm flexible! I'm open minded! If the job isn't that great, I'll grit my teeth through it to pay the bills. If the place isn't that nice, I'll patch it up a bit and live with less heating and no AC. My momma called me "resilient", which is PC parent-speak translating to "stop whining" - I am very good at not whining. I'll just take the next best thing.
Except at this point, I don't have a 'next best thing'. My roommate, my 'trusty' reliable roommate Sammy (yes, I am using your name) decided to move in with her boyfriend of six months. Okay, great, years of camaraderie just down the drain because some guy with a great dick comes along and asks you to live with him. Glad to see 'bros before hoes' doesn't apply to us, feminism is alive and well here ladies and gentlemen. And for the record, I am not bitter at all.
And because one shit thing can only ever be followed up with a second shit thing, I was 'let go' from my job. Actually, my contract was not renewed, which technically means I was not re-hired but how does that even fucking matter when at the end of the day I don't have a job? So let me spell this out for you: I am going to be paying full rent on something I paid splitsies for years, with money I don't have from a job I'm not employed in.
So, of course, the first thing I did was freak out about it. There were maybe three hours of lamenting about my life, two hours imagining what living on the streets would be like, then two hours of trying to muster up the courage to tell my parents. I took a quick snack break and went right back to uselessly ruminating about this shit. I dedicated about 30 minutes to pose an imaginary conversation with my parents on how I am absolutely not moving back in with them, complete with hysterics and crying. I am a full grown 25 year old woman, dammit, I will be taken seriously.
I called a girlfriend that was emphatically not Sammy and begged her to come live with me, which would mean her moving out from the place she lived in with her boyfriend. Then it struck me - not only was I miserably broke and going to be homeless, I was also single. Painfully, hopelessly, uselessly single. The realization was so shocking that I barely heard my friend Lindsey go, "Hey, did you call James?"
Anyone who knew me long enough also knew James. We were two peas in a pod back in elementary school, despite all my other friends being girls and all his other friends being boys. We were this social bridge between the groups and did all these stupid, "Heyyy does your friend Bobby like Sarah?" exchanges for our friends up until high school when people started growing the balls to ask themselves. Everyone thought we were dating in high school to the point we didn't even bother correcting them. We even chose to go to the same university halfway across the country from our hometown.
And then... university happened, I guess. I was dating this guy in first year and I guess I didn't make it a priority to hang out with friends. Well damn, I guess I'm a total fucking hypocrite to shit on Sammy. It wasn't like we didn't talk; we both got caught up in school, each made our own friends within our own area of study. Just the classic pattern of friendships being put on the back shelf.
I had maybe three hundred reasons not to ask for his help, the first and foremost being: it felt shitty. Like I wasn't really a great friend for the last five to seven years and now I want to ask for help? And wouldn't it be weird if he had a girlfriend right now? How was he even going to help me? I didn't even know I was saying all this aloud until Lindsey gave a really annoyed,"Why. Don't. You. Just. Fucking. Ask. Him?"
So I called him. I did it immediately after hanging up with Lindsey before I could chicken out. I almost chickened out on the second ring but then he picked up and I had to commit. I did the most awkward thing I could do and did this whole, "Oh yeah... just calling to say hi..." Which he could tell was 1000% bullshit since I always just text him if I ever communicate with him. Which was rarely, if ever.
"Annie, what's wrong?" he asked.
Annie. He called me that back in elementary school and I wouldn't let anyone else call me that. All at once, I thought about how much I missed him and how horrible I was to fuck up our friendship like that. I thought about how lonely I was and how we used to talk about everything and anything. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by this congestion of emotions right at my throat and I just bawled.
Between sobs I could hear him get more and more agitated on the other end. In the end, he just goes "stay where you are," and hangs up while I'm blowing snot into a wet Kleenex. Before I know it, he's at my door, ringing the bell and sounding more stressed than ever. I opened the door before the neighbors complained; just seeing him standing there made me cry harder.
He looked different. He wasn't the lanky, soft-spoken boy I knew for most of my life; he looked bulkier and scruffier now. He sported a beard and short cropped hair instead of letting it grow into a mop that covered his eyes. His brow crinkled in concern as he tried to console me. At one point I tried to point at his beard and go "WTF is that?" but instead just jabbed his chin and cried harder; he thought I was growing psychotic.
It probably wasn't far from the truth. I only remember reaching for more Kleenex to re-empty my snotty nose. When I was less congested with my own tears I realized I was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with my head on James' knee. He steadily stroked my hair until I calmed down. When I found my voice again, I told him everything, one by one. And like he did when we were younger, he listened in total silence and focus until I was finished. I also apologized for ignoring him and then calling him out of the blue in a moment of weakness.
It felt like a physical weight was removed from my chest. I don't know how to explain it because conceptually, I knew I was still fucked. Maybe that was James' magic - you think that things will be better simply because he knows. He got up and got me some water and sat back down to ask me what I was going to do next.
"We-ell, I think I can start off with... asking why you are morphing into a hipster," I said stuffily, reaching out to tug at the hair of his beard.
He gave me a glare and swatted me away. "I feel you're doing alright if you have the energy to comment on my facial hair."
"I'm sorry," I let out a watery laugh. "You look good with it. Older and different. But good."
He had this funny look on his face (I actually don't know, he was hiding it behind his beard) and he said, "You haven't changed at all."
His comment made me all sober. I didn't take it in a bad way, but it got me thinking about how I felt like I was still this dumb freshman with no direction in life. At the end of the train of thought, I heard myself just say what I had been thinking about the whole time. "I think I should just move back in with my parents."
There was this really long silence and then he goes, "Huh, that's funny. I need to head back out east as well."
--
James' family was one of those outdoorsy ones and not just for the sake of looking like they could afford to do all the things they did. Which was strange because you would think the eldest son of an athletic family would immediately be some super alpha sports bro who tries to shoehorn hockey into every corner of his identity. But James was not like that - he only enjoyed hiking most out of everything his family roped him into doing, and it was because he loved being in nature. It was natural that he also liked camping. Thinking back on this, I could only fault myself for not expecting him to grow a stereotypical beard to match that part of his personality.
Anyway, university halfway across the country did not seem to dampen that enthusiasm, because for some insane reason, James had agreed to do a cross country camping trip with some buddies of his. I'm sorry, did you go back and reread that? Because I said Cross Country Camping, which is an insane string of words to be put together.
If you haven't noticed by now, my family is not outdoorsy. In fact my mom has done several rants on how much she dislikes camping and thinks it's literally a regression on civilization and that shitting in a hole in the woods is the ultimate insult to human intelligence. We always live squarely in the middle of a bustling city - my parents would rather breath in a lungful of car exhaust before pitching a tent.
So I'm sitting in my living room, listening to my childhood best friend talk about this almost two week long trip in a car with two other dudes. I have this utterly confused look on my extremely swollen face as he's explaining this blog series and tourism funding and camping guide. It was honestly a great distraction but at some point I had to stop him and just go, "What the actual fuck are you talking about?"
"I am talking about how you should come with us," he said. "You can go back to Halifax with us."
"That is... the stupidest idea I've ever heard." Of course I rejected it outright. It was such a harebrained idea I didn't give it the courtesy of consideration. Of all the methods of going back out east (if I was going to do it at all), going by car with not one, not two, but three guys was definitely on the bottom of that list. And not only that, I would have to sleep in a tent for the majority of it? I don't even have a tent!
"I know. Die hard city girl. Three gross men in a car. But Zach said he could use another hand to organize and write the material - as in he'll pay for it. Kirk has photography covered and I'm just a guide to help Zach on the research so you can fill that niche."
I hated to admit it but I perked up at the sound of money. If I sold everything, I would have barely enough to fly back to Halifax. If I could be employed over the trip back home, I would have a little extra to try to get back on my feet. It wouldn't entirely be a walk of shame if I did that.
"Aaand I thought that the week and a half traveling and camping would be good for you," James added. "You'll get a chance to think."
"Dammit, is this just some weird 'convert Anna into a camper' project for you?" I groused. "You really have turned into a hipster."
He laughed and told me to believe whatever I wanted. I had about three days to think about it before it was too late. Three days to throw caution into the wind and leave Thunder Bay to go back home in defeat. At first, it was crazy to even think about accepting it, but the more I thought about it, the more appealing it was. First and foremost it would mean spending more time with James. Secondly, I would go back home with him and maybe we could go back to being two peas in a pod. Thirdly, I would have more money than either staying and toughing it out or scraping my last savings together to travel back myself.
So after three days, I said yes.
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