Friend In Need
1160 Words
Kelly's POV
A knock on the door, pulled me from my daze. It came again, two short raps, followed by a loud bang that made me jump.
“Open up! I know you can hear me, don't you dare ignore me!” a voice yelled through the thin wood.
I dragged myself from the futon and shuffled over to the door, cracking it open just enough to see out.
Hope Campbell, my best friend, stood there, a burst of color against the faded hallway.
She was balancing a heavy paper bag of groceries in one arm and a six-pack of beer in the other.
Her bright yellow jumper and vibrant blonde hair gave her a presence that filled the small space.
“Jesus, Hope,” I muttered, stepping aside. “What are you wearing?”
Hope walked in, her boots thudding on the cold floor. “It’s called fashion, sweetie, or have you forgotten.”
She dropped the groceries on the counter. “And you? You look like you've been living in a cave.”
I closed the door. “That’s a generous description, because right now I think a cave would have better amenities.”
Hope began unpacking the bag with quick, efficient movements. There were cans of soup, cereal, a box of pasta, and a pack of toiletries.
She placed each item with the authority of someone who had done this many times before.
“Emergency supplies,” Hope said without looking up. “Including a six-pack for your emotions.” She held up one of the bottles. “Cheers to being a total mess.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, my pride a familiar knot in my stomach.
Hope stopped unpacking and gave me a long, hard stare. “Don't start with that, you’re my best friend, not a charity case. Also when did you become so stubborn?”
“I’ve always been stubborn,” I replied, trying for a joke that fell flat. “It's one of my few redeeming qualities.”
Hope didn't laugh. "No, this is different, I know you're struggling, Kelly, and I know you're too proud to ask for help, so I decide to come check on you. Someone has to make sure you're still breathing."
We eventually sat on the worn futon, our legs tangled in the mess of a forgotten blanket.
The silence was comfortable, the kind only two old friends could share.
Hope just waited, giving me the space to talk if I wanted to.
“I really thought I could do it, you know,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “The business, I thought I could build something real, something that was all mine.”
Hope reached out and took a beer, twisting off the cap. “You did build something, and for a while, you had it all. Most people never even get to try, but you did.”
“I built a financial disaster,” I countered, looking at my hands. “I maxed out all my savings, and I owe Dylan and other people so much money, it’s too much.”
Hope took a slow sip of her drink. “It’s never too much for him, and you know it, he is your brother.”
“I just hate asking for help, and I feel like a failure,” I said, the words heavy and painful.
Hope’s gaze was firm. “You are not a failure, Kelly. You’re a fighter, you tried something no one else would have, and you did it all on your own.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, well, now I’m too broke to try anything again.”
“Then it’s time to play it safe,” Hope said, her voice softening. “Maybe just for now, get a job, any job, something to get you back on your feet.”
“I’ve been looking.”
Hope’s eyebrows arched in a silent question.
“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “I will look, seriously this time.”
“Good.” Hope clinked her bottle against mine.
“To surviving.”
We drank together, the quiet of the apartment settling around us. After a moment, Hope, not one to stay still for a long time, brought up something else.
“Remember how we were in high school?” she asked, a small smile on her face.
I groaned. “I’ve spent a lot of time trying to forget it.”
Hope’s smile faded a little. “They were awful to you, those girls were so mean to you all through senior year.
I remember one of them saying your outfit looked like a trash bag and rags sewn together, you refuse talk to anyone for a week after that.”
“It’s not what they said to me that hurts the most,” I said, my fingers tightening on my bottle.
“It’s that I believed them, I went home and threw out all my favorite clothes because they made me feel less than I was, like a nobody, like my ideas were stupid.”
“You still think you’re that girl,” Hope said softly. “But you’re not, you’ve come too far for that.”
“I still feel like her, you know,” I admitted. “Especially on days like this, when I'm broke, stuck, and ashamed.”
Hope reached over and squeezed my hand tight. “Well, I see you, I always have, and I know who you really are.”
“An unemployed failure with a leaking ceiling?”
Hope laughed. “A gorgeous, talented woman who needs to shower and get laid.”
I stared at her, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Hope.”
Hope grinned. “Which is why… drumroll please… we’re going out this weekend.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head. “I have nothing to wear.”
“I don’t care if I have to drag you out of here in your pajamas, but you’re coming with me.”
“I’ll just embarrass myself and everyone else.”
“No, you won't, you’ll look stunning.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You will be after two glasses of wine and a good playlist.”
I sighed. “You’re serious about this?”
“Dead serious.”
“I can’t afford going out right now,” I said immediately.
“Don’t worry about that, I’m paying,” Hope replied, cutting me off. “It's time for you to have one night where you don’t have to think about any of all this.”
Hope’s eyes were firm, and I knew there was no arguing. I looked at my old notebook, a monument to my dead dream.
Maybe Hope was right, maybe I just needed one night to be someone else.
“Okay fine,” I said, the word a reluctant whisper. “One night.”
- Writer
