Reaction Posts: Annie D'Angelo Murray

Annie is my best friend.  She has been for the last 10 years.  10 years!!!  We've been through some serious ups and downs and this relationship has been more painful and beautiful and rewarding and upsetting than any of my other previous relationships with boys.  She is one of the wittiest, funniest, humanest people I know.  She's got this amazing gift for writing.  I mean, like amazing.  She's gonna be famous and my grandchildren will be reading her books for english class in high school.  She's an incredible daughter, sister, wife, and the most devoted mother I know.  She is going to school full time and working full time so that she's able to graduate with an MFA in creative writing and do what she does best.  I asked her to write this post because I seriously couldn't have done it better.  I love you, Nin.

(By Annie...by the way, stemming from a night out in college when we were drinking Kentucky Straight Old Crow bourbon whiskey, she calls me Old Crow and I lovingly refer to her as KY Straight.)

 

Our signature roommate hug

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I'm sorry it took me so long, Old Crow. It's been a rough couple of weeks. I promise you and Nacho and BillyBillyBilly have been on my mind every day. Here's my reaction. It's long, but what do you expect? I'm a writer.

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I hate driving. I'm terrified of it. I didn't even get my license until I was 22, and the first time I ever drove Scarlett anywhere, it was home to Pleasant Valley Road from the Pittsburgh International Airport. And Scarlett, sensitive little gem that she is, laughed her ass off the whole way about this silly little quirk that she noticed--I tap the steering wheel with my index finger when I'm nervous. And it was January and snowing, so there was lots of tapping. And lots of laughing (on Scarlett's part, not mine). Deep, rich laughing. With snorts and wheezes. If you're reading this blog, then you know Scarlett, and you know the kind of laughing I'm talking about. Anyway, my point is, in the world of Scarlett and Annie, the dynamic had been set long ago. I was the innocent, the naive, the inexperienced, and Scarlett was the cool, cosmopolitan, sophisticated friend who taught me how to do everything. Everything from dancing to applying eyeliner to calculating probabilities (stupid flipping Stats class!) to smoking a cigarette. 

So there I was, a few days after Christmas '09 telling Scarlett, despite my lingering phobia, that yeah, sure, no problem, I could pick her up from New Castle and drive her to Twinsburg for our second annual Hiramgirls Christmas Dinner. What can I say? She's my best friend, and I was excited to see her, even if it meant I had to drive unknown roads through the falling snow. 

The night before the dinner, I called and called, but no answer. My frustration built the next morning when there was still no reply. I didn't even have an address, and I was seriously stressing about the snow. Finally, I received a short, noncommittal text: "I don't know if I can go. I feel like crap." Assuming she was hung-over, I was highly unsympathetic. I can't even remember if I texted back (That'll show her, eh?!). Then, a few hours later, my phone rang, and this tiny, hesitant voice I could barely associate with my mentor in coolness said, "Um, [pause....pause] I'm pregnant." 

Iris (my daughter) was in the bath, and I had the phone tucked under my ear as I sprayed Lysol and scrubbed the sink, desperately trying to clean the bathroom before Iris lost interest in her bath crayons. I actually dropped the sponge. 

I squealed and smiled so hard my cheeks hurt and asked all the appropriate questions, but the whole time, my mind fixated on exactly three thoughts. And here they are, in order of importance:

1. If she doesn't ask me to be the godmother, as outlined in the sacred pact of 2003 (we chugged Coors Light out of plastic cups to seal it, for God's sake) , I swear to God I'll leave her out of the Acknowledgments section of my first book.

2. I've actually done this one huge thing before Scarlett. For the first time in our friendship, I'm the one who has the experience. I hope I can offer sage advice and honest comfort the way she has for me so many times before. 

3. I can't believe I'm 28, and I have a pregnant roommate.

I hung up the phone and sat down on the wet floor. I watched Iris play in the tub. Her chubby fingers made awkward shapes with the blue bath crayon, and her hair stuck out in crazy curls from the warm water. I looked at how small her shoulders were for so long I almost cried. Being a mom is the greatest thing I have ever done. And in that moment, my heart swelled for Scarlett in a new and exciting way. I'm so happy my best friend gets to do this too.