Birthday Girl

So I'm stretching the guidelines a bit with this challenge entry. Technically, this story did not happen during my childhood. I was 21 years old and close to graduating college when it took place. But this story did happen alongside my childhood best friend, Maria.

Let me give you a brief history lesson on the iconic friendship between Maria and I. The two of us officially met when we were both in middle school. I was in 8th grade, she was in 7th. We were taking a break from our school play rehearsal of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I was resting on the gymnasium bleachers all alone, when Maria approached and sat down next to me.

"Hey," she said, "ya like Harry Potter?"

Maria had clearly spotted the red Gryffindor shirt over my chest.

"Why yes," I replied, "I do."

And that was the beginning of our beautiful nerdy friendship.

Since middle school, the two of us have done several amazing things together. We threw Harry Potter parties for our friends on July 31st (Harry's birthday), and have even travelled to the Warner Brothers Studio in London. I call her "Gryffinclaw" and she calls me "Gryfferin" based on our hybrid Harry Potter houses. And every school dance, we would do that classic Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood ferret movement.

We always dreamed about living in London together...just so we could be closer to the wizarding world goodness. But Harry Potter obsession aside, Maria and I have done other amazing things. We've travelled across Italy, had a show together on our high school's TV station (about theatre dramaturgy in an effort to promote the school plays and sell tickets), and were dutiful members of show choir.

In other words, we were total dorks in high school. But like Scooby and Shaggy, or Wayne and Garth, or Spongebob and Patrick...people knew we were inseparable.

Eventually, fate had to divide us post-graduation. While I went off to Marymount Manhattan College in New York City to pursue my acting and theatre dreams, Maria joined the rest of our show choir friends - and her boyfriend, John - in attending the Catholic University of America in the District of Columbia.

The big move didn't ruin our friendship. In fact, I was able to visit Maria at school whenever she was acting in a new college show over the weekend. But being so far away did make communication between us harder. Between the summer of 2018 to autumn 2019, a lot changed in her life.

Our high school drama teacher unexpectedly died and Maria took the grief hard; especially because she was there when our teacher collapsed. Her boyfriend had grown jealous of her involvement in theatre...namely, Maria getting cast as love interests and having to kiss other actors on stage. Because she couldn't convince him she didn't actually have feelings for anyone she smooched during shows, she was forced to dump him. She also had to dump our toxic high school friends because they sided with John, and saw only her to blame for the fallout.

So when I decided to take an Amtrak train from NYC to Washington DC in October 2019 to go visit Maria for the weekend, I knew I was going to meet a new version of her. She had been seeing a therapist on campus, so perhaps something would be different. There was a lot she had dealt with we hadn't properly talked about. Quick text messages and social media DMs aren't the best heart-to-heart conversations, after all.

Our meeting on her college campus was a pretty theatrical one. We saw each other from across a grass field, and ran to hug like Forrest Gump and Jenny during that Lincoln Memorial scene. Which, now that I think about it, also happened in Washington DC.

After a long embrace, Maria gave me a surprised glance. “Oh look, we’re matching,” she said in response to her orange long sleeve shirt and my orange dress. She wore 1960’s style makeup in preparation for the musical that would play in a few hours: Dolly Parton's 9 to 5. She was in the ensemble.

Maria and I caught up on life while walking back to her apartment, which was far more spacious than my broom closet of a place in Manhattan. In the meantime, I'd texted another friend of ours from high school named Brenna. She was a short blond girl who studied ASL at the neighboring Gallaudet University and came over for some mac n' cheese lunch Maria made special.

“He broke up with me because he admitted he didn’t want to have a bald girlfriend,” Brenna said, talking about Brandon: the boyfriend she’d been with since high school. They got into fights after Brenna participated in an annual event at Gallaudet where she and two other girls shaved their heads to help kids fighting cancer.

“Like, it’s hair. It grows back. Fuck shitty high school boyfriends,” she said.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em,” Maria replied while stirring up a bowl of mac n’ cheese. There was something about her cadence in saying those words that was strikingly different from the girl I knew in high school. She stood up straight and spoke with a maturity I had never seen in her before. It was like Brenna and Maria were two Riot Grrrls, and I came to see their show.

"So Maria," Brenna asked, “any cute Catholic U boys?”

“Well, there is one guy…he lives three doors down the hall. John Lullo. He’s into finance but loves musical theatre,” Maria turned to me, “actually, he said he wants to meet you later, Katy.”

One part of me wanted to laugh in her face and say something like, oh my god, another John? Clearly you have a type!

The second part of me feared he was a douchebag. After everything with high school John and disappointing experiences on my end with Johns in New York, I don’t trust the name. The tragedy of being named ‘John’ in the 21st century is that historically, there are so many great Johns to live up to. John Smith, John Adams, John Lennon, John Wayne, John F. Kennedy…the list goes on. So when you’re named John, you feel like you have to do something great with your life. You don’t want to be a John Doe, after all. My theory is that the pressure makes all Johns crack. They constantly feel inadequate. That’s why they make terrible lovers: they can’t love themselves.

Oh, and there was a third part of me, too. I was jealous I wasn’t the only object of Maria’s affections, as much as my brain didn’t want to admit it. I’d put John Lullo under a microscope later.

Brenna left, Maria and I went to the theatre, and I watched her performance in 9 to 5. She was fantastic, as usual.

“The director left in the middle of our rehearsals! That’s why everything was so jumbled," she said as we traipsed back to her apartment in the dark.

"I guess so. But I did love that bumblebee costume you had. During that song.”

“Oh my god,” Maria rolled her eyes, “it’s a bird costume! Everyone thinks we’re bees ‘cause it’s black and yellow! This is what I mean. Terrible direction.”

“You were a bumblebird!” I said. We laughed and squeezed each others' hands.

When we returned to her apartment building, we made a quick visit to John Lullo’s place. An Irish flag hung outside his door. First thing I noticed about him was the chunky silver watch on his left wrist. He was an Irish-Italian beauty with swoopy russet hair. Not as tall as high school John, but still lanky. He shook my hand with the kind of firmness only a finance major can have. “Hi Katy,” he said, as if we had already met.

He made us spaghetti (a little cold, but still good), and I talked to his two roommates, both named Kate. I flipped through his collection of 1970’s vinyls while him and Maria conversed.

“I invited Michael over to my place later,” she said, “you’re more than welcome to come if you’d like. It’ll be an intimate gathering with me and Katy.” Me and Katy. I liked the sound of that.

“Sure. I’ll be there,” he said, and soon after, we wished him goodbye.

“First impressions?” Maria asked as we walked down the hall back to her place.

“Suspiciously well-cultured,” I said. You don’t need a watch when cellphones exist.

“But other than that, so far, so good.”

While we waited for the mysterious “Michael” to arrive, we put on an episode of Fleabag, grabbed some wine, and changed into our pajamas. I wore sweatpants and a chunky green sweatshirt while Maria wore grey leggings and a matching grey t-shirt. We dressed for a chill, laid-back evening. It was just close friends. There was no one to impress, right?

Eventually, Michael called Maria, and she went down to the lobby to meet him. And when she came back…

"Um, Katy,” she said in the doorway, “we have a problem.”

More than twenty rowdy college kids filed in after her.

They just kept coming...one after the other after the other! I couldn't believe my eyes. Sure, Maria's DC apartment was bigger than my Manhattan broom closet, but it sure as hell wasn't big enough to fit this many people.

It was like a stampede of drunk, marijuana-infused wildebeest charging in to claim the space as their own. They invaded the couch I was sitting on and placed several bottles of vodka onto Maria’s kitchen counter. I lost her in the crowd. "Maria!?" I kept calling.

When I finally found her, the t-shirt she was wearing had been replaced with a grey sports bra. I don't blame her for shedding: it was getting hot with all the people inside.

“I just had a panic attack in the hallway,” she said, gripping both sides of her temple, “I don’t know how the fuck this happened.”

“Where did they all come from?” I asked.

“Michael was at something before this. They all just…party-hopped.”

When you're with your childhood bestie during a crazy situation like the one we'd found ourselves in, you don't need to communicate through words. All it takes is some deep eye contact to understand what the other person is feeling. It's like magic. Hogwarts-esque telepathy magic.

I looked at Maria. Should we tell all these people to go home? We can't apparate out of here...we're just dorks, after all! I said through my eyes.

But it was as if Maria was shrugging in her expression back to me. What can we do? she seemed to say. They're all intoxicated and John is coming...maybe we should just have fun.

I silently agreed. The two of us grabbed solo cups and put on our happy party faces. Maria quickly decorated the countertop with more alcohol and mixers, then hopped onto it.

“Hey everyone!” she shouted, “Welcome! Sorry it’s really small. Some of you I know from the show, others I’m seeing for the first time. But I just want to say I love you all, and this girl over here,” she pointed to me, “is my best friend, Katy, from New York City!”

“Hiiiii Katyyyy,” everyone replied in unison.

Staying put near the fridge, I was able to talk to all the kids who showed up. While conversing about New York and going to high school with Maria, people looked at me with wide eyes – as though I were some famous celebrity from The Big Apple who had graced the evening with my presence.

Maria always stayed close to me, and we hugged often while greeting guests. John Lullo and his roomies showed up sometime around the party’s middle. I caught him staring at me periodically. They weren’t salacious, lustful looks he gave. No…there was something about the way his eyebrows curled above his head. He wanted to be where I was, next to Maria. Was I keeping him away from her?

“Happy birthdaaaay!” said a drunk girl who I can only describe as Winona Ryder with a nose ring. She poured way too much vodka into my cup, then placed an arm around my shoulder.

“Thanks, but it’s not my birthday,” I said.

“Yeah it is,” she replied, quite confident it was.

For some reason, other people followed suit. Whenever I balanced out my drink with Sprite, people would shout, “happy birthday!” and pour in more Absolut Vodka. It was getting pretty crazy, so I surrendered to tipsiness.

“Why do people think it’s my birthday?” I asked Maria, starting to slur.

“I dunno, probably because I made that announcement,” she smiled. “Happy birthday.”

“If I come back to Catholic U, tell people it’s my birthday so we can have more parties.”

“You got it, birthday girl.”

The rest of the night was spent playing drinking games and posing for pictures with Maria, and when the party was over, I found myself face-down on her couch, very dizzy and pleasantly drunk. We couldn’t stop laughing.

“How the fuck did that happen!” I shouted.

“I don’t know, man. That’s what college parties are like,” she replied.

“Dude…I think that was my first real college party.”

“Really? You don’t go to parties at Marymount?”

“I mean, I do,” I said – it was all coming out now, “but we don’t have a real campus, so there aren’t many. The ones my friends host are lame as hell. They’re so annoying. They don’t do drinking games – all they talk about are Youtube vloggers and musical theatre. I think I’m friends with them out of convenience. Other people at Marymount are so prissy. And there were cute guys here! The guys at Marymount aren’t cute. And if they are cute, they’re gay.”

Maria laughed and shook her head. “You need some water.”

I giggled. “I haven’t been this drunk since I played drunk chess with a guy I was seeing, and he had to carry me to the bathroom.”

“Wait, what?” her tone got darker.

“Yeah…he made me down Fireball and whiskey. I lost the game, so…come to think of it, we never even made out sober. According to him, we were friends with benefits, so…”

“Oh, honey…”

Maria realized I was sad before I did. She stroked my hair. I placed my head in her lap. Why am I crying? My fingers wrapped around her forearm. My stinging eyes couldn’t decide if they were tired or not. I had known all her pain before meeting her in mid-October. In coming to DC, I had prepared to listen to all the troubles she'd been through and console her in her time of need. But the tables had turned. Now, she would learn about all the pain I'd hidden from her.

“When Brenna was over before, I told her I don’t have time to date. But I think I’m just numb. Like, all of you had boyfriends in high school, or like, have crushes now. But that’s not me. I’m like a placeholder for people. It doesn’t work out for me. I hope it works out for you and Lullo. He seems nice. But I don’t have the stamina for dating and shit. Not anymore.”

After that dark revelation, Maria stroked my hair some more and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. While I can't say I'm romantically attracted to Maria (no offense, Maria), I can say I believe she is my soulmate in life. Or at least someone I knew in a past life. That's the only explanation I can find for our chemistry. There's a familiarity between us that I've never been able to find in any friend besides her. Maybe it's because of the intensity of female friendships made in youth. When those kinds of friendships are kept, they don't rot: they turn to gold.

The fun was over, and it was time to hit the hay. Sara, her roommate, slept at a friend’s place and gave me permission to take her comfy twin bed next to Maria’s. When I awoke the next morning, the first thing I saw was Maria’s face in peaceful slumber.

My mind wandered. What would it be like if we lived together in DC? In New York City? In London? I daydreamed about the two of us in our own apartment, going to auditions in the morning and throwing parties at night. It would be nice to see Maria's face every day, instead of just once or twice every year.

What I wouldn't know then is that 10 months later, I'd finally become more than just someone's placeholder. I'd meet my current boyfriend, Dan, while living in New York City for six months with college friends during the pandemic. As for Maria and John Lullo - to my knowledge they had a fling, but nothing super serious happened between them. Fortunately, Maria wasn't too hurt by it.

This year (2021), I got to introduce Maria to Dan at her college graduation party in New Jersey. The evening was small and intimate. It was just me, her, Dan, my brother, her parents, and two family friends at Maria's kitchen table.

"I just want to let you know," she jokingly told my boyfriend, "that although you and Katy are in a relationship right now, her and I will always be endgame."

"I guess that means she'll have to come to England with you," her mother smiled before sipping a glass of wine.

"Wait, what?" I asked, "you're going to England?"

Maria smirked. "Yeah. I haven't made an official announcement yet, but...I just got accepted to a school in London to get my masters in drama."

A part of me was sad she'd be travelling across the Atlantic, while another part of me was so ecstatic to see her London dreams had manifested. Well...our London dreams. It was nothing short of magic.

I gave her a big hug, said "congratulations," and for the rest of the evening, dreamed about going to visit her in a flat or at a pub or somewhere within Hyde Park. I thought about the two of us post-pandemic, living our best lives and throwing a party with her new British college friends. Perhaps I'll have to hop on a broomstick and fly to London as quickly as I can, and become the "birthday girl" once more.

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Sorry I've been MIA on Vocal recently more stuff coming soon ;) Likes, tips, subscribing, what have you is always greatly appreciated. Follow me on Insta @katyisaladybug for more life updates. Thanks for reading.

- katy