All About Leslie

On Thursday, January 11, my friend Leslie Dawn DeFluiter left me.

I write this with some degree of bitterness. I called her a jerk many times for her desertion. But really, I shouldn't be bitter. I love Leslie, and leaving is what she needed to do. Sometimes in life, you just gotta do what you gotta do. Even when it sucks for everyone else.

Leslie is one of the most honest and blunt people I know. I wish she were here because on the night she left I bought a new pair of jeans, and I need to know if they make my butt look big. I'm wearing them now, but really, I wonder if I should be. Leslie would tell me.

Leslie has dance parties. If you want to start a Leslie Dance Party, you just play "SexyBack" by Justin Timberlake really loud. Let the dancing begin. I miss the dancing, even though I'm no good at it. It's fun just to shake it anyway. And Leslie's a really good dancer, so even if you can't dance, watching her dance makes up for it.

Last night, I was trying to take a nap on the couch. Ben was watching Grey's on the other couch, and it was cold in the house, and I was dozing. I don't nap well, but I was so sleepy that I couldn't figure out why I couldn't sleep. Finally I did. It was because every time a car drove by, I thought it was Leslie coming home from work. And it never was.

On Thursday night after she left, the girls and I went shopping. While I was in Express rummaging through sale bins, Leslie began to purr at me (her ring on my cell phone is of her purring). I answered the phone and we chatted for a bit while I dug through sale stuff. After I hung up, the sales lady came up to me and said "Don't you just hate that? When people call you while your shopping. Don't you just want to say "Leave me alone! I'm shopping and even you are not more important than shopping!"? And I wanted to kick her in the shins and say "No, what's more annoying is when sales people pretend like they know your problems! My problem is not my friend calling me when I'm shopping, it's that she just left me forever!" Instead I listened as she blabbered on about hating to be interrupted when shopping... hmm.

Before she left, Leslie left me with a pretty ring and bracelet of hers that we both love. They're a lot like Leslie--flashy and loud and not very easy to ignore. I'm not allowed to wear them because I'm an RA, but I've been wearing them anyway.

On a brighter note, Ben's still funny, even though Leslie left. It's a different sort of funny, though. There's no more dirtiness, or "moo moo moo," or insults. No more singing about anyone standing there loving me, or cheeky girls, or dirty babes, either. Les, you would like his joke from last night though. I did, anyway. I was sitting in the kitchen chatting with Kristina, sipping tea. Ben was on the couch, watching Grey's, eating his supper. He called, "Katie? Can you do me a favor?" And I said "Yeah, what?" and he said "Come here." So I came (why, I have no idea). He proceeded to ask me to put the foot rest part of the couch up for him. You know, reach out and pull the lever. Which he could have done from where he sat. At first I stared at him. Then I did it, aghast and his laziness and that I'd apparently become the Cinderella of Myrtle Street. And then we both laughed a lot.

Also on the night that she left, after we'd shopped and before we watched Grey's, I lay on the couch in our living room and put my head on Kristina's lap. She stroked my hair and I lay without a word as my achy heart leaked from my eyes into puddles onto her jeans. When the teapot went off, I wiped my eyes, as if that made it better. It didn't.

Leslie, I miss you. I want you to come back and sit and drink sugarless hot chocolate in our new kitchen with me. I want to talk to you about hot dirty men, and loving ourselves, and Grey's Anatomy. I want to laugh with you. I want you to make us all laugh like we were meant to laugh--until we cry and can't breathe. Thinking about you, visiting you, reading your blog--these things are not the same as living with you. I loved living with you.

I love you.