My Best Friend The Kingfisher

Dedicated to Izzy and Annabella
By: John Alejandro

My name’s Anabella, but her name’s Izzy… She was stubborn and feisty. Her skin is a valley of white clouds and her breasts mountains of soft pillows, while her eyes were windows to her soul. I love running my hands through her straight silky hair and waking up the following morning only to find a curly dead porcupine. And that’s what I really loved is our beginnings, our au naturale.

We met when shards of summer heat danced along the blacktop and when there was a lack of a major presence in her day. She was going through a rough phase where she was trying to find herself and I was there to help her out with that. At first, I never took a second look. At first I just thought of her as a friend, but when as time progressed my feelings grew. At the time my career was a Bugatti doing two hundred on a freeway, but she was a fast coming exit. I was dumbstruck, and all I had was unrequited love.

There is a blue bench between the arts wing and history wing. Sit there, and watch the sunset after basketball and school. Actually, before and during also. Do this and be free from the strangle of day to day life and escape higher up’s time constraints for a growing teenager. Become luminous with good memories, the beginnings. Sit at “the spot”. Nothing mattered. Do this and anything that bothers you will no longer. When I was there with her, nothing besides us mattered…

Friendship blossoms in many ways. Ours did in a way that I could never fully comprehend up until now. She gradually spent less time with her friends and spent it with me. I was happy. She said that I taught her how to be more appreciative and no one made her realize her feelings the way I did. I never thought about us and I didn’t like her in that way. But curiosity struck me and made me reassess my feelings for her.

A year later, our friendship evolved from something that was mutual to nothing at all…temporarily… We drifted apart. There was never a big fight. We avoided each other and everything was done out of sanity, a roller coaster.

We all went our separate ways for a while. Basketball season started again and Izzy still avoided me. We’d be around each other but it was awkward. At the time I was still in a relationship with a bitch. She was clingy and dependent who asked me to put her above school. It was just one of those relationships where one cared more about the other. In this case, I didn’t care for her much nor did I have strong feelings for her.

As for me and Izzy, alcohol intervened.

Meet her and get to know her. Develop a friendship and get really close. Understand each other more. See if you have a connection. Call her by a pet name. Suffer through brief hell. Drink away. Do this and see the fortuitous rise of a friendship’s transformation.

When my current relationship was unraveling, I talked to Izzy. When I had a stalker and was scared. She comforted me. At the time, the parents weren’t so hot either. She was there. Everytime something went wrong she was always there to comfort me. Just like I was for her.

After weeks of debunking the roller coaster, I found out that it was ambivalence and not I who caused the awkwardness. “I’m not supposed to like girls. It’s against my religion you see?” If you can reason with religious people, there would be no religious people.

Winter break, we’d drink before games, which was excellent because we’d be really prepared for kicking the other team’s asses. And then sometimes after games we’d stay and sell snacks and take tickets. When we were off, we’d sit around and waste time. Two other teammates helped bandage a cracked friendship and things started to repair. Soon the other two faded away and it was us again.
One time Izzy got really drunk and like a ragdoll I sat her on the floor where I comforted her and let her rest. She then started mumbling.

“mmro…I havah somun’ to tell you, but I dun a wanna tell you. I can’t tell you?”

She was wasted.

“I like you mmro”

At first I thought she was just drunk, but deep down I had a notion that she liked me too. I was so absorbed in the moment where nothing in the world mattered, happy…I was happy that she did the job for me. I was ambivalent before but this set the wheels in motion.

“I like you too, mmro” =)

Crap I was still with the bitch. I didn’t know what to do without being such a jerk to her. Speaking of being a jerk, I did it anyway. I ended up taking care of Izzy rather than go on our planned date to Disneyland. At the time, I would’ve left her over and over again to hear her mumble these soft words.
We stayed in my car, and she threw up inside it. I rushed beside her to open the door to let her throw up some more…outside. I held her. It felt good. I liked taking care of her and assuring her that everything will be okay. I kissed her forehead and held her until her carriage whisked her away.
Tell her you like her. If she told you first, then tell her you like her back. Even if she’s drunk. And when she is drunk, let her throw up in your car. It’s okay because she’s worth more. Do this and you will discover truths that will make you happy.

The moment replayed in loops in my head. When we hung out after, it was left unsaid. Our cracked friendship rekindled, but it burned ablaze now. Weeks later I broke up with the controlling bitch. Not for Izzy, but because she was driving me crazy. It was hard to be with her, but Izzy definitely drove her off the cliff. One day, Bitch wanted to talk to me and pulled me outside of gym to try to get back together. Then, Izzy lunged forward both of them went off at each other. I left with Izzy. I was her territory now.

Izzy was the only one where I could see a future with. Planning things like someday we’ll travel. Someday we’ll have a dog, and kids, and a little white boy named Johnny. She would spoil all of them so much. Now someday will never come. No…it’s not like that. But it’s more than you should know. She likes a girl and we could never be together. But as long as she’s happy I’ll be okay. And the girl before was what I really loved. Her natural self, au natural unchanged.