Best Friend Forever

I had only one best friend forever, Anne-Marie.

The first time I saw Anne-Marie, I knew we would be best friends forever. When we started talking, I felt we were kindred spirits. We were young and adventurous, and life stretched ahead of us where anything was possible. I was 18 and she was 20, single and free. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Tall with long dark hair and a beautiful face and olive complexion. That dark, mysterious look not many of us can pull off. Within a month, we were inseparable. I practically moved into her apartment, I was there so often. I became friends with her whole family and was there for every gathering. They were like my own family.

We lived life to the fullest. Taking chances like hitchhiking to Hillbrow in Johannesburg on a Wednesday night because we had free entry at all the clubs. A few years later, she moved there, and it made it easier and safer not to have to hitch a ride with god knows what type of imbeciles. Nothing ever happened to us, and I thank the Universe for that. We were reckless, I admit, but when you are young and crazy, you feel invincible.

Saturdays, we would climb up a pipe to the roof of her apartment block of 15 floors to catch a tan so that our skins could shine for that night’s clubbing. We filled rucksacks with tanning oil, towels, and our favorite drink, Brown Cow, a disgusting chocolate milkshake kind of thing filled with vodka. It was the cheapest alcohol we could afford. We would worship the sun and get steadily drunk. By the time we finished the bottle and tan, we would slide down the pipe unsteadily, as you can imagine. During one of those tanning sessions, someone called from the 14th floor landing to beg us to come down because her heart couldn’t stand the tension. Of course, we didn’t care.

We worked at the same company and met a girl, Linda, who had moved to the area with her boyfriend. They broke up, and she decided to resign and move back in with her parents in another town. The day she left, she came to say goodbye, and we walked her to the front door of our office block, where she introduced us to the guy who offered to drive her home. We weren’t suspicious at all. The next day, her mother called hysterically because Linda never arrived the previous day. Anne-Marie decided to call the guy who collected her at our offices. He denied knowing where she was. By this time, we knew he was lying. We saw him pick her up, and she could not have disappeared into thin air.

Two days later, we received the news that her body was found in woods adjoining the road they traveled on. Anne-Marie called the guy, who by now we knew was a firefighter in the next town. She confronted him and told him we knew he killed her. The police didn’t listen to us, as we called them every day, making a nuisance of ourselves. But we could not let it go because someone we knew and loved was dead and her killer was walking free. They finally arrested him, and he committed suicide after admitting his crimes. It was the craziest shit we have ever done.

We always consumed a lot of alcohol on jaunts and even snuck in one on a Friday at work during lunch. It was never a problem for me, and I didn’t think she had a drinking problem. But over the years, I realized it was a crutch for my beautiful friend. She also had other addictions she hid from everyone. There was a stint at a rehabilitation center, but not for the alcoholism. She couldn’t admit it.

The last time I saw my best friend I didn’t recognise her. Outwardly, she looked the same, but her alcoholism took over her life. A few weeks before she died, she called me, and I can still recall her lovely voice. She finally admitted to being an alcoholic, but it was too late. Her liver couldn’t withstand the constant alcohol abuse. We both cried because we knew we were saying goodbye for the last time. My gorgeous Anne-Marie, my kindred spirit, my soul sister, died two weeks later.

My son Emile and Anne-Marie visited me in a dream to warn me of impending storms in my future. My son held my shoulders and said, “Mommy, you can do this thing”. Even in death, Anne-Marie was there for me. I salute you, my best friend forever!

Namaste