My cousin Ellie was born in Korea 2 ½ months before I made my way into the world in Chicago. Her father, my uncle, was in the Army, and although we grew up seeing each other for only a few weeks every year, we had a bond that even I can’t explain or understand. There are stories of us fighting over the toilet while we were being potty-trained. On Christmas 1978 we both received large stuffed elephants for Christmas, and we were both ridiculously attached to them, sleeping with them until we were at least 18 years of age. I still have mine today, hidden on top of my entertainment center where my errant beagles can’t destroy him.
I always thought she was so beautiful. Where I was tall and fair with dark eyes and dark curly hair, she was short and bronze with blue eyes and straight, bright blonde hair. When I stayed with her family for a month in Tennessee we had the same Mickey Mouse hippity-hops. We saw E.T. together and conspired to leave a trail of Reese’s pieces outside the garage door that night. We were fearless, jumping off of the top of the basement stairs onto a pile of sleeping bags on the basement floor.
Summers here in Ohio always meant visits from her family when thirteen people crammed into a small three bedroom house with one bathroom. We fought over jelly bracelets and rode Strawberry Shortcake bikes. We built a secret fort in the backyard and played Shera: Princess of Power. She had a great imagination. We played Spy, torturing our family by eavesdropping on conversations and writing every word down for future blackmail.
When I went to visit them in Savannah, we spent hours on the trampoline and in the Ocean. We went to Disney World and rode Space Mountain together for the first time. She came to Ohio and we went to Cedar Point the first summer of the Magnum, then the tallest coaster in the world, and rode it three times.
When we weren’t together there were letters and phone calls, and when we saw each other, it was like we’d never been apart. We loved the same toys, sent our favorite books to each other in the mail, and we loved to write stories and read plays.
In high school our grandmother bought us the same Doc Martens. We both loved trendy thrift stores and funky flea market bargains. We both loved the Smashing Pumpkins and Belly, though my mother wouldn’t let me go to concerts yet and her mother did.
Ellie graduated from high school in Hawaii a year before I did because her September birthday let her start school a whole year before I could. We decided to go to college together at BYU in Utah. Though my Mom was Mormon, my father was Catholic and sent me to Catholic schools for the first thirteen years of my education. Unfortunately, I was accepted to BYU, and she, the good Mormon girl, was not. I always wondered how much differently my life would have turned out if I had gone. I think that my acceptance is one of the things that changed our lives forever. Our families feel apart not long afterwards. We were in contact less and less. My mother insisted that I go to a local school that had offered me a full academic scholarship. I stayed in Cleveland and became a college student. I learned to drink and date for the first time in my life.
While she was preparing to go to Thailand to serve her mission, I met the love of my life. When my family kicked me out of the house and I went to live with my sweet Sam, I felt that it was unimportant to keep in touch with her. My family had already turned their backs on me, and I didn’t want her to judge me as well. So while she went to Thailand, I became a pseudo-wife-stepmom-career woman-party girl all wrapped into one. I saw her once in all the years I was with Sam, and she was still Ellie, and though I smoked and drank and lived with a man that I wasn’t married to, she didn’t judge me the way I’d expected.
After her mission she returned to Hawaii to finish college. When I lost Sam, she was one of the first people I called, though we hadn’t spoken in almost a year. I wanted someone who knew me before I was Sam’s Girlfriend. Someone who would tell me where he was, that he wasn’t in hell, that he would be ok. More importantly, I needed someone who understood me.
I didn’t see Ellie again until January of this year. She was in town because her father’s mother was in the hospital. She stayed with me for a few nights and we talked about our lives for most of every night. She listened to my cry about Sam and our lost life together. She stole my cigarettes from me and made me beg for them because she wanted me to quit. She is one of those hippy/free-spirit/granola girls. She’s been all over the world, skiing in the Alps, backpacking through Alaska, hitchhiking in Spain, surfing in Hawaii, and serving the Church in Thailand. In January we went to organic grocery stores and outdoor shops, and she tried to convince me to quit my job in May, get rid of my house and my dogs, and buy a VW Van with her and travel across the country for the summer. I was tempted, but while she had traveled her whole life, I knew what it was to call a place Home. In January, she was single and planning on joining the Peace Corps. She was frustrated with the expectation that as a young single Mormon girl, she should get married and have children.
In January she went back to Hawaii. She had finished college in December but intended to stay there until May. By March she was engaged. By July she was married. I was planning on visiting her in February in Hawaii to have the vacation we’d always talked about. She called sometime this week and left a message and I haven’t been able to get in touch with her. My mother called me last night to tell me that Ellie is now pregnant.
While my heart is full of joy for her and her husband, I can’t help but feel horribly sad and disappointed. While I was living the life of a mother without having children of my own, my other friends were dating and traveling and seeing the world. Now that I’m alone and independent, everyone I know is getting married and having babies. She and I should be having children and raising them together, the way she and I shared our childhoods. These days I don’t plan on ever getting married or having children. There’s too much to feel and way too much to lose. I just wonder if I’ll ever find someone, a close, true friend, that I can spend time with, travel with, have fun with. At the rate I’m going, I don’t think so.