I’ve known Jayne for 28 years. She was my boss at my first “real” job when I was hired as a Junior File Clerk. I was 20 and she was 23. We shared an office in a non-descript office building, both toiling away in support of a bunch of environmental scientists and engineers working on large USEPA contracts.
I learned the ropes of working in an office from her – how to operate a copier, what a “charge number” was, where to get supplies, how to use a typewriter, how to create a spreadsheet (back then using Lotus 123), how to complete a timesheet, and important office protocol – like how it was improper to slam the phone down in your office, even if your boyfriend had just really, really pissed you off or how it was considered bad form to call in sick after you’d been out ‘til all hours at a happy hour the night before with co-workers. Who knew, right?
In the five years I stayed with the company, Jayne and I became close friends. I moved on to more responsible tasks from my springboard grunt position, inheriting new supervisors along the way, thereby avoiding any appearance of impropriety in regard to boss/employee relations.
Over the years, I’ve been there as Jayne’s father passed away suddenly one evening of a heart attack, her mother lost a battle with cancer, and her childhood best friend died in a car accident one day while simply going to lunch with a co-worker.
Meanwhile, she was my maid of honor when I married 25 years ago, was my first visitor to the hospital when my son was born, and was one of the most supportive people in my life when I decided at age 34 to stop living a lie and come out as a lesbian.
I’ll never forget our phone conversation the day I told her. She’d known something was up; I’d alluded to the fact that I needed to tell her something BIG, but hadn’t had the nerve to blurt it out. But that day, I was resolved. I had to tell her as I knew I’d need her in my corner when I told my unsuspecting husband, John, that I was about to shake up his world.
She pushed me to “Just SAY it!” I told her it was really bad. She said, “You’re leaving John?” and I breathed a sigh of relief, the first hurdle cleared.
“Yes, I am. But it’s the reason why that’s bad.”
Jayne’s response was perfect, and indicative of why we’ve remained friends for so long, as humor has seen us through every possible hand in the full deck of life experience cards.
“The only thing that could be so bad that you can’t tell me is if you’re leaving him for Larry.” Larry was Jayne’s husband of 14 years. They were – and remain – the happiest married couple I know.
That thought made me laugh and put me at ease enough to share the truth with her and was a vivid reminder that, hey, there were worse things than coming out to your best friend. I told her I was gay, had been with a girl from the time I was 17 years old until I was 20, but then had gone on to “do the right thing” after she and I had split. (Note to young lesbians everywhere – don’t let your first girlfriend be a member of a devoutly Catholic family wherein the mother works for the CIA and the father is a Marine. Got that? Make a note.)
Our friendship never missed a beat and remains ironclad to this day, which is why, despite the fact that she's already radioactive, I’ll be visiting her this evening on her 51st birthday as she prepares to undergo radiation treatment for cancer tomorrow. She’s been doing all the prep work the last couple of days, getting injections and ingesting pills she’s not permitted to touch without HAZMAT gloves, but which she’s expected to swallow. She called a short while ago to confirm for tonight as we’d left it open, depending on how she was feeling.
“I feel fine, so it’s up to you. As long as you don’t mind being around me when I’m radioactive, that is,” she invited. She explained that she’d not receive the “big dose” until tomorrow, but the doctor cautioned her to avoid physical contact with others after downing the little beads of poison earlier today. All would be fine as long as she kept her distance.
“Sure, I’ll just wrap myself in tin foil and be over later then,” I responded, “As long as you’re not gonna mess up the TV signal. American Idol’s on tonight, ya know.”Jayne laughed. A laugh I knew I’d get, as even cancer radiation treatment is fair game between friends. Best friends. True friends.
Happy Birthday, Jayne! I love ya! I'll be there to laugh with you for a couple of hours very soon...
Candy Parker
Moving and funny, just lovely, Candy. I'm glad Jayne has you to keep her company tonight.
ReplyDeleteBest Birthday wishes to Jayne, I think it's the candles that are supposed to glow, not the birthday girl! You two are very fortunate to have each other and thanks for sharing how special that bond can be.
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