Parts of Us - Arianna Jobst

Parts of Us

• The last time I walked this path was with you, when you and I were still friends. It was a Saturday in the middle of winter, during one of the absolute coldest days of the year. The offshore breeze from the river made it even colder, the wind slapping our faces as a punishment for the audacity we had for being outside. It was mid-January, so it was the soulless part of winter, and the sun was already setting at 4pm.
  • I hadn’t seen you in a while, because we live in different states now.
  • You lent me an extra scarf you had, because my bare ears threatened to fall off my head from frostbite.
  • My legs felt numb even under two layers of pants.
  • I had just bought a new lip gloss, and when my hair whipped with the wind, strands kept sticking to my mouth.
  • You were wearing boots that clicked on the pier.
     
• Today I’m playing the card game that you taught me when we were kids, with my girlfriend who you never met, who I might marry without you ever knowing her. I’ve taught this card game to countless people at this point. It’s my favorite card game to play.
  • I remember when we played this card game on the beach, and we stuck the cards in the sand instead of holding them in our hands because we were too lazy to hold our bodies up.
  • You would always get mad when I shuffled the deck, because I couldn’t do a proper bridge, so I always ended up just bending the cards.
  • I hate when people do pairs instead of suite runs, because that’s what you hated, and I adopted your opinion.
  • I honestly can’t remember the last time that we played the game together.
  • I wonder if you still play the game, and I wonder if you even think of me, because you were the one who taught me the game, so it’s probably a more significant memory for me than it is for you.
     
• It’s July, and it’s your birthday, and I scheduled a trip to Nashville with my friends from college, but if I had done that while we were still friends it would’ve been a big deal, because I was spending your day with other people, even if we didn’t live in the same place. Now I’m released from the constraints of that expectation. But when your birthday rolls around and I notice the calendar, I get an involuntary squeeze of panic, but then I remember there’s no reason to panic anymore.
   
• The mascara brand that I use is a brand that you recommended to me.
  • You showed me how to do makeup, or at least experiment with it.
  • In college, people complimented me on the funky makeup that you thought looked ugly.
  • Do you remember that one day? When we were going out to a bar, planning on using our fake-ids, and you threw up before we even left?
  • You used to love an intense waterline eyeliner, but I’ve noticed from your Instagram posts that you don’t really wear that look anymore.
     
• In my new apartment, I bought this couch that reminds me of the one from your basement, the L shaped gray one that we used to build forts out of until it became our spot to gossip and drink.
  • I had my first kiss there when we played spin the bottle. I still talk to him sometimes. I think he says you guys got coffee like a year ago.
    • I like coffee now, by the way. I know you always used to make fun of me for not liking it. I drink it with cream and sugar.
  • I also have a poster that’s left over from college, that you gifted me for my birthday once. I keep it because I still like the artist, not because it was a gift from you.
  • My roommates are really nice. I tell them stories about you sometimes, but I always say ‘my ex friend’ so they don’t actually know your name.
     
• Your mom requested to follow me on Instagram. I didn’t know she had one?
   
• I’ve recently heard that you live in the same city as me. I knew this was going to happen, because everyone from our area moves here, but for some reason I thought you would maybe stay away forever. I didn’t think that we could exist in the same space again.
   
• I wonder which version of me strikes you as the most ‘me.’ I wonder what qualities of mine you still remember. I wonder who I am in your eyes.
   
• If you read this, do you think you would know it’s about you?