Living FULL. Danielle Sherman-Lazar

      Change two: Elizabeth and I lost contact. She had cried and so had I when we’d headed for our respective schools. We both knew we were really leaving and growing up. Though we promised to talk all the time, I never heard from her, despite my many messages to her “Hi, this is Elizabeth, leave a message or don’t bother. Peace out” recording. Eventually I gave up.

      When I heard from my parents—they were very friendly with Elizabeth’s—that Elizabeth had come home from college mid-semester, I was saddened. I would later hear that her friends speculated it was drugs. I could picture her dancing at a house party, the DJ (a.k.a. frat pledge) booming loud music in the background, drink in her hand, cigarette between her lips, brown hair wild, and dripping with sweat. My need to fix things and make everything perfect kicked into high gear. I wanted to go home and help take care of her, apologize for losing touch and giving up, for being a bad friend. But she needed time alone with her parents to regroup, recharge, and rehabilitate.

      During March break, I went to visit her.

      “Hi, I was so worried about you. I left you messages, did you get them?” I said pulling her into a warm hug. She hugged me back, but something felt different, cold and uninviting.

      “Yes, but you know how college gets. I joined a sorority too, you probably heard from your parents, and it takes up a lot of my time. I am going to have a cigarette, want one?”