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  • Writer's pictureJaye Gaff

I forgot to tell my best friend I got COVID & all I got was this lousy t-shirt...

I have this friend, we’ll call her S (because that’s the letter her name starts with). We’ve been friends since 2010, meeting at work. Initially we both hated each other which is how most fabulous relationships start isn’t it? She thought I was a bitch and I thought she was a bitch for thinking I was a bitch.

Anyway, one day I offered to bring in cookies to contribute to the pot-luck office birthday celebration for said bitch accuser. I knew she didn’t like me. These cookies weren’t for her. They weren’t even to try and get her to like me. I just really wanted cookies. The way she tells the story, though, is that she figured I must actually be nice because…cookies.

This was her first mistake because: a) I am not nice b) I’m actually quite nice but I don’t like people to acknowledge it, and c) I am a fucking bitch.

After I returned to work from my honeymoon I was totally not slacking off. She walked by me (my desk was near the kitchen, otherwise I’m sure she’d never walk near me) and asked me a question about my wedding because… ok, fine, I was looking at my wedding photos instead of working.

When she asked me my first thought was: that bitch is making fun of me! but instead of punching her I responded and the rest, they say, is history.

We got pregnant at the same time. We raged about other staff members eating our clearly labelled food and then passing it off like “pregnant bitches be crazy.” We even went on maternity leave on the same day (hers warranted, me, well I’m just really lazy).

So, whatever. She’s my bestie if we’re not counting Husband’s as besties. And we’re not allowed to do that because S told me I couldn’t. Nobody, really, tends to get our relationship. We yell at each other. I tell her things I would never share with anybody else. She knows all my shame. And I know hers. Hers is worse, obviously. She “forgot” to tell me she and her daughter had pneumonia. I “forgot” to tell her I had swine flu.

We love to share with each other. Heck, I even think we love each other. But our relationship is special in that we hardly ever speak.

We don’t text much. If I call her she has a nervous breakdown and vice versa. I tell her everything but we don’t owe each other anything. There is no jealousy or expectations. None of us has ever uttered: I’m mad because you haven’t texted me! We’re not needy. Our relationship is low maintenance. I’d happily live with her if she could learn how to make pasta not taste like ass.

Anyway, long story short, I got COVID. My Husband got COVID. My kid got COVID. And I forgot to tell her. I would like to say that, in my defense, I did put something on Instagram Stories. It’s not my fault she didn’t check it at the exact moment I posted. She found out after we were all recovered and cleared to leave the house. Apparently this was bad. Husband thinks I’m a freak (and we’ve since decided that he will be my “should I tell S?” buffer for the future — apparently if you could die you should tell people?!).

During our Zoom convo, where I learned she has no idea how to use Photoshop, I decided to rub it in that other friends had sent us flowers, fruit and chocolate. When I am cornered with something my shitty personality has created I like to make the other person feel bad. And she did, I guess (I didn’t know that was possible?) because she sent me flowers and a vibrator (no lousy t-shirt but I liked the title). And this is why she will always be one of my favourite people.

S is one of those people who will applaud anything I do. Even if it’s shitty. We encourage each other’s decisions, whatever they are, and everyone needs a friend like that.

I can’t remember if I ever said sorry for not telling her about the COVID thing (I think I just tried to blame someone else) but if being an ass means I get sent vibrators and hilarious notes asking me what the fuck I’m doing with my life then I may just continue remaining the same. S loves me anyway.

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