One of them is my best friend, Subcontinent, the person I've known almost as long as I've known my parents. We've never gone to the same school and we went to college on opposite coasts. We've also never had a fight (I've never fought anyone, actually, which is something my coworkers find improbable) or a disagreement, if you don't count the Sippee Cup Incident when we were two, and I don't, because I bottled it up passive-aggressively as is my wont. She knows me, I know her. We're like Montaigne and that dude; "Because it was him: because it was me." Or, in her words freshman year:
I have decided you are far more entertaining than econ quant analysis
but I already knew that
The other is my college roommate, one of five, the illustrious Roommate J. If we get to sixty-five (allows room for an eleventh hour husband) and neither of us is married, we'll marry each other. (I'm pushing for Iowa. She likes Vermont. Hopefully by then there will be several options.) I already know we can live together. She makes unexpected noises and I like my space, but for some reason it never became a problem. We bonded over Whose Line Is It Anyway and nail polish and it accelerated from there. It got to the point where it became difficult to say goodbye. That's when you know a person is important to you.
Subcontinent and Roommate J are very different from me, and they are very different from each other, but they were the ones I used my hard-won vacation days to visit. This was the weekend after Easter, and my East Coast visit had been on the books long before any of April's other delights began to pick up steam. For a while I was worried I wouldn't get to go after all, but I could and I did and I have never been more relaxed over a hectic five day period in my life.
New York was food, walking, and feeling vaguely like an adult. Baltimore was food, walking, and revisiting old sources of entertainment. Both felt so incredibly right.
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