Brad and Amy

I was with her the day she bumped into him. I had been in her life for a lot longer, though.
Amy and I had been friends for a long time. We met in junior high–I, the skinny geek no one liked, she, the not-so pretty prep. Throughout high school, we were each other’s support system. She grew into her looks and I discovered the weight room, football team, and girls. She sank into the background, my tangible conscience. She helped me up after the drunk parties, talked me through the hours in the bathroom, and did not remind me afterwards. The geek had become the bad-boy jock, the prep transformed into the goody-good.
Our senior year of high school rolled around, and I was screwed. My GPA was falling, my friends were stabbing me in the back, and dangit, I was single But she was still there, always there. We had both matured over the summer. She had more than I, but I liked to pretend that there was at least a comparable change in me. Amy had been gone all summer, counseling girls at some Bible camp, and I had hung around town, getting drunk every night and playing poker with my “buddies”. It was at the end of that summer that something clicked. I had gone through the whole summer helping myself up after the drunk parties, talking myself through the hours in the bathroom, and struggling with daily regrets. I had gone through the summer without her and now I needed her.
That was the year that everything changed–or maybe just I did. It wasn’t enough that she was my support system anymore–she became my life. She pulled the knives from where they had been forced into my back, and she nursed the wounds that would heal over time. I needed her and she knew it.
That senior year together was amazing. Amy was my best friend, and neither of us ever thought of wanting anything more. She helped me fill out my college applications, and I applied to all the same schools as her. I called her as soon as I pulled that massive envelope out of my green mailbox, and she came over and held my hand as I opened it.
Three months and thousands of dollars later, we were off. Both of us were seeking degrees in business, but I was mostly just following my best friend. We studied in the library everyday after classes. She poured over the massive volumes on proper business strategies, and I tried to focus on my homework. That library was beautiful: massive and antique. The smell of old books filled my nose every time I walked in, and it was a smell that I never got used to. I loved those study sessions–until she ran into him.
If she had just looked up and scooted a little over to the right, her elbow never would have jabbed his ribs, she never would have stood there apologizing, and he never would have gotten to hear that sweet, smooth voice. But she didn’t and he did. And that was that.
I watched them all through college, hearing people refer to the two just as “Luke and Amy”. I called them that, too. But to me she was so much more than just a name next to “Luke”. We graduated four years later, all three of us together. This was the big split. I went home for the summer to contemplate my future, and as far as I knew, Amy and Luke were going to continue school together.
And finally it was my turn. Amy bumped into me. During that summer, I had spent my time deciding what I wanted, and I ended up back at school. The bad-boy jock entered his fifth year of college, without failing once. She was back in the library that day. Her elbow attacked my ribs, but it was a welcomed pain. She was in my life again, and this time, there was no Luke. We dated casually for awhile. I never brought up Luke, and neither did she. I had thought he was history until I received a call from him, angry and drunk. After that, he was gone forever.
Now, it’s me and Amy–“Brad and Amy”. I never told Amy about the call, and she never mentioned him. He was gone and that was okay because we were together.

(C) 2005