The Best Friend

It was Mike’s going away party. He was deploying the following weekend for a year, leaving his wife to handle the stress of her first pregnancy alone. The young couple invited over their closest friends, including my fiancé and I, for some beer and good conversation. Music filled the air as we sat around laughing and chatting about what to expect when you’re expecting; then she walked in.

It was as if the world stopped spinning. Standing at 5’9 with long red hair, Molly was everything I was not: thin, beautiful, and confident. My fiancé stood up instinctively and made his way over to her. Laughing, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her on her porcelain cheek. While this woman was impossibly beautiful, she was also his best friend.

Reminding myself that he loved us differently, I tried to ignore the gaze they held a little too long and the amount she touched him while they were talking. I looked down at the ring that adorned my left hand. Suddenly, it felt heavy and all I could see in it was the way his eyes lit up when he saw her, his best friend.

Thinking back, I could remember when he had called me his best friend. I was once that person to him. I was until I wasn’t, and she was right there to pick up where I had left off. My stomach started to twist into knots and their laughs were echoing in my head louder and louder until finally I snapped. I grabbed my fiancé’s hand and complained of feeling nauseous. This wasn’t entirely false as the mixture of alcohol and his hands on Molly had heightened my gag reflex. While driving home, I stared silently out the windshield trying to forget the night.

Word Count: 300