She sat to my left. We were practically strangers, surrounded by mutual friends. The waitress brought us waters with lemon. She asked for an bowl of lemon wedges and I shot her an occasional sideways glance as she consumed them one at a time with great relish. A freshman at college, I was wide-eyed, excited, desperate for relationships. Grabbing a 10PM dinner at the local Dennys with a bunch of music majors seemed like the type of impulsive collegiate decision I was now free to make.
I looked around long table, wishing there was someone near me that I actually knew and could chat with. The girl consuming lemons next to me started telling me about her summer vacation. The lemons must have whetted her whistle, because once she got going there was no getting a word in edgewise. Italy sounded wonderful, and what a cool way to get there--serving with the Salvation Army for a few weeks. Still, it was an unrelenting blow-by-blow of the sights, the sounds, the tastes, and I'm afraid I was distracted enough by everything else going on around me that I wasn't very receptive. I leaned over to the person on my right and whispered, "Boy, she sure talks a lot!"
The summary trailed off... I glanced to my left again and Lemon Girl had absolutely heard my "hushed" whisper. Ashamed, I apologized profusely for my rudeness. She was gracious to accept, but the rest of the evening passed awkwardly, damaged by my stupidity.
Four years later she affixed my veil, fluffed my dress, carried my bouquet, and wept bittersweet tears on my wedding day. Five years after that I did the same for her. Best friends come in the most unexpected ways.
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