“True friends are hard to find, and if you find one, keep them close.”
As I’m sitting here on the Chirstmasy dining table (the table cloth is dark red and it has a holiday feeling to it) while listening to mellow jazz, I was scrolling through my useless Facebook feed. You gotta do these mundane little things sometimes, you know? Like scrolling through your Facebook timeline to know that your friends are still alive and doing well – yeah, I care about people around me even though I do not show it much.
I see some of my close friends online but I hesitated for a bit whether to chat them up. I didn’t want to, because I just really hate keeping in touch with someone through technology. And the worst way to make sure your connection with someone stays strong is definitely through some messenger, which doesn’t even fully convey what you’re feeling at the moment. Sure, I can type to them a long paragraph of words and what has been happening to me but it just doesn’t work for me. Quality face time is what I need. I’ll be doing that once I hit home.
I have very few friends, and they’re all very quirky and eccentric in their own way, just like me. I remember this half-assed (I’m being sarcastic) farewell dinner I had before I left home. Aman was obliged to cook me good dinner because I was their guest at home. Sheena and Chetan just came back from a food fest so only Aman and I were the only ones who were going to eat. God, Aman’s cooking was horrible. I was hungry so I just ate it anyway.
“Nigga, you want some mayo in the sauce?” – said the self appraised cook while looking at me with his chef-mode-on face. I couldn’t take him seriously and I just started laughing. “Really, Aman?
Fucking mayo? No thanks man,” I said while shaking my head and laughing at the same time.
“Never mind, I’ll offer you some tea, since I’m such a gentleman. Here, let me do it for you,” and he grabs a handful of teabags and throws them to the table and tells me to choose one. Being the brat I am, I told him I do not know which tastes best (I wasn’t paying attention to him since I had my head buried in some sort of derivative securities management textbook).
“God, Megan. You’re such a self entitled little brat at times,” he shakes his head while randomly picking out something for me. I smile a little because I know that’s his way of showing that he would still be my friend even though I can get annoying sometimes.
I’d rather have friends who would give me sarcastic replies when I’m being annoying, you know? In a way, you know that deep down inside they care about you and everyone’s just messing around with each other. I like friends like that.
I barged into their bedroom after my meal. Sheena was sleeping while Chetan was just chilling. “Hey, good luck with your girlfriend,” I told him. Yeah, that dude landed himself a chick. Aman thinks they’re both in love since they tickle each other and laugh a lot. I smile because it reminds me of Daniel and I. He barges in a few moments after and told everyone the tale of how he attempted to mix mayo with pasta. Chetan was disgusted. I laughed.
That night made me feel like that was my second home. I’ve only been to their apartment once but I felt at home right away. It was hard parting ways but I’ll see them again next year. Truly good friends give really good and sincere hugs. I felt like I was going to cry because they’re a part of me too. We don’t hang out a lot but when we do, we just click right away. No amount of time spent apart together will dilute our friendship.
I wonder whether Chetan will have his beard shaved off once I’m back. Maybe the mayo guy will have his afro cut, and goddamn it. How could I forget? I wouldn’t be seeing Sheena for a long time. Maybe when I’ll see her she’ll come back with a British boyfriend.
For the record, Mayo is Tanzanian, Beard Guy is Mauritian and Fab Girl is Kadazandusunese. It’s funny how you get better companionship when everyone is ethnically diverse.
All my true friends and I form a huge melting pot, and we’re fine with that, because that’s what gives it life.