Listening to one of the soundtracks of my life...
Cory and I were best friends. I had never really had a best friend, at least, not like Cory. We vaguely knew each other in junior high school, where I saw her as one of the cool, popular girls. She wore the required corduroy boot flare Levis and navy blue peacoat with elan, she hung out with other cool girls on the field and I suspected she had actually kissed a boy. I found out later that she was just as insecure and unhappy as I was, but at the time, she was out of my sphere.
Our paths crossed about 3 years later, when we were in a summer musical together. Once again, we had little contact. She had an aloof quality that intimidated the hell out of me. The following summer, we both auditioned for the lead role in that summer's musical:
Mame. I got it and was advised by many of the cast members that Cory hated me for it. During rehearsals, I was sure she was sabotaging me at every turn. Yeah, it was all about me. *rolls eyes*
My role required that I spend a lot of time with the dancers. (Mame is pretty much a triple-threat part; singing, dancing and acting.) Cory was one of the dancers and quite at home there. I was the interloper, the token non-dancer, not to mention the outsider who had stolen her part. My insecurities about Cory's "hatred" of me continued, although the other dancers began assuring me that she did not, in fact, dislike me. As we were both newly addicted to the glamour of smoking Marlboros (the red brand in the hard box), we often found ourselves spending some break time together, lounging on the grass underneath the trees outside our rehearsal area. I started to think that maybe Cory wasn't such a bitch after all.
The moment of realization that this girl was far more to me came during one of our rehearsals. One of the numbers in
Mame required that I be hoisted just above the stage and then lowered, while lounging on a wood cut-out of a moon. I am pretty dicey about heights, but that was the price of this particular stardom, so I climbed on board. Instead of lifting me up just above the curtain, the stagehands thought it would be a kick to lift me all the way to the top of the fly space--another 15 feet higher-- and leave me there. I thought I was going to die from fright and was too scared to even make a sound. I simply clutched at my moon and shook. The stagehands were busting themselves laughing when Cory strode onto the stage in an absolutely fury. "She's afraid of heights, you idiots! Get her down right this minute!!" she shouted, glaring at them. They did, and my former enemy helped me down, wrapped her arms around me and took me off to recover. I imagine Marlboros were involved.
We were inseparable for the rest of the summer. A new friendship is as intense as a love affair. We would spend hours sitting outside our houses in the car, talking about everything and nothing. We would make late night trips to the local coffee shops, where we would consume gallons of coffee and smoke too many cigarettes. We crushed on boys and made plans for the future.
In September, she went off to UC Berkeley and I got in my car and drove to UC Santa Cruz. We corresponded weekly--I still have the letters tucked away-- each one 5-8 pages long. My life is recorded in those letters, as hers is recorded in mine. On holidays, we just picked up where we left off. During the summer holiday, Cory got me a job at Marine World Africa USA, where I fell in love and lost my virginity, while Cory was the belle of the ball, dating boy after boy. We listened to music, usually Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac or Broadway musicals, drank coffee and smoked our cigarettes--Virginia Slims by this time. That was our pattern through our years of university.
Years went by. I was the bridesmaid for her wedding. She moved to Houston, then Colorado. She got divorced and moved back to California, where she hooked up with some old uni buddies, fell in love again and got remarried. I attended her second wedding, but our lives had drifted apart. She came to my wedding. She had babies and moved to the East Coast. We met up one more time about 10 years ago, when she was here on business. She was living in Connecticut with two beautiful children and her loving husband. I was on the verge of ending my marriage, but we didn't have the time or space to talk about it. I got her address, but lost it.
Today, I put
Turnstiles in the CD player. As soon as the first song came on, my mind went back 30 years ago to one of the best times and friends of my life.
Cory, I miss you.
