Capital D For...

Best Friend

I open my eyes to that bright yellow star in the sky peeping through my sheer red and black bedroom curtains. Somewhere, I hear Megan Thee Stallion's raunchy voice chanting her hot girl theme song "Savage," springing my consciousness into present time. Another beautiful Saturday it is.

I reach for my iPhone X on the nightstand next to me. First thing you do when God blesses you to see another day? Give Him thanks!! You say. Me? Nah, I check my phone for text messages, missed calls, and social media activity. Though since we're here, "Thank You, God."

It's 7:23 am. Zero missed calls, no texts, and Facebook newsfeed is drier than the Sahara Desert. This can't be life! Usually in the mornings, my phone is overloaded with activity I missed while sleeping; my man calling and texting just to playfully annoy me, best friend sending me screenshots of her overnight shenanigans, or at least some clips from social media of Love and Hip Hop episodes I haven't seen. Not a single peep on my phone right now.

Could be that best friend, Kori, and I had gotten into a verbal fight last night.

It started out as just a typical Friday night at "Sweetie's," a downtown bar and grill with exceptional food, good drinks, and live entertainment by only the best local R&B talents. While I am the more chill "don't do anything to draw too much attention" friend, Kori is the radical border-line alcoholic friend that will stop at nothing to have her version of a good time; I'm talking skinny-dipping at Parker Creek in the middle of Winter.

She'd had way too much Capriccio Sangria, and wanted to leave with one of the guys from "Sweetie's" featured band. I watched her grind her curvy body against his, making herself the center of much attention, as the singer serenaded the crowd with a cover of "When We" by Tank. The lust in this nameless man's eyes as he gripped her full hips and thighs, grinding against her caramel brown skin just as much as she did against him, signaled to me that he was more than willing to take advantage of Kori's drunken passes and bend her over in the back of his ride if he had the chance. I wasn't having it. Besides the fact that she didn't know this man from the next, Memphis is becoming notorious for people leaving bars with strangers and never returning home to their loved ones. I know Kori is wild and has engaged in sex with strangers before, but the thought of my best friend disappearing on my watch, my sister from another mister, my ace since first grade? I couldn't bear it. I mean, she's a fully grown 27 year old woman, but I demanded her to gather what bit of dignity she had left, and follow me to my car so I could get her home safely.

The ride to her apartment was full of slurred rants about how tired she was of everyone trying to tell her what to do. As if caring for her was a crime. Between her fiancee', Eden, and her pious parents consistently encouraging her to get a grip on herself, she is fed up with the policing. And I hadn't made her frustration any better with my newfound brutal honesty.

"Think Kori Shay can get out for one night to have myself some fun without all the bitching but naaawww. You wanna play mammy too huh, Destiny," she spat. "Should've went to Sweetie's by my damn self. Then you, mama, daddy, and Eden big headed ass could've had a field day clowning Kori Shay!" The speaking in third person—I knew she was good and wasted.

   "Clowning" Kori has never been on my "things to do" list, but how do you convince a drunken woman of that? They say true feelings come from liquor-battered lips. Her words were telling me that she felt I had been in cahoots with her family all along about her immature decisions. Granted, I do agree with their concerns—but my loyalty is with Kori.

   At 13, she was molested by one of her older first cousins, a secret she has hidden from everyone except me. He forced himself on her at her house one summer night while her parents were at a church revival. Before that haunting moment, Kori was smart, shy, soft spoken, and loved attending church with her parents. Afterward, I saw a change in her. Although still very smart, she isn't the overachiever she once was, her personality took a 180, and she'd rather dance all night with a hobo than step foot in a church.

Like many sexually-abused victims, Kori has turned her silent suffering into vices. Her weapons of destruction? Empty liquor bottles and semen-stained sheets. Her parents and fiancée are blind to what happened and can't seem to wrap their minds around why she chooses to go against her better judgement. I typically don't get in the way of her doing her, but lately I have felt guilty for not intervening when I see that Kori is going too far. In a way, I have acted somewhat as an enabler. How am I being a good friend if I don't tell her the truth about herself? Especially since I'm the only one who knows the root of her habits. Last night, I had to speak up for once.

The problem is, I don't just know everything about Kori; she knows everything about me. So hearing me tell her that she needed to put an end to her self-destructive behavior sent her down a list of all of the reasons I should clean the dirt from my own eye. 

"See, this is the reason your engagement is on the line now. You don't know how to respond to people actually caring about your spoiled ass. You think Eden wants to marry someone he has to practically baby because she doesn't know how to use her brain? He's doing right to reconsider spending the rest of his life with you," I spat.

 Kori exploded. Cussed me out with expletives I didn't even know existed.

Once we made it to her apartment, she got out of my black Nissan Altima and slammed the car door so hard, it shook the entire vehicle. I still expected her to call or text though. We've had big arguments before, nothing that would break the bond we have built over twenty plus years.

This morning doesn't feel right without her calls or texts.

Maybe she's just hungover and will hit me up later, I think to myself. It's rather early, after all.