In April of 1999, I met an amazing young woman. No, it wasn’t me. We went through training together and became instant friends. I make friends quite easily, but this was easier than easy, it felt natural, normal. I felt like I had known her my whole life after just the first day of being around her. She took her seat next to me and that was the beginning of getting to know someone I would love dearly. She became the best friend I’ve ever had, someone I would later dub my little sister.
The first week of July, we became room mates after I moved towns to share a flat with her. I had so much fun with her, talking into the late hours, laughing and joking, and talking cryptically about guys with her when they stood right in front of us. She literally filled a space in my heart that I didn’t know was empty.
We would head to work to IBM together, we both worked in the call centre logging hardware fault calls for huge corporations, small businesses and end users: my desk in the UK team, and hers in the Italian team, 100 feet from me. At home, she would teach me Italian (which I learned to almost speak fluently after just 5 months, thanks to her) and I would teach her how to speak English with a Scottish accent. She was very convincing and was mistaken for someone from Glasgow many times.
In December of that year, I moved to California and was so sad to leave her. She had become such an important and integral part of my life. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Little did I know I would be so crushed literally months later. And just because of something I didn’t do.
to be continued…
a Brit different 