I always played second fiddle to Adria
Adria and I found each other in the chaos of high school, both of us misfits. Together we weathered a lot of small-town teenage storms. We were inseparable.
Like every high school, our school had its share of cheerleaders. Beautiful, thin girls we all envied. But Adria had something all her own. Something that all the makeup and curling irons in the world couldn't buy. Men were drawn to her like bees to a flower. Long, blonde hair. Loose curls, a practiced flip. She'd bat those long eyelashes, open her blue eyes wide, and cast a spell. Being around Adria it felt like the rest of the world just fell away and no one else mattered but her. I may as well have been invisible to the boys we met. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
Like any school we had the kids who always got A's. The types who studied hard, always brought their books, never missed a homework assignment. Adria got A's without any apparent effort. Schoolwork came so easily to her. She did her French homework in Chemistry class, Chemistry homework during Trigonometry, never listened for a minute in class, and still aced every exam. I don't remember ever seeing her do homework after school but she outscored me on every assignment. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
When Adria laughed her entire body would shake. We had our own way to communicate, as only teenage girls can, I suppose. A sidelong glance was all it took for both of us to be doubled over with laughter. While I wallowed in worry about what college I'd get into or what boy liked or didn't like me, Adria laughed and seemed to live without care. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
Adria was generous to a fault. One year for Christmas she went shopping at the fancy downtown department store, back when our town had a downtown. She got me a lace negligee as a gift. I was 16 and couldn't imagine when I'd wear it or how I'd hide it from my parents. In her usual magnanimous way she told me I'd look great in it, a gift probably greater at the time than the negligee itself. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
Adria and I grew apart. No reason in particular, our lives just went in different directions. I thought of her often over the past 20 years but never was able to track her down. Until I heard the word from her sister that Adria is gone.
Adria's body lies in a small cemetery in Schenevus, NY. One December morning she decided she didn't want to wake up ever again and she ended her own life. I hope to visit the cemetery soon. I want to tell her she was more beautiful, smarter, kinder and more generous than I ever was or could be. I want to tell her I love her. I always played second fiddle to you, Adria, but it was always enough for me. I'd give anything to sit beside you again.
Like every high school, our school had its share of cheerleaders. Beautiful, thin girls we all envied. But Adria had something all her own. Something that all the makeup and curling irons in the world couldn't buy. Men were drawn to her like bees to a flower. Long, blonde hair. Loose curls, a practiced flip. She'd bat those long eyelashes, open her blue eyes wide, and cast a spell. Being around Adria it felt like the rest of the world just fell away and no one else mattered but her. I may as well have been invisible to the boys we met. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
Like any school we had the kids who always got A's. The types who studied hard, always brought their books, never missed a homework assignment. Adria got A's without any apparent effort. Schoolwork came so easily to her. She did her French homework in Chemistry class, Chemistry homework during Trigonometry, never listened for a minute in class, and still aced every exam. I don't remember ever seeing her do homework after school but she outscored me on every assignment. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
When Adria laughed her entire body would shake. We had our own way to communicate, as only teenage girls can, I suppose. A sidelong glance was all it took for both of us to be doubled over with laughter. While I wallowed in worry about what college I'd get into or what boy liked or didn't like me, Adria laughed and seemed to live without care. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
Adria was generous to a fault. One year for Christmas she went shopping at the fancy downtown department store, back when our town had a downtown. She got me a lace negligee as a gift. I was 16 and couldn't imagine when I'd wear it or how I'd hide it from my parents. In her usual magnanimous way she told me I'd look great in it, a gift probably greater at the time than the negligee itself. I always played second fiddle to Adria.
Adria and I grew apart. No reason in particular, our lives just went in different directions. I thought of her often over the past 20 years but never was able to track her down. Until I heard the word from her sister that Adria is gone.
Adria's body lies in a small cemetery in Schenevus, NY. One December morning she decided she didn't want to wake up ever again and she ended her own life. I hope to visit the cemetery soon. I want to tell her she was more beautiful, smarter, kinder and more generous than I ever was or could be. I want to tell her I love her. I always played second fiddle to you, Adria, but it was always enough for me. I'd give anything to sit beside you again.