Coloring is hard, friendships are harder

“When can I come over?” she messaged me.

I panicked. Does she know I am boring, feeble, and can’t offer anything except Fiji water?

For months, I had been writing the saddest story of abandonment (starring ME) in my head. None of my friends had visited me since my diagnosis. Unable to leave my house, I wished for movie nights and home cooked meals. When wishing proved futile, I alluded to my chronic illness fantasies on Facebook to no avail.

What if we have nothing to talk about and she decides I’m a total loser? Do you know what’s worse than no friends? Rejection. I hope she forgets me entirely. 

“Wednesday?” she messaged me.

Either I would have to accept her offer or wither alone in my hypocrisy. I reminded myself that she used to work in home care, and therefore was professionally trained to deal with my awkwardness. “Okay,” I said.

She did not arrive alone. Behind her, she pulled a suitcase full of coloring books, pens, and markers. We spread them across the table and began coloring our respective pages. I don’t usually enjoy coloring, but I was thankful to have company and something to focus on other than my 43,295 allergies.

Over the next several months, she continued to visit and even gave me a poodle coloring book. I warmed up to these visits. Maybe a bit too much.

Damnit, I wrecked the best poodle in this book. I couldn’t have picked an uglier color. Now I’m going to burn the whole book. I growled with frustration and showed my friend.

“Well you don’t have to sell it!” she exclaimed. I was stunned by her frankness, and then I laughed. A true friend doesn’t sugar coat your ugly poodle.

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