For Carrie

"Hey, I’m Carrie." The cheerful voice came from a young woman wearing navy blue shorts with a ruffled border and a University of Maryland red T-shirt tucked into them. I glanced over my shoulder. The other tables were empty.

"Oh hey,” I said as she took a seat next to me. “My name is Danielle." A subtle rose scent filled my nostrils. I couldn’t help but stare at her French tipped nails while I hid mine under the table.

She continued. "I saw you around a few times during freshman orientation. What are you majoring in?"

“In Bio. And you?

"Lit." Her posture was perfect and confident.

This was the beginning of our friendship. Very few people spoke to me during my high school days—a short, round-faced teenager with freckles. I’d spent the majority of my life in foster care with a dream of graduating from college and earning a PhD in neuroscience. I guess that made me pretty focused.

Carrie was a free-spirited girl who grew up in Utah. We spent every minute we could together after that initial meet.

"Hey Danielle, I booked us something really fun today,” she’d say, followed by, “Now don't you look at me like that? Don't you trust me?

My idea of fun was much different from Carrie's. This time, I rolled my eyes before I turned my back to her and adjusted myself beneath the soft cotton blanket. A small digit dug into my back.

We had taken spring break in Costa Rica. That was enough excitement for me.

"The bus will be here in an hour," said Carrie. She had the biggest smile, and I knew she was up to no good.

The bus turned out to be a van, with wooden bench seats and poor suspension. It took a sharp turn from the main road onto a dirt road.

We came to a stop in a shady clearing where wet leaves littered the ground. A dense canopy of tall trees stood before us with thick woody vines wrapping themselves around the trunks. Their strong stems formed a staircase that rose from the ground towards the sunlight above the leafy canopy.

Hot but moist air surrounded us. I couldn't help but twirl around to take in all this beauty. Nestled between all the trees was a turquoise-colored lake. Carrie’s eyes lit up. My heart raced.

"This is so beautiful." I longed to go in for a swim.

"Let's go up there." Carrie pointed to a flight of stairs and a tree house where other people waited.

"What's up there?" I asked nervously.

"You'll see." Her cheeks were rosy pink.

We swung from the tree house out in the air over the cool water. My fingers clutched the fibers of the rope while Carrie tickled me forcing them loose. My arms and legs were tightly bound around Carrie, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs as we fell. Out of the million and one things to do in Costa Rica on a spring break, she decided on this. I had to admit it– we had fun.

Anyone who met Carrie described her as one of the sweetest and most nonjudgmental of human beings. Although we had our differences, they created a strong bond between us.

When she first noticed the lump on her breast, we knew it was nothing to agonize about. I went with her to every appointment, including the day when the doctor said the word cancer. We made a pledge-she would fight and beat it.

She would talk to her cancer like it was a human being,

"I'm much stronger than you think. We are both going into the boxing ring and I assure you the only person claiming victory, is me. You are not going to win."

She got the partial mastectomy and radiation therapy. We celebrated by getting matching bull tattoos as a reminder of strength and courage. I have yet to determine exactly how she did it. How she stayed so positive about everything, telling me not to worry. But who gets breast cancer in their early twenties when they are still truly beginning to relish life? I grew angry for her. She always remained in great spirits.

One day I walked into my dorm room and there was a brown manila envelope in the center of my bed. No address labels.

"What is it?"

"You should open it." She motioned for me to sit down and placed the envelope in my hands.

"I hope it's not one of your dare-devil surprises," I said while my fingers glided beneath the white clear tape and ripped through the seams of the envelope.

My eyes shifted from one word to another beginning at the top of the page until I got to the last punctuation mark. By then my hands shook so much causing the single sheet of paper to slip between my fingers onto the floor.

"You did this for me?" My voice almost non-existent between sobs. Words could not express my gratitude.

With Carrie's help and encouragement, I finally called the number belonging to my mother. I did not know what to expect—maybe a mother who would be happy to hear from me or a sad story about how she did not want to give me up. I will never forget what she said when I told her who I was.

"Don't you ever call this phone again. Stay far away from me and my family." Followed by a click and the dial tone. Tears had formed but wouldn't flow. I found it difficult to breathe. The atmosphere grew dark and dense. No words came out of my mouth and in my head rough waves lashed at my brain.

"What happened?" Carrie forced the phone out of my hands while I stared at the bare wall.

She wiped my tears, listened to my sobs and reminded me of how much I was loved. But instead of being grateful for what she had done. I pushed her away—the only family I had, and I blamed her for encouraging me to seek out my biological family. I saw her as the cause of all of my pain.

By the time we graduated from college, we no longer spoke to one another. Two people who had become more than best friends sadly became strangers. I eventually retreated into my cocoon and gave up on my dream of becoming a neuroscientist. Instead, I accepted a job as a third-grade science teacher.

This was my weekly routine: wake up, shower, breakfast, class, dinner, shower, bed. I stayed away from social media and often wondered what Carrie was up to. In my mind, she was continuing on with her PhD in literature. Maybe she had found the love of her life like we talked about. I didn't want to admit it, but I missed her a lot.

Three years had gone by and life for me remained the same. I returned home from work to a flashing yellow light on the phone. I recognized the voice and was immediately filled with trepidation.

"Danielle, I'm sorry to be bothering you, but there is something I want you to know. The cancer is back, and they're saying that my chance of survival is low. " Not the Carrie I remembered. There were cracks in her voice when she spoke. It was soft, missing its usual cheer.

I gave her a call and just listened carefully.

I refused to believe it. I told her she would beat it again, just like she did the last time. I remembered running my shaky hands over my bull tattoo while the tears trickled down my face. This whole time I thought she moved to a different state and now I discovered we had been living within forty minutes of each other all this time. It was upsetting to me. We made plans to meet the next day.

I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel. A bottle of virgin strawberry daiquiri and a scrabble board nestled in the front passenger seat. Once I opened the door and my feet touched the ground, it became real. Carrie was waiting for me inside.

A brief pause outside her door, I knocked gently, wondering if I should knock a little louder. Then I heard the latch pulled back, and the door slowly opened.

"Oh my gosh Carrie! You have not changed! " I said as she wrapped her arms around me. I almost tripped.

"Sorry about that" and with her hands over her mouth, we both exploded into a laughing fit. Then she continued. "Let me help you... Oh, I can't believe you brought the scrabble board. I haven't played in years. You really think you are able to beat me this time?"

"Heck yeah!" I said confidently. "I've had years of practice."

We spent the remainder of the night the same way we left off—as best friends.

"Dating anyone?" She asked teasingly.

"Nope! Tell me about your job."

"Don't try to change the subject lady. I know what you're doing?"

"No special someone?" as she moved closer to me batting her eyelids.

"No." I repeated.

"Oh, Danielle, Come here." Her warm arms embraced my upper body. The idea of being loved was difficult to accept.

We continued to catch up. I learned about Carrie's 'loser' ex- boyfriend who wasn't supportive, especially with her recent diagnosis. Despite everything, Carrie lived her life by doing what she enjoyed with minimal excuses.

We took a trip to Orlando and Carrie longed for the opportunity get on the sling shot ride. It propelled you 190 feet into the sky at 100 mph. Another one of her catapulting fun things to do. I tagged along for Carrie.

I celebrated my survival after the ride with a strawberry cheesecake ice cream in a waffle cone and Carrie had the banana split in a bowl.

"You have to stop being so afraid Danielle. Don't be so hard on yourself."

All I could do was sigh.

"Are you listening to me?” said Carrie, and she began her 'self-love' talk again. “This world needs a Danielle in it. Stop comparing your past and your current circumstances to others. Spend as much time loving you and accepting that you deserve love too. You are a smart and attractive woman."

She just doesn't understand, I thought. I dug a hole in the ground using the corner of my sandals. Then she placed her cold hand on the bottom of my chin and raised my head.

She looked me in the eye. "You promise me you will go back to school. You have to become a neuroscientist. It has always been your dream."

The corners of my mouth tilted up slightly and I hoped she would be satisfied.

"I promise I will and you will be right there beside me when I complete the degree."

"Of course, I will!" A ray of sunshine seemed to take over her soul.

Florida was our last trip together. Carrie unfortunately didn't win this time. The universe plotted against me and in its vileness, took my best friend away from me. I remember crying until my eyes gave up on producing any more tears—my eyelids were so puffy and red.

I kept my promise to Carrie and recently began my neuroscience residency. I couldn't have thanked her enough for forcing me to finally live my life.