Suzy still comes up in my life, like when I find out a fellow Redding escapee plays in one of my favorite bands -- well, he was Suzy's prom date. Wait, was it prom or some other dance? I just know that there was red polka-dot involved.
Esp and I, one of us will mention her: "Remember when we went to Viking Skate Country and Suzy almost got in that fight with that jerkoff who was making fun of her dress?" Suzy was fearless, but you are when you don't think you have anything to lose.
Esp and I will get quiet when we talk about her. Our normally high-pitched, raucous-laughter-infused, boisterous room-filling back-and-forth will immediately come to a hushed standstill, and we will look down, we will be silent, and we will be sad.
Or Sam, who I always forget knew Suzy because I always forget we went to high school together because we didn�t meet until our moms set us up on a playdate when we both lived in San Francisco, will say something like, �You know that orange dress Suzy used to wear?�
�The one she got for fifty cents at Ross?�
�Yeah, that one.� And our conversation, normally deliberate and intricate, pregnant with contemplative pauses, so-intense-no-one-else-in-the-room-matters, will stop, and we will look down, and we will be silent, and we will be sad.
