Best Friend Grim

My best friend’s name is Grim. Well, maybe not best friend. Actually, I wouldn’t call us friends. We are just long-time acquaintances. He visits me often and shows up at the worst possible times. The thing about him is that he never makes me feel better. He makes me feel worse. He constantly degrades me. He even has the ability to destroy my day in a matter of seconds. Now that I think about it, I think it’s a one-sided relationship. I don’t really know him. I don’t even know why he likes to hang out with me. I’m a pretty standard girl. I procrastinate, imagine my life is going great when it isn’t and pretend main characters in films are me. Grim is kind of creepy and his full name really strikes something in me as well. His last name? Reaper.

It’s the grim reaper. I know the grim reaper.

Yeah, I know it’s a stretch, but I can confidently say he knows me well. Really well. Maybe that’s why he’s too scared to truly do anything. On more than one occasion he’s tried to collect me and each time it’s probably because he misses me more than the previous encounter. But when I tell you the stories there is no way. Absolutely no way, you can deny the utter truth.

It started with the small stuff, the early stages of our relationship. Like the day I found out I was allergic to peanuts (this is important to remember for later). It was Halloween circa 2006 and I was in the kitchen with my sister. She handed me a Recess peanut butter cup. I ate it and next thing I know he was just standing there. I introduced myself like the friendly kid I was, not knowing this would cause such a strong lifelong attraction.

I went years without seeing him until he started showing up everywhere. He was sitting next to me at my dining room table when a scorpion thought it was a great idea to scurry up my neck and sting me with its venom. He stayed until the scar faded away. Grim smirked at me at the top of my household stairs my junior year of high school when I tripped up them and my metal bracelet slashed through a layer of skin exposing my bone. He lingered in the ER as my doctor told me it missed my vein by a centimeter. He even had the audacity to be sitting in my passenger seat senior year when I swerved my car away from an oncoming 18-wheeler on the freeway. There have been more meetings, but one still sits fresh in my mind.

I ended our friendship three weeks ago.

That was the worst encounter.

It all started after I came back from a club meeting. I wasn’t feeling particularly great about the people I met and needed to take the edge off. What better way than to have something that could put me into a coma. A food coma that is. I got back to my dorm and my roommate suggested Insomnia Cookies. I had never been before so I thought it would be the prefect opportunity. We started our quest. It was a Tuesday night on September 10th. I got a chocolate chunk cookie and completely disregarded my many food allergies (soy and peanuts in this specific case but the list goes on) for the sake of one bite of happiness. It just happened to be Bachelor in Paradise night in my dorm room. My roommate and I would get some of the guys on our floor to watch the show with us. Sooner rather than later everyone was hooked, and it became a weekly occurrence. Needless to say, it was one of those nights. Chris Harrison was getting ready to announce the rose ceremony when I felt it: the nausea, the inability to breathe and my impending doom.

I constantly eat things I’m not supposed to and just sleep off the pain, but this was not one of those instances. Because I have always been “so careful” and have never needed my EpiPen, I did not bring it to college. Stupid. I know. I sat up immediately and started gasping for air. This caught everyone’s attention and the race against time began. It all happened so quickly. One moment I’m on my dorm room floor and the next I’m down the hall in my friends Sam’s room downing Benadryl with OJ. I refused to go to the hospital until I realized it was the only way I would survive.

Grim followed the RA (residence assistant), my roommate and I down the elevator. Still not being able to breathe correctly, I was completely out of it. The University has cab vouchers if a student has to make it to a hospital and it is nice that they offer it for free. When the cab got to the dorm I live in, I stumbled in, Grim squeezing in after me. The ride to the hospital was smooth sailing if you ignore the fact that I was dying. It’s the hospital itself that was not the greatest experience.

The University sent us to the Boston Medical Center. You know the one. The hospital where people get stabbed in front of. The hospital that’s notorious for a bad story time. This was the one. It was already 10 o’clock at night when we arrived. They took their time checking me in and Grim told me this was the end. He laughed as a I suffered, and he found his amusement for the night. Me. The doctors hooked me up to machines, checked my vitals and pumped me with steroids. I even got the complementary judgment from the doctor when she yelled at me for not stabbing myself with an EpiPen. It was 3am when they decided to discharge me. And by discharge me I mean leave the room and tell me to exit through the door on the right at the end of the hall when I was done. Mind you, I still had the EKG stickers on my chest, the thing that squishes your finger until you can’t feel it any more monitoring my pulse and a whole lot of empty help. I was in disbelief. I quickly got my clothes on and ripped everything off. Well not everything. I still had three sticky EKG things on my chest with no idea how to remove them. With myself drugged up on steroids and my roommate tired as ever, we decided it was time to call the cab. The night was about to end. Grim was saying goodbye. I was okay ... or so I fricken thought.

The cab was simply not arriving. We waited in the sketchy lobby of the Boston Medical Center for 30 minutes before we gave up. We just wanted to go home. That’s when we called an Uber. It was to arrive in 4 minutes and only cost me nine dollars. Nine dollars I will never get back. It would also be a good time to add the fact that my phone was at seven percent charge and was slowly dwindling.

The uber arrived on time. A gray Toyota Camry. We got in the car. Alejandro was his name. Medium built, a bit on the larger side and a smile that could make you shrivel up in a second. He was too nice. He was too nice. He gave me his smile and with extra emphasis welcomed my roommate and I into his car. Of course, Grim joined too. The ride was going smooth and I felt like I was floating through time because of the medication I was on. That is until the car stopped. Cold turkey. Hard break. Dayton and Massachusetts Avenue. In the middle of an empty street. At 3 o’clock in the morning. With my phone on three percent charge. I heard the a clicking noise echo through the car and my roommate and I looked at each other so fast I think I suffered from whiplash. He had just child locked us in.

He quickly got out of the car and slammed the door, announcing he had to get something from his trunk. Never in my life has my flight or fight response been activated but the time was now. With tears strolling down our faces as we tried to get out of the car, I tried to break the child lock. My best friends back home used to do it all the time with me and luckily, I knew how to get out. Three clicks dangerously fast to safety.

Click. Click. Click.

In a second we were running down an empty street with hot tears flowing from our eyes. We didn’t look back, but we heard a door slam, a curse and the sound of a car speeding off. Grim stayed in the car. That’s when the friendship was lost. We sobbed as I dialed 9-1-1 on one percent charge. It’s funny how long your phone can last on one percent. Moments later we were in the police station reciting the story to officers. We were there until 4AM rehashing the events and my friend Nick joined us after my roommate called him. Two near death experiences in a matter of hours. My new record. The police looked up the license plate of the uber driver and found out it was a rented car purely for kidnapping. I mean Uber. It was then I realized I had left my school ID in the car and had no way of getting back into my dorm building. The officers escorted us back to our dorm and the night was over. I would have to get a new $40 ID in the morning.

I obviously did not sleep that night for I had an 8am class I had to go to. My Wednesday creative writing class. With my three sticky EKG’s still stuck to my chest, a minor swollen throat and steroids in my system, I somberly strolled into a confusing education building, wondering when I would get the chance to write about my night. I have yet to see Grim since that night and he has yet to apologize. He probably thinks we’re still friends and yes, we definitely know each other. Do you believe me now?

To be honest, I kind of miss Grim. Morbid. I know. There’s just nothing like a near death experience to put your life into perspective. As awful as everything that has happened to me is, I wouldn’t take those moments back for a single second. They have taught me what to do in impossible situations and what not to do, like call an uber at 3am in a sketchy neighborhood. As I grow older, I will rely on Grim to always show me the dos and don’ts of day to day living. Even though Grim dangles death in my face every few months, I have the power to snatch it right out of his hand (even if I’m not quite fast enough).

So, see you in the afterlife Grim. There we can hang out more. There we can finally be best friends.