Monday, December 1, 2025

Birds of a Feather Flock Apart

 Prompt - Upside Down (400 words): “I will start out this evening with an assertion: fantasy is a place where it rains.” – Italo Calvino, Six Memos for the Next Millennium (1988). Write a story in which common assertions are turned upside down in the vein of Italo Calvino’s statement above. Perhaps a commuter sees the packed subway train as a melting pot of psychologists, artists, and philosophers. “The ultimate meaning to which all stories refer has two faces: the continuity of life, the inevitability of death.” – Italo Calvino, If On a Winter's Night a Traveler (1979).

***


    I don’t always like my best friend.    

    Oh, don’t get me wrong, we can talk about anything. And after we are apart - for months, sometimes when I demand it - when we get together, it’s like we were never separated.   

    But ... whenever she screams at a female employee, Jamie donates to feminist causes out of guilt. And because she’s a control freak with anger issues, she’s on the boards of at least five national feminist organizations.  

    I think she loves me because I don’t hold my tongue around her; she knows I love her fiercely, and I force her to respect my sometimes unreasonable boundaries.  (She’s not the only control-freak, here).  

    But she’s crazy-loyal, and if I need her, she’ll be at my side in a heartbeat. She rarely promises anything, but when she does, she’s compulsive about keeping them.

    When I found out I was pregnant a few days after my ex walked out, she promised to be there with me when the time came, and she kept that promise even though I spent the next nine months ranting at her, at the world, and at my ex. When I went into labor, Jamie walked out of one of her board meetings, drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital, and, in the 36 hours since, had barely left my side.   

    But, whenever she stepped outside - to get me ice chips, to get a nurse, to bully the janitor into cleaning somewhere else, to drag in the anesthesiologist, she left a swath of destruction 10 miles wide.  People would enter my room and look at me warily, glance at Jamie, and then their looks changed to such … pity.

    “Jamie,” I puffed between rhythmic breaths, “promise me something.”

    “Yeah? What do you need?”

    “Take my baby in case I die.”  

    She turned pale. “Kate, you are NOT going to die today. I will NOT allow it.”

    I paused for a contraction. “Jamie, don’t be a bitch. Of course, I’m not going to die today.  It’s - if I get hit by a bus or something.”

    She’d never wanted kids, but there was no hesitation. “Yes, I’ll raise her.”

    “Just … promise me that you’ll love her like you do me, never ever abuse her like you do your underlings. And … teach her to be nicer than either of us.”  There was a very long two-contraction-worth pause while I waited for her to answer.  

    She scowled at me, then took a deep breath. “I promise, but … I don’t know how I’ll manage that last one.”

    “You’ll figure it out.”

    “Yes, I will.”

-- Oct 19, 2022

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