My friends, chapter 2: CHRISTY

Christy Kizerian is a wonder. I met her in the fall of '98. I had thrown myself into a culture I knew next to nothing about. Growing up, I had had very few Mormon friends. Those I did have you would hardly call Mormon, in the true sense. Heathen was much more accurate. Anyhow, there I was, trying my darnedest not to look clueless, failing miserably I'm sure, and there she was. She looked clueless too but not for the same reason. We were put together at a game night activity at the Relief Society president's home. We had both forgotten how checkers was played. So, as we strained to remember whether you could jump two pieces at a time or not, we ended up bagging the whole pursuit and talking instead. It turned out, neither of us cared for board games and we pretended to play just so no one would hassle us, or worse, find out we didn't know how to play checkers.
Who was this giggly girl? She was the picture of innocence. I had never had a friend like her. Most of my friends were savvy, cynical, and careworn by age 19. She was bubbling with an unabashed bliss. Where did this joy come from? How could I ever hope to understand such a thing? She told me all about her life as a ballerina, her first month at college, and her crush on a certain handsome young man we both knew. I told her very little about myself at first. I didn't want to scare her. Our life stories wouldn't be published in same book. Indeed, it is possible they wouldn't even be sold in the same store.
Before too long we were inseparable. I found ways to explain my background to her. She didn't judge me. She was always kind and accepting. At that point it seemed necessary to explain since it was such a recent change and I really knew very little about being a young Mormon person. I suppose I wanted someone to help me acclimate culturally and understand where I was coming from. We talked about anything and everything. She taught me many things about fitness, scriptures, old movies, and cooking. I taught her about flirting, dating, music, and philosophy. I found it amazing that I had more fun doing perfectly harmless things with Christy than I had ever had being careless and reckless with other friends. And there was the added bonus of no guilt attached! It was as if a whole new reality was opening itself up to me. I remember the elation well.
Christy and I spent a lot of our time laughing. We were in the habit of eating at Kirby Lane Cafe. It turns out, Christy hated the cuisine but never had the heart to tell me until years had gone by. There I was thinking she loved it just as much as I did! (Teenage taste buds aren't that discerning you know.)
We went to her parent's house in Corpus Christy for spring break that year. She still had her crush on the hottest guy in the ward/world. I had a crush on the smartest guy in the ward/world. We wrote their names in the sand on the beach with long sticks. Christy assured me doing so would guarantee the longevity of the relationships. It might have worked if it weren't for that blasted wind storm! Alas, my relationship with that genius boy only lasted about a year. Hers was a bit shorter with her man but I think that was because she was scared of the size of his biceps. ;) Either that or her interests went elsewhere. I don't quite remember.
The years went by and a lot has happened. Christy was a bride's maid at my wedding. She came with me on my move to Chicago. We drove in my car for three days. She helped me get moved in and settled. She received me with open arms in my broken state when I returned to Austin after my divorce, just a year later. It was her turn to coach me about how to be a savvy single girl. I had completely forgotten after six and a half years. Then I was her bride's maid, maid of honor. I gave a teary speech. I was at the hospital the day her baby, Claire, was born. I've spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, spring break, and summer days at her parent's home. We still talk nearly every day. She reads everything I write. She listens to all my hopes, fears, joys, mishaps, disasters, and ideas. She 's the first person I run to when I need honest advice. I honestly don't know who I might have become without her influence in my life.
Christina, Christina, the ballerina, to you, my dear, dear, and very best friend, I love you.