Jessica and I went to school together for as long as I've been going to school. Through velcro shoes, lock-up jeans, and those thermal shirts that changed color when they got touched (why where those popular again?), we've always gone to school together. Grades 1-12. Her locker was next to mine in grade 8. She was the worst player on our volleyball team yet everyone always told her she did a good job, and made nice plays. It seemed the nicer people tried to be to her, the meaner she got.
Jessica saying "hi" to me when we see each other is like a math equation dependent on many factors. Who I'm with (more people equal a greater chance of a hi, and if it's guys I'm with? She wants to hold hands and suddenly her laugh begins to resemble Julia Roberts minus the sincerity), how many drinks she's had (again, more equals a better chance of a "hi", but instead of hand holding she wants to hug for too long, like a grandma who you never see) and whether or not she's stranded alone at a table waiting for someone to show up (if she's alone, suddenly we are long lost sisters).
I've always found this more amusing than annoying. I'm not saintly, but I would rather get frustrated at people who leave their pets in cars while they take long lunches than at a girl who is more fake than a $3 bill. I think I just like to reserve my frustration for those who have truly earned it.
Today however, Jessica took this all to a new level...
Scene: I'm cruising the grocery store trying to tell myself I will still live a long life if I don't buy the really expensive pomegranate juice. I see Jessica standing by the organic carrots with a robotic man wearing every shade of beige possible. Because I'm normal, I say "hi". She gives me a puzzled look like she's confused. So, because I'm not clear what she would be confused about, I walk over...
Me: Hi! How are you?
Jessica: (begins miming what she must assume 'confusion' would look like if she pulled it out of a hat during a game of charades. She's all head scratching and squinty eyed, as though blurring her vision is going to cause her to remember everyday we sat next to each other in Science class our last year of school, or the fact that two weeks ago she chatted with me in line at the movies.)
Me: It's Brandy...
Jessica: Hmm.. (at this point she's doing some head shaking too, like by violently moving her head the memory of me will fall into place. Keep in mind, there were 60 kids in our grade in elementary school. We know each other.)
Me: Um, we went to school together? (And because I'm
Jessica: Wait, is your name Lyndsay?
Beige Man: No, I don't think that's it (Suddenly beige man is trying to place me, though I've never seen him before in my life. Suddenly trying to remember me is a partner job that Jessica can't do alone)
Jessica: Oh! Well, it's been so long since school...
Me: I guess it has. Okay well, I will see you later
I walk with a case of "the inappropriate giggles", which strike at funerals, during the telling of sad stories or (apparently) when I'm getting snubbed by someone who cried when the New Kids broke up. I suppose that I could be annoyed, or insulted or frustrated by Jessica's progression to complete ignorance of who I am, yet I still find it amusing. And honestly, a little amazed that someone would go to such great lengths.
If being the biggest fake is a game she wants to win, I will gladly hand her the crown.
I walk back, pick up the pomegranate juice (I've earned it) and go to pay with one thought in my head-
"Well played Jessica, well played".