if I could do it over again

Brett Freedman called me a few weeks ago after I saw him on the Today Show. He was my closest friend from childhood, and he is now a make-up artist to the stars. Our friendship ended around eighth grade for the usual reasons: I was making up insane lies to get attention due to the fact that my parents were divorcing, my sister was beginning her drug addiction at age 10, and I was the perfect victim for Brett and his new sidekick Carol Bradley- rich girl. When Brett left his first message on my voicemail I had this bizarre fantasy that he called to apologize for all the really uncreative suburban teenage bullying he had committed against me. I imagined that he would tell me that he actually really cared for me- and that to this day he thinks of me as a brilliantly creative and funny person. I told my friend Jay these fantasies- and my sister ...she said "don't count on it", Jay said that maybe it was karma coming back around for me. And I tended to agree with Jay because the all time nausea inducing thing happened that same week that Brett Freedman called me: Richard The Big Fat Famous Writer emailed me. This brought on an onslaught of apology and acknowledgement fantasies in my brain. His email went something like this-" Hi- I know it is a terrible cliche, but I am writing to you out of the blue to not apologize or acknowledge you in any way". He wrote me this email four days after he had a hefty article published in the NY Times magazine that brought up so many feelings that I felt like I fell on a porcupine. The coincidence was so unpleasant- and not in that popular "train wreck" style of unpleasantness, but in that way that makes you need at least 200% more therapy than the 30% covered by your insurance. So it turns out that I was right about Brett Freedman anyway. I am going to call him this weekend cause he is coming to NYC soon for a shoot and wants to have dinner. As for Richard Big Fat Famous Writer in my head- he is that damned stale gum I've been chewing for way to long but just won't spit out because even that dull mint that has now numbed my tongue and flacid rubber that has slackened my jaw is satisfying because it distracts me from my lonliness.