By Merran Jones
Dee’s always doing stupid stuff. Like the time she left her credit card in the machine at the checkout and the shop assistant had to chase her down the street.
Or the time she forgot to put the handbrake on the car and it rolled halfway across the carpark into a parked ute.
Then there was the time we were all drinking coffee together and talking about the origin of time, and she genuinely thought the world was only, like, 2000 years old. We all had a laugh about that.
And the time she made us all curry, but substituted coconut cream with vanilla yogurt and it tasted foul. “That’s our Dee!” we said.
Then there was the time she made Jules a birthday cake, and she didn’t whisk one of the eggs in properly, and it came out whole and baked in the centre of the cake. Gross.
And when we all drink wine and play Scrabble, she’s stuck on three letter words like “SEA” and “HAM,” and blaming it on the Merlot. That’s our Dee.
So many memories. So much fun together.
Back when we were teenagers, a seagull shat on her head first day of highschool. That was the first time I met her. I felt bad until I realised: “Hey, that’s just Dee.”
When we were fifteen, Dee and Sarah and Beth and me would go clothes shopping. Sarah and Beth always looked fantastic in their leggings and crop tops, and Dee would be like, “No, I’m not coming out. I look fat.” And we’d all plead with her, saying it’d be fine, and then she’d open the curtains and it’d be, like, two sizes too small and the fitting girl would come over and ask if she needed help. After, we’d laugh it all off and get strawberry milkshakes. Dee always finished ours for us.
It’s good to have a friend like Dee.
Then, of course, there was the time, like, ten minutes ago, when she thought she was pregnant and was telling us at the pub, leaning over her lemon, lime, and bitters. All hushed tones and furrowed brow. Talking about her tender boobs and how she couldn’t afford a pram.
Then she told us how it happened and we were like, “Seriously, Dee. Don’t you know anything about anatomy? You can’t get pregnant if he goes in the back door.”
Then we all laughed and clinked glasses, and she went to the bathroom, and I went in soon after to pee, and she was standing at the sink staring at her reflection, and she wasn’t laughing. And then I realised she never did.