The Best Friend's Guide to Surviving Matrimony (and All That Other Happy Shit)

These stories always start with a phone call.

It's the shitty, inconvenient, day-ruining kind of phone call that nobody likes. It always comes at the worst possible time of day, either in the middle of the night or at work or during some really important meeting; it's usually totally impersonal. It's unexpected. It's awkward. There's almost always some sort of suppressed emotion. Sometimes, there's fake pleasantries. Sometimes, there's envy.

No one ever expects the call, nor do some look forward to it. It's a sign of growing up, of official departure – two things that each and every adult resents. If anything, the call is a thing to dread, and the fact that the person on the other end would rather tell you via telephone wire rather than let you know face-to-face only adds insult to injury.

But my story doesn't start with a phone call. I wasn't doing anything too imperative, nor was I bitter about the occasion. On the contrary, when the chime of my doorbell drifted through the house that afternoon, I was thankful for the excuse to dig myself out of my pyramid of textbooks and note cards and get some fresh air.

The only thing I was resentful about? My attire. I hadn't had any plans for the afternoon, so I opted to dress for a comfortable day of studying, but part of me now wished I hadn't.

“Please don't be my landlord,” I prayed beneath my breath, yanking at the hems of my too-short cut-offs as I trotted down the shadowed hall. The heavy front door was peeled back, allowing the golden early-evening warmth to spill across the floor. The heat of the light crawling up my legs as I neared the door sent a jolt through my breast, and while I was unsure who awaited me on the porch, the anticipation set off an excited murmur in my chest.

Swinging open the screen door, I leaned out and looked across the porch. What stood looking back at me from the front walk was a familiar long-haired figure, hip cocked and blue eyes smiling at me in their standard mischievous way. The tremor in my chest erupted into sudden, violent joy as soon as I spotted him.

“Trav!” My clothing now completely off my mind, I flew off the porch at him, arms wide. “It's good to see you!”

A happy grunt escaped his chest as I slammed into him, his arms wrapping around me and keeping us from toppling to the ground. I could feel his beam. “Damn right it is! How've ya been, kiddo?”

“I've been fabulous. Yourself?”

“Happy as a fucking deep sea clam.”

I felt his arms tighten more. Laughing, I croaked, “Put me down! You're suffocating me!” He returned me to my feet and I stumbled backward, lightheaded and smiling stupidly. “I wasn't expecting to find such a cute boy on my porch. What took ya so long, mister?”

“Busy,” he said with a cutesy chuckle. “Not to mention the fact that somebody won't stop changing their address!”

I rolled my eye in good spirit, unable to stop smiling. “I've been renting this place for eight months now, Travis.”

“And I've been touring the past twelve. Could've at least let me know, jerk.”

“Oh, and are you gonna start letting me know every place you take residence? I’d be following you all over the planet!”

Again, he chuckled, looking down at me dotingly. It was then that I truly gave him a once-over, realizing that I hadn't seen him for nearly five months. Despite the time and distance between us since then, what I saw wasn't at all surprising. He'd remained the same as my memory had remembered him: stunningly tall, handsome but effeminate, and cloaked with an impressive veil of blond waves that had me green with envy. He wore the same black-and-white paisley bandana, the same khaki flip-flops; the only possible difference my mind could recall was the lighting: last time I’d seen him was beneath the sheen of Christmas lights, his pallor complexion almost appearing an eerie fuchsia as he stood next to the tree. Now, he was dyed a milky orange, the late-afternoon sunlight beaming at his back and making his blue eyes seem miles deep.

“Good point,” he said, bringing me from my reverie. His toothy smile seemed too white. “You win.”

“As usual.” I winked. “So, what's the occasion? Wanna come in?”

“Wish I could,” he said. “Unfortunately, I've got business to attend to that I've been avoiding for the past two weeks I've been back. I just came here to deliver the news.”

My brows rose. “News?” Judging by his expression, however, I didn't have much to worry about.

“Yep.” He cocked an amused smirk, as if the thought of it made him want to laugh right out loud. “Ole Satchel's finally decided to settle down.”

It took me a moment to connect the name to the memory – it wasn't often that I found myself calling him 'Satchel'. When I realized just who it was that he was speaking about, I was shocked and delighted at the same time. “Oh my God, you mean Russ? With who?”

He was still smiling waggishly. “Vivian, of course.”

“Oh my goodness!” My hands flew to my mouth. I wasn't upset, but the news certainly came as a shock. Still, I found myself grinning like a retard. “This is fantastic! Holy shit! How the hell did that happen?”

Travis shrugged, as if the situation was just as baffling to him as it was me. “He was bored on tour. He missed her. When we got back, he just figured it was time. He wants to spend the rest of his life with her.”

I stared at him for a moment, soaking in all the words like it were some sort of fairytale. I then shook my head, closing my eyes and chuckling quietly. “Wow...I never thought I’d be hearing those words. Especially not about Russ!”

He laughed. “Tell me about it. He's finally growing up.”

“That's for sure.”

I laughed again. Thinking of Russ as being anything but juvenile seemed comical. We'd known each other for years, and although he was five years my senior, I’d always far surpassed his maturity level. When I was in high school, he wasn't the kind of friend that drove me home from class in the afternoon and was close to my mother – he was the friend that would come pick me up on his lunch hour to sneak me into the bars while I was supposed to be in History class.

Thinking this, I shook my head yet again. “Hell, I'm gonna have to stop calling him 'Russ', won't I?”

“If you want anyone at the wedding to realize who you're talking about. And I'm also officially Lexxi now, so no more of this 'Travis' shit.”

I blinked. “Jeez...I forgot all about that. Wow.”

He looked hurt. “You forgot that your closest friend happened to play in the sexiest rock band on the planet? After everything we've been through in the past ten years?”

“I'm getting old, alright?”

Bursting into laughter, he cried, “That makes me a dinosaur!”

We chatted and joked about the wedding for a few minutes more, our shadows getting taller and taller across the grass as the sun continued to set. It felt like we'd been out there for hours as opposed to just minutes when I thought to ask, “Is there anyone else at this thing that I'm going to know, or will I have to make friends with the bartender?”

“You may still have to make friends with the bartender,” he said with a laugh. “But the Family will be there, of course, Stix and Michael and me. Evie too. Oh, right, and Carrie will be there.”

At the mention of Carrie, my eyes suddenly went wide. Oh no...Carrie.