No, this post is not about the Maroon 5 album.
I was digging through my photo albums last night and I came across something I simply must share. Allow me to introduce you to a dear, old, departed friend.
Her name was Jane. She had perfect bone structure, impeccably smooth skin, and legs for days. We became friends the summer I graduated high school, when I worked for three months at Peebles in Wallace, NC to earn just enough cash for books come August. She had retired from her glamourous days under the spotlight in the store windows long before I arrived; but to me, she was still the most fabulous thing I had ever seen. She would sit on top of the file cabinet in the manager's office for weeks on end, holding that perfect slouched pose that super models work their entire careers perfecting. As amazing as she was, I could always see a hint of sadness in her eyes. Sometimes I would hear her whisper, "Is this what I've become? A dusty, naked paper weight on top of a file cabinet in the back room of a department store in rural North Carolina?" We shared the same sadness, and the same dreams.
My last day of work, my manager and wonderful friend said, in the calmest voice, "Why don't you take Jane with you?" I can't exactly remember my reaction. I probably made a noise so high pitched it could only be heard by dogs within a six mile radius. But I do remember thinking, "I'm going to have the classiest dorm room ever in existence."
Of course, as it turns out, my dorm room was half the size of the back seat of my 1989 Oldsmobile, and there was no way both of our shoe collections would fit in my tiny wardrobe. She was forced to spend the end of summer, all of fall, and a winter's snowfall in the front seat of my car. Riding around was quite entertaining. We would sing at the top of our lungs to Kelis, and she would give me a heartbreaking silent treatment when she was mad.
At the beginning of the next semester, I finally moved into my first apartment with one of my best friends, and Jane finally found a home on top of my dresser. How was that a better fate than on top of a file cabinet or in the trunk of my car? Well, she could finally show off her style without collecting dust or melting in hot weather. Plus she could wear different outfits for all of our themed parties (which never really happened), and she didn't mind holding all of my sunglasses and hats when I wasn't using them.
Where is Jane now? Well, the sad truth is that we had a bit of a falling out. As in down the stairs. (See that crack on her knee? Don't stare, she's sensitive about it.) After moving two more times, she was just having trouble fitting into our new surroundings. She started sniffing a bit too much acrylic paint, which she normally used to touch up her blemishes or scratches. One night she just went too far, and in a fit threw herself down the metal staircase outside my building. She ran off into the night, wounded, and I found her the next day face-down in a dumpster by the street. I had done all I could for her, so I walked away. She wasn't there a few hours later, and some friends of mine said they saw her sitting, peacefully, on a frat house roof.
Wherever you are, Jane, I hope you're well, and I wish you all the happiness and shoes in the world.