The Incomparable Kellyn Fritz

My friend Kellyn has informed me that she is blogging about me today. I have been meaning to blog about her since she listed it as a NaBloPoMo post recommendation, and I figured that now was a perfect time.

Kellyn was the first person that I met when I transferred to a new school after sophomore year. It was the Arts High School—a school JUST for juniors and seniors who were interested in the arts but could also receive an excellent education…an amazing, accepting, intellectually and creatively stimulating place that was my absolute dream come true. I was a tiny, underfed, traumatized little creature after being emotionally pulverized by the private school I had attended, and I saw this new school as my Emerald City. I expected an experience that was nothing short of miraculous. And, well, I wasn’t disappointed.

That first day, though, I was nervous and wide-eyed, looking around and wondering if my attire was edgy enough, if my pink shoes would be as attractive here as they had been repulsive at my old school. But then I met Kellyn and instantly relaxed.

She was wearing jeans in a sea of polyester and wool and hemp and some brittle looking material that people had stitched themselves. She introduced herself to me, commented on the Ridiculously Long Line, and by the time we reached the desk to fill out one form and drop off another, we had become friends.

We spent the next two years chain smoking, drinking coffee at Denny’s, driving aimlessly in my Jetta and listening to mix tapes (ah, mix tapes….). We both had our demons to fight in those years, and we padded the walls of that Jetta with war stories and cigarette burns. And yes, she was a tremendous smart ass. Still is. But she was the one friend with whom I knew I could be completely candid, completely uncensored, completely, well, teenaged. We both sighed during sappy love songs and laughed at the people who thought they were just….so…..impossibly cool.

There are just SO many memories of Kellyn. Kelly as my prom date. Kellyn writing “I heart Brooke” on the trunk of my car in dust. Kellyn excusing herself from class in the dance studio when she saw me BAWLING outside of it near the end of our senior year. But, for some reason, this one stands out:

In one of our classes senior year*, we had to do a role play where we presented three different U.S. foreign policy proposals, and a panel chose the most convincing argument. Kellyn was on the panel, and I’m not gonna lie: it was spring of my senior year, I was getting an A in the class, I had already been accepted to college, and after being a SHAMELESS teacher’s pet all year (um, life??) long, I started my Senior Slide. This presentation didn’t count for much, plus, well, I had a friend on the panel. So I spent maaaaybe ten minutes on it. Or at least I attempted to work on it during the commercial breaks while watching Dawson’s Creek.

Our presentations lasted for two brutally boring days, at the end of which the panel made its decision—a decision that was, I might add, backed with some rather eloquent reasoning. Clearly I did not have the most convincing argument (and, in my defense, I DID have two partners, but they were pretty much baked and useless by 9:00 a.m., leaving me to do the (non)work all by my lonesome). After class, I jokingly (but, um, only SLIGHTLY so) went up to Kellyn and asked why she didn’t, y’know, have my back. She gave me the YOU ARE INSANE look that I have seen oh-so-many times, and just had the following response:

“Dude. You just completely talked out of your ass.” I tried to deny this, but she went on: “No, seriously. I gotta hand it to you. Those are some serious ass-talking skills. That ass is gonna GET YOU PLACES. So, yeah. While I might help you out with my employee discount at Ruby Tuesday’s, really, your presentation actually just sucked.”

Now, two things happened that day: 1.) I learned to appreciate my ass-talking skills, and cultivate them for future use, and 2.) I learned that, no matter what, Kellyn is going to give it to me straight. This is not to say that she will give it to me with loads of judgment and unsolicited opinions. Quite the opposite. But she will always, ALWAYS, speak the truth.

When I returned to the U.S. for winter break this past year, we sat down and caught up after finally getting back in touch after nearly a DECADE. And now she’s a loving wife and incredible mother, and her “giving it to me straight” has a deep and warm wisdom to it. I call her my “guru,” and I mean it. If there’s anyone in the world who knows about love and partnership and sacrifice and communication and staying present and being grateful and cultivating your own humanity and the humanity of others, it’s her.

In a lot of ways she’s a more solid and significant part of my life than she was in high school, which is almost hard to believe because her face is in most of my major high school memories. But we’ve somehow managed to carve a friendship across two continents, and I think it’s because, while we appreciate our past, our connection is built on what is happening in our lives NOW, and what will be happening in the future.

But still….I’ll never forget crying to her over boys, or lighting my cigarette off of hers with shaky hands from too much cheap coffee, and watching the smoke weave its way through her thick head of curls.

*DUDE, KELLYN!! What was the NAME of that class??? It was Joao’s class! I totally loved that class, but I can’t remember the frickin’ name of it!!!