I’ve suspected that Tammy and Melissa’s marriage was on the rocks for awhile. I am a careful (read: obsessive) reader of Tammy’s blog, and there have been subtle hints and vague references. There was one post that was neither subtle nor vague but it was soon removed. Its removal gave me hope, actually. I figured whatever was going on had been resolved, and everything was good again in the Etheridge family. It matters to me that everything be OK because Tammy’s happiness is important to me. She is, after all, my fake best friend.
Well, it turns out that everything is not all right. My suspicions have been confirmed. Tammy and Melissa have split up. There’s even an official statement asking for privacy and all that. I’ll give them their privacy. I don’t need or want to know what happened, and I firmly believe that only the people in a relationship can understand what goes on in it anyway.
But what does one do when one’s fake BFF encounters major emotional turmoil? I never know what to say to people I actually know so even if I did know Tammy, I likely wouldn’t know what to say to her.
You see, I’m no good in a crisis, not an emotional one like this. If you need me to run errands, pick stuff up, clean, or do something like that, I’m adequate in a crisis. But while I am more than willing to be a shoulder to cry on, I’m not very good at it. Usually I just get mad. Who did this? Just give me a name! I’m not afraid to cut a bitch! JUST TELL ME WHO TO CUT.
But I don’t know what happened with Melissa and Tammy. I don’t know if Melissa deserves to be on the business end of my metaphorical switchblade. Probably, she doesn’t. Probably, it was just one of those things. They drifted apart. They grew apart. Apart, apart, apart.
On top of my innate ineptitude, I would be bad in this particular crisis because I’m just so damn disappointed. I liked them together so much. Melissa’s music has always been intensely, almost uncomfortably, personal, and I like to think that The Awakening‘s calm, content, and self-assured vibe (distinctly lacking that thread of desperation that weaves through her previous albums, not that there’s anything wrong with that) has something to do with how well it was working with Tammy. Maybe it was working then and now it isn’t.
I guess it’s time to just cut to the chase. My long-held dream of having dinner at Tammy and Melissa’s house is dead. This is how it was going to go: Andy and I were going to show up a little late because we got lost (we don’t live in the neighborhood, you know), but they wouldn’t care because they’re very chill. We would eat dinner with them in what I imagine is one of those open and airy California dining rooms, then play outside with their kids, and then sit around the living room drinking whiskey and talking about politics once the kids had gone to bed. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Well, it’s dead.