Strap in, guys, gals, and enby pals. We’re in for an emotional roller coaster with this one.
I think every thirteen-year-old girl has a chosen name. Think back to when you were thirteen and you wanted to be called, I don’t know, Renesmee or something. It was definitely inspired by something cringy like that. Me? I tried to get everyone to call me Sophitia, like the badass Greek sword-wielding action mom from the Soul Calibur series.
No one called me Sophitia, of course, save for my dad (until my mom made him stop). Well, him and Chelsea. Or, shall I say, Helena.
Her cringy thirteen-year-old chosen name was Helena, like the My Chemical Romance song. She insisted it was pronounced “huh-lay-nah,” not “hel-en-uh.” True to the girl in the music video of the emo standard, she had pale skin and a tall but slight frame and dark hair and piercing blue eyes, all of which she took pride in. She was gorgeous and she knew, but you couldn’t help but love her nonetheless.
I don’t remember exactly how Chelsea and I met, but I remember her as an absolute spitfire who hurled herself into my life with the intensity of a tigress. She was spirited, witty, and strong-willed, the kind of girl who stood up for me in the face of notoriously cruel grade school bullies. For a solid two years, we were practically inseparable. Those years were filled with memories I’ll never forget. Like Thursday nights at my church’s youth group, getting all giddy over which cute guy talked to us. Or staying up late during sleepovers on my bedroom floor, telling each other stories until we fell asleep. Or editing our MySpaces together on my family’s computer, and the one time I got interrogated because my mom found “emo boys kissing” in my search history. Thanks for that, Chels.
Music was an integral part of our friendship. One of our favorite activities was dressing up like our favorite rock stars and putting on shows for ourselves. Being obsessed with Bon Jovi, I had us dress up like Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora. She was Richie because her hair was darker, even though I always liked him more. She’s the one who introduced me to the emo genre that defined my taste in music as I grew older. She loved this song called “Fer Sure” by The Medic Droid, and in the car she’d always sing “Kick off your stilettos and THROW THEM IN THE BACKSEAT” loud enough to obscure the fact that the actual lyrics were “fuck me in the backseat.” And of course, there was Helena and Sophitia, our cringy chosen names that doubled as our stage names. We would have these big dreams about someday starting a band together, and she wrote a little song with a melody that still gets stuck in my head to this day.
Something changed after a trip up north together, though. I asked if she had the sunscreen we bought while there and she accused me of accusing her of stealing it. What transpired was a platonic breakup worse than any of my romantic breakups have been. It’s such a stupid thing to ruin what was one of the most important friendships of my life. A girl’s BFF-ship at that transitional age of late preteendom is so important, and just like that, I lost her.
What followed was radio silence for years. I watched her grow up from afar. She joined the military, married, and had a son. Me, I went to college and had a couple of rock bands that didn’t work out. But as adults, she reached out to me and extended the olive branch, and we reconnected over our shared spiritual goals and, of course, music.
We were never as close as we were as kids, though, because shortly after we reconnected, a little global health crisis called COVID-19 happened, and all our plans to meet up fell through.
She then had a private health crisis of her own. On the warmest Christmas morning in memory, I got a text from one of our old mutual friends.
“Hey Jess, I’m so sorry to hear about Chelsea.”
I couldn’t even cry. I was numb. All these memories came flooding back like a tidal wave. I ran to my guitar and immediately started strumming the old song she wrote, and suddenly, I knew what I had to do. That day, I turned her melody into a full song she’d be proud of.
My only regret is she’ll never get to hear it.
Life is so short, and we take moments with our loved ones for granted. The next time you hang out with your best friend could be your last, and you wouldn’t even know. So cherish every memory you get, because in the end, that’s all we can carry with us through life, and those memories are what carry us through life.
So long and goodnight, my dearest friend. I’m a better person for having known you.
JESSA JOYCE 