here's that story I was telling y'all about... wow it's gonna take up a lot of blog space. Good thing there's no limit.

“Actually, I’d rather not go to the show tonight,” Erica muttered, looking at the floor. “I think I’ll stay home tonight. See you tomorrow.” She ducked back into the shadows of her apartment and closed the door, leaving me standing alone in the hall.
I stared blankly at the numbers on Erica’s door as the idea sank in: She doesn’t want to go to the show? Walking to the elevator, I reached up into my purse and pulled out the pair of Jimmy Eat World concert tickets I had bought the previous month. Erica had seemed so excited then, when I had told her I had tickets to the show. I vividly remembered her dropping an armful of books on the floor in the midst of it – her giggling, hysterical, “Oh-my-gosh-Brynne-this-is-gonna-ROCK” ecstasy.
Well, I thought as the elevator closed, the band will be rocking in a few hours, and apparently Erica isn’t going to be there for it. I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes, but I decided I didn’t care enough to cry about this. She doesn’t want to go? Fine. I’ll call Joey, I thought as I pulled out my cell phone. At least he cares about me.
Twenty minutes later, Joey and I were climbing into my red Miata, heading for the concert in Portland. I turned the bass way up, joking about how the noise would prepare our ears for the decibel level. Joey smiled and said something that I couldn’t really hear. The music flooded my head and I hoped it would carry away the feelings of anger and resentment I was beginning to feel towards Erica. But seriously, who did she think she was, anyway? Just ditching me like that without so much as an explanation. Four weeks’ worth of planning, and for what? Nothing. You’d think that your best friend of 10 years would do more to maintain the relationship. What a terrible person…
The car went silent. Joey’s hand was on the stereo power button.
“Hey, now, what was that for?” I asked lightly, brushing his hand away from the stereo. “There’s no reason to –”
Joey grasped my hand. “There’s every reason,” he stated. “Something’s wrong.” A pause. Then, “Your knuckles are white.”
Observant boy. “Here, let’s listen to something else. I’ve got Pink’s latest in the backseat. Or how about some Chili Peppers?” My cheery tone belied my irritation.
But Joey was persistent. Massaging my hand every so slightly, he waited a minute before asking me, “Is this about Erica?”
“Sort of,” I replied hesitantly. I could have said no, perhaps, and avoided the topic altogether. But Joey had always been sympathetic to my pain; he would understand. “It’s just that, you know, she was supposed to see the show with me tonight, and at the last minute she cancelled.” I ventured further. “She has been such a brat lately. It’s incredible. We used to be so close, but these last few weeks she’s been impossible. Always in her apartment. Never calling. What is her deal, anyway?” I looked over at Joey, expecting support, for him to say Yes, Brynne, you definitely shouldn’t have to put up with this.
Joey’s sad eyes gazed back at me with such painful intensity that I almost swerved in shock. “What?” I asked incredulously. “It’s true.”
“Pull over.” The urgent tone in Joey’s voice struck a chord. I took the next exit and slowed to a stop on the shoulder. “Joey, I –”
Almost inaudibly, Joey whispered, “She’s dying.”
I froze.
“She was diagnosed two weeks ago leukemia.” He paused, running his hand over his face. “The doctors said they could have done something about it three years ago, but now it’s so widespread –”
“Stop it!” I screamed, flinging my arms at his chest. “Erica doesn’t have cancer! She would have told me –”
“She couldn’t tell you!” he shouted as I continued to thrash. He wrapped his arms around my tense torso, holding my arms down. “She couldn’t bring herself to do it. It hurt her not to, but she knew how much it would hurt you.” And then, softer, “Honey, come here. Calm down.”
But I couldn’t hear him anymore. My body had collapsed against his and he sat there, rocking me gently back and forth, holding my head against his chest as I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

I was back at Erica’s door, almost two hours after leaving her hall with my stupid feelings of resentment. I hated myself for being so petty and ignorant. How to tell all this to Erica, I didn’t know. All I could do when she opened the door was stare at her beautiful eyes and skinny arms. Eyes that seemed to be growing in her pale, shrinking face. Arms filled with the burden of a heavy secret. Eyes that noticed my tear-stained cheeks and slumped shoulders, and arms that engulfed me even before I could choke out the words: “I’m so sorry.” Eyes that closed tight to forever shut out our shallow grievances, and arms to hold on to me, hold on to the moment, and hold on to life for as long as it would let her.