My best friend would have been my boyfriend but he was mostly gay and had complicated feelings for me, as a woman. Our relationship was a series of extremes but I loved him and lived for the day he wouldn’t punish me with the silent treatment after an especially great time (that was his pattern.) He was from Massachusetts and a huge Patriots fan. He came over the Saturday night after the Patriots made the Superbowl. I was thrilled to wake up and find his phone was beside me in bed. That meant he was still there. I had had my doubts bc he was coming off of a bout of the silent treatment towards me during the week. I felt purely happy when I got out of bed to join him in the kitchen. It was in the kitchen that I found his dead body. The autopsy took 4 months to deliver final results bc toxicology and other tests take place thousands of miles away. During the waiting period the people who comforted me were telling others I had killed him. They spoke of our volatile relationship, going so far as to contact police and medical examiner. Why? Bc they had sold him drugs and if those drugs had killed him they could’ve gotten in trouble. The results of the autopsy was death by accident due to mixed drug intoxication. No large amount of something like an overdose but with 7 drugs in his system, no way to know which drug or what combo had been fatal. Also, the artery that is most important for supplying the heart was 75 percent blocked. I did not kill him, no one did, but my “friends* set me up in case a scapegoat was needed. I have been alone since 2017. My friend never got to see the Patriots win that Superbowl.
I never held their whiteness against them
But I also found out that my race was always on their minds and always had been. Of course when you first meet someone you notice their looks but when you get to know them you think of them by name. Not–the tall guy, for example. When it came to me, the person who had introduced me to my best friend referred to me as “that black girl.” She had known me for ten years. When my friend died she became concerned that his family would review his finances and find checks written out to her in handwriting that was not his, and the checks were signed in this unknown person’s handwriting. For her purpose of distracting the family from her fraud she told them the black hooker killed him and had robbed him too. At that time she was out on bail awaiting sentencing for the robbery charge she picked up when she bit the security guard at Macy’s in Windward Mall. She was looking at 10 years. And if the sentencing judge had heard she picked up a new financial fraud felony…a happy ending for her would be unlikely.
Last of all, I felt betrayed by the administration. God let me feel love and snatched it away. So I really know what I am missing.
It is hard to pray with the belief that Someone with my best interests at heart is hearing and rearranging things to benefit me. You can understand my scepticism can’t you?