Erin Murphy

Journalism, Fall 2002

Not in Kansas Anymore

≥Cπmon Erin, one sip of alcohol is not going to kill you,≤ one of my guy friends says as he pushes his beer into my face. I gently force the frothy drink aside.

≥No thanks. You know I donπt drink.≤ I say this with a smile, so maybe he doesnπt realize how serious I am about my abstinence. It seems that every party I attend, at least one person there is treating my beliefs as a gag. Thereπs always that one person telling me I would be a wild drunk, so when I turn 21 everyone better watch out for Erin. They only see the face of my position; they donπt see the reasoning behind it. They like to tease me, tricking me into holding a beer can so they can take a picture. I take it in good stride, but sooner or later Iπm no longer able to smile at their comments. Personally, I donπt think itπs funny that my best friend almost died from alcohol poisoning, but I canπt blame them for not knowing.

* * *

I look at the pictures above my desk now of Jessica and me doing silly stuff like dressing up as Glenda and Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Of course, these pictures were taken before spring break of my senior year in high school. I have very few pictures like these after the ≥incident≤ as we both now refer to it. Maybe that name isnπt doing it justice, but I donπt know how else to refer to it. Itπs taboo for us to talk about it to each other because we donπt want to drudge up those painful memories. We donπt want to remember the one week we were uncomfortable around each other. We would rather focus on our fairy tale friendship in the Land of Oz.

I didnπt learn of the ≥incident≤ until about ten hours after it happened. I was finishing up on spirit signs the girls had been working on together the night before. This is the place where Jessica was supposed to be because she was my co-captain for the girlsπ water polo team. When the phone rang, I fully expected the voice on the other end to be Jessicaπs. No, it wasnπt. It was the messenger.

Lauren hosted the team get together the night before, and I shared with her some concerns I had about Jessica. I didnπt know these concerns were the grounds for her call. I thought she wanted to know some details about the water polo tournament that weekend. I rarely ever received a call from someone other than Jessica, so I treated the discomfort in her voice casually.

≥If you ever need to talk about Jessica again, you can talk to me,≤ she reassured me. I blew her off with the notion that she just wanted to suck up to a captain.

≥OK,≤ I said as I rolled my eyes. She could tell the tone of my voice had a hint of exasperation and sarcasm or else she wouldnπt have said this next sentence.

≥You havenπt heard have you?≤

≥Heard what?≤ I still had that small impression of a smile on my face that occurs when the thing a person is hearing doesnπt add up in their brain. Only one more piece of information was needed to wipe the ignorant grin from my face. I sensed that what she had to say next was going to do just that.

≥Jessica went to the hospital last night.≤ I felt my heart jump into my throat as I whipped around to look at my mom standing in the hallway. My heart was beating so fast that I couldnπt breathe or blink. All I could do was stare blankly ahead. Tears began to gather in the corners of my eyes, and I could feel the apprehensive smile slowly curve downwards as my bottom lip quivered. A million questions ran through my head at that moment and I didnπt know which ones to ask first, so I just stood there. Finally it hit me which question I should ask first.

≥Is she OK? What happened?≤ But I couldnπt stop after just those two questions. I began talking faster and louder into the phone. I realized at one point I was yelling questions at her. Donπt blame the messenger, I thought to myself. Donπt blame the messenger. As she told me the story, I couldnπt believe what had happened.

* * *

The night before, I was freaking out when Jessica hadnπt shown up yet. Her mom didnπt know where she was either. She assured me she was on her way though. I briefly vented to Lauren about Jessicaπs attitude towards the team. I didnπt understand how she could neglect her duties as a captain so easily. These girls depended on us to show up and participate in the team unity. We were their leaders, and they looked up to us. A lot of them looked to us for approval, and some of them emulated our beliefs and standards. How could Jessica possibly be thinking of herself right now? This is basically what I related to Lauren in a few cut and dry sentences. I felt a lot better after releasing these thoughts from my head. I sat back down to work on the bandanas we were making for the tournament this weekend. I finished mine already, so I decided to start on Jessicaπs. She could finish it when she got there. But she never got there, so I finished the bandana myself. Hopefully she would like it.

The night ended around ten åo clock, and there was still no sign of Jessica. I didnπt worry too much because she is a very active person and usually finds something fun to do with other people when she gets bored. I figured she forgot and went out with her boyfriend, so I shrugged the whole thing off.

About an hour later sirens were blaring through the streets of the Cimarron South subdivision. The paramedics arrived at their destination where an eighteen year old girl lay unconscious. Her breathing was shallow and the beating of her heart had slowed tremendously. Three teenage boys of about the same age were surrounding the body. Obviously intoxicated, they backed away as the paramedics assessed the situation. Liquor bottles littered the living room floor, including the three fourths empty Jack Daniels bottle which resulted in the girlπs condition. She was rushed to the emergency room where luckily she did not have to have her stomach pumped. The girlπs name was Jessica, and she almost became a statistic.

* * *

I felt like such an outsider. I felt like I had just read about some random girl in the newspaper, but it wasnπt some random girl. It was my best friend. I began to doubt myself as a good friend. Why wasnπt I there? I took it upon myself to get the real story as it happened through her eyes. What really happened? What was going through her head? I needed that information so that I could figure out what was going through mine.

I called her the same night she was released from the hospital. I wanted answers, and I wasnπt going to wait for them. I almost didnπt wait for her to say hello. I had to struggle to get the formality out of the way before I started shooting questions at her. Unlike my conversation with Lauren, I knew exactly what I wanted to ask first.

≥What were you thinking?≤ I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice, but I realized that it was impossible. I heard her choke up on the other end before she answered my question.

≥I donπt knowäI donπt know what I was thinking.≤ That wasnπt a good enough answer for me, so I kept pushing her for a better answer.

≥Did you have no idea of the consequences? Do you know how many people you hurt, including yourself? I donπt understand why you would put yourself in that situation. Those three guys could have taken advantage of the situation. I know you know them, but that doesnπt place it any farther out of their minds.≤ My face heated up, and I could feel the blood rushing through each vein in my body. I gripped the phone tighter and noticed that my knuckles were completely white.

≥They said I couldnπt do it. They said I couldnπt drink as much as them. So I tried to show them that I could. They challenged me to drink the whole Jack Daniels bottle. So I did.≤ My mouth dropped. The air I had been holding for so long puffed out in a humid gust. This was the clearest epitome of peer pressure I have ever witnessed. How could three full grown boys possibly challenge a girl half their size to a drinking contest? It was insane; it was stupid; it was incredibly irresponsible. A tear streamed down my face and I could hear her sobbing on the other end. All I wanted to do at that point was click my heels to make everything the way it was before this happened. My yellow brick road was spiraling out of control and my good witch of the north was nowhere to be found. I let all of my emotions burst out of me. I didnπt care if she didnπt like what I was saying. These things needed to be said. Who else would tell her straight out? Who else was going to let her know that she didnπt have a bubble of security built around her? Her family wasnπt going to confront her and her other ≥friends≤ werenπt her friends at all.

We talked for awhile more and then promised each other that we wouldnπt drink until we were of legal age and even then we would drink responsibly. But above that, we promised each other that we wouldnπt succumb to peer pressure, especially if our own safety or the safety of others was involved.

* * *

Iπve often wondered what path I would have taken if it werenπt for that promise. Would I drink? Would I be as strong or as adamant about my position as I am now? I guess my trip over the rainbow was drastically different from Dorothyπs. She confronted an evil witch, and I confronted a dear friend. We both learned about ourselves from our friends and realized the things that are most important in life. Although Dorothy got to see the beauty of Oz and I saw the darker side, I came to the same conclusion. There is no place like home.

Iπm glad that many people respect my abstinence and say ≥thatπs cool,≤ and Iπm also glad that people with similar experiences can talk to me about what theyπve gone through. Some of those experiences shared with me are more extreme, but I can still give some insight nonetheless. There will always be that one person offering me a beer or a tiny sip of their drink just because they think it would be fun for me to forget my beliefs and my past experiences for that one moment. I thank the stars that it isnπt that easy.

Author Afterword

Considering the events of this story took a huge toll on my relationship with my best friend and my beliefs in general, this was fairly easy to write about. I thought that I was going to struggle putting all of the emotions I experienced into words, but surprisingly, they just poured out of me until I had absolutely nothing left. I guess that happens when life leaves you in the dust.

The reason I wrote about this is because this was the first time in my life when I was scared. I donπt mean ≥scary movie≤ scared or even ≥thereπs a weird guy walking behind me in the parking lot≤ scared. It was the kind of fear you have when youπre drowning and you realize every gulp of air you struggle for could be your last. When I realized that, I realized this was what I wanted to write about.

The Wizard of Oz metaphor served its purpose well. Jessica and I both went through our Oz phase together just as we went through this phase of our friendship together. We both learned that everything in life isnπt as colorful as Munchkinland. We learned the hard way, but at least we finally learned before we were on our own.

Almost losing my best friend forced me to realize that I had to cherish every relationship I have in the present and every relationship I will make in the future. I canπt just stamp a ≥fragile≤ sticker on them and then kick them around a bit to see how long they last. I have to work to keep every single one I have stumbled upon. I say ≥stumbled upon≤ because you donπt point at someone and say, ≥Iπm going to be her friend;≤ they just happen somehow.

This story was my first step toward being a better writer. Everything I put into this story has significance. Every word means something whether it represents an emotion, a reaction, or an image. This article was an evolutionary step towards better writing. It framed the success I would have with my other articles throughout the rest of the semester as I extended into different types of journalism. I could relate to the people I profiled in my second and third article through our individual struggles in life although they were very different in subject matter.

I hope that I can still grow as a writer. When I get writerπs block in the future, I think Iπll go back and read this article to inspire me. Maybe Iπll think, ≥Oh my gosh, I can write so much better than this,≤ which is inspiring in a way. I hope I think, ≥Damn, give me some of that so I can finish this paper.≤