Caitlin and Brianna had been those two best friends since, like, second grade. You know which ones I’m talking about; they told everyone they were “sisters”, they got their periods on the same day, they planned a Friday night during April of junior year to lose their virginities at the same time.
Caitlin and Brianna, Brianna and Caitlin, peanut butter and jelly, kale and self-doubt, bad sex and calling your ex-boyfriend. Caitlin and Brianna.
Not many people know this, but senior prom was a bit bumpy. First, it started when Caitlin wanted to wear a dress that was almost identical to Brianna’s.
“But…I found this on sale at Nordstrom’s! My mom gave me her credit card! I had to fake her signature!”
“This is ridiculous. You KNOW I’ve had this dress picked out for fucking months, Caitlin. Besides. You’re a Scorpio and this will NEVER match your aura. Return it.”
Peanut butter and jelly, prom dresses and period stains, Caitlin and Brianna.
She returned the dress, went to the dance with Brianna’s boyfriend’s best friend who was funny but had an under-bite and a weird stamp collection, and she kept her little mouth shut.
Ten years later: bees and knees, hangovers and self-loathing, Caitlin and Brianna.
They had both been graduated for about five years with liberal arts degrees and lived in the same town in suburban Illinois with their new, extremely Caucasian husbands.
A day after Caitlin missed her period in February, she got a call from Brianna.
“Guess who missed the rowboat down the red river this month!!!” she screamed in almost ecstasy.
Mother fucking shit mother fuck are you fucking serious right now you fucking fucker.
“Oh my Godddddd, me toooooooo!!!!!”
The next nine months passed in a blur of barfing, going to pregnant yoga, and accidentally farting in the grocery store.
In November, Caitlin and Brianna were at a Whole Foods looking at vegetables they could mush up in a blender and feed their new babies that were supposed to arrive soon.
“Oh, no, Caitlin. You canNOT feed a bundle of joy green beans. It’s bad for the liver. You need to get sweet potatoes.” She grabbed one from a cutesy lil crate. “Here’s a PERFECT one…OH.” She dropped the potato and grabbed her nine-month-marinated stomach. “Oh my God! Can you believe it?” Her purple Lulu Lemon Leggings darkened with pre-baby juices. “I knew I was going to have my baby first!” She laughed.
“Oh, my God!” Whispered Caitlin.
“How was she really going to have her dumbass baby first?” She thought, while gripping a sweet potato. “Is she going to swaddle it in the ghost of my dead fucking prom dress? Oh hell no. Brianna can eat my cottage cheese ass before this nonsense happens. And why is she so goddamn calm? I swear to fucking GOD.”
Brianna began to have contractions, of course, in the middle of the fucking Whole Foods. Caitlin gave her a sweet potato to squeeze and started holding her breath.
“I would rather give Satan a BJ than have this bitch hold this over me,” she thought, clenching her butt cheeks.
Caitlin started to squat while making direct eye contact with Brianna.
“NOT ON MY WATCH.” She yelled, almost shaking the plastic containers of fair-trade tree nuts hanging on the walls.
Instantly, her water broke and her baby came sliding out of her yoga sarong into a Whole Foods basket of loaves of bread.
“YOU WILL NOT TAKE THIS DAY AWAY FROM ME.” Caitlin said, still gripping a sweet potato, her newborn child perfectly healthy, laying on a bit of sourdough. Immediately, Brianna stopped having contractions, stood up, and laughed nervously. She had lost this time.
Caitlin and Brianna, peanut butter and jelly, sourdough and speed births, Caitlin and Brianna.