I can’t even go ahead with finding a job somewhere else." I complain bitterly.

"If only my certificate was in business and not in art, you would have been able to use it. We would only have to switch names." She alludes.

"Tell me about it." I puff. Why were you so rebellious? Why didn’t you just study business?"

"Because, I love art, dummy." She references to the canvas in front of her that she is painting on.

"I am screwed." I groan.

"That woman saw past your qualifications. I am sure someone else will too."

"You think so?"

"I believe so. Even if that does not work out, remember you’ve got a crazy friend who would do anything for you. I honestly would not mind playing the prodigal daughter and going back to my parents to get you a big-ass job. All I have to do is say the word and it will materialize like genie power."

"No. You would not need to go to your parents because of me. It must be that you really want to." I say. I don’t know much about Annie’s family. All I know is that they are wealthy and into corporate business. And that Annie does not have a great relationship with them. From my point, it does not seem like they care about her. My mom and stepdad call me whenever they can. In Annie’s case, nothing. I sometimes think of her as an orphan.

"I won’t see them for anything except if it’s for you."

If Annie had been born as the opposite gender, she would have been my lover and soulmate. The feeling that there is someone who cares enough about you and silently fixes things for you that you are not aware of. She and I met at a bar where I worked part-time. I am awkward, and I am not the type that easily makes friends. People who wants to be friends with me put in the effort. I honestly don’t know why they do. I am a boring person. I prefer to have my nose buried in books in my free time than chat. Annie Roxy. I don’t even know how we became close. Her always on fire demeanor did not go well with my boring one. But we made it work somehow. She did until I decided to start giving her the same energy as well. The day I realized that I had indeed gained a friend came when my wages at the bar was suddenly increased. Our boss said business was coming in great, so he added a raise to the wages. I was glad beyond words. Suspicions started growing seed in my mind when I found out that the other girls were still being paid the usual without a raise. It was Annie’s handwork after witnessing my financial instability. When I stubbornly wanted her to have it back, she said to me. "I don’t need the money. I am just working for fun. But you are because you have to. That is my little way of helping ya. You either take it, or flush it down the toilet, I don’t care."

The loud, shiny, sexy and headstrong Annie Roxy will forever be one of the few best things that happened to me.

She ccontinues dabbling and sliding the paintbrush on the white canvas. She is a mess with color paints all over her and her apron. Annie was strong enough to choose what she wanted despite the strong opposition from her parents. They wanted her to study business but she stubbornly chose art. I don’t think that is the only reason she cut ties with them. I have tried to find out but she didn’t want to tell. And I respected it just as she respected mine and does not pressure me into talking about things I don’t want to. Everyone’s got secrets. And it is extremely rude to try and pry into it.

"There. All done." Annie said with finality. I put down the book I was reading to look at Annie’s painting. I move closer to see it. "Don’t touch it. It’s still sticky." She cautions. "What is this painting?" I ask.

She furrows her new, neatly trimmed brow. "Can’t you see? It is of someone—a girl."

"Of course I know it is a girl. But what is the flowers around her? What do they mean?" Annie has the most beautiful and complex meaning behind her paintings. I am able to get a tiny clue to what some of them means sometimes, but this one. . . . .I simply cannot tell. A girl who seems to be a teenager is sitting cross legged. She is painted in abstract monochromatic colors. She is facing down. A face not part of the painting. But even without a face to determine facial expressions, I can feel and tell that she is sad and dejected. It is in the way she is positioned. The way her shoulders are low. Then there is the flowers enveloping all around her. Different types of flowers; lotus, rose and hyacinth blue in their actual distinctive colors with many black flowers mixing them.

"I listened to a podcast last night while I was trying to sleep. . ." She began. My ears picks up. "A girl was narrating this. . . story of her life, and what made her runaway from home.

She said there was this boy—a neighbor of hers whom she had a crush on. She was extremely shy about it, but eventually walked up to him and asked him out. They started the relationship—secretly. It wasn’t really a relationship per say, they were just fooling around. He was a bit older, and knew what he wanted and took it. She was a naive girl who went along with whatever he wanted. She had never been happier until then. Along the line, her mother found out and warned her to stay away from the guy. That he didn’t belong to her. The guy in question said he was tired of her, and asked to break up. He just dumped it on her. He did not even give her time to process it. He just disappeared from my life—

"Your life??" I query, pointing out the mistake.

There was a nameless shift in her expression. "Her life. I mean her life! It was a mistake." She said defensively.

"Okay, okay go on." I urge.

"The time she saw him again, he was—" Doorbell rang. We both turn our heads to the room door and glance at each other questionably before we remember that we had ordered boneless chicken from our favorite chicken restaurant.

"That must be the chicken delivery. I was getting so hungry!" She exclaims. I roll my eyes. "Why did they have to arrive now and interrupt?" I was really getting into the story.

"If it is a handsome guy, you know what to do. Stall him as much as you can. I will go fix myself and join you." She winks.

"Girl, you are always unbelievable." I grin. I almost forgot that someone kisses handsome delivery guys as one of her hobbies. I went to go collect the order. The guy at the door is wearing a crisp white suit and a tailored suit instead of a casual outfit with the restaurant jacket. "Do delivery guys dress like this now?" I ask.