Angela
Hoebag is my best friend.
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Hoebag is Angela. Angela used to drive a Nissan Armada, and she sat on a cushion, supposedly for her slipped spinal disk, but I am under the impression it helped her see over the steering wheel. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, Angelica was very petite but has since softened around her curves, which she hates, but I think it makes her look more alive. She used to have long hair that brushed her waist, but in more recent years keeps it down to the middle of her back. Her hair has always shone like the Moroccan oil she christens it in, straight as a pin, a deep chestnut hue with hints of dark cherry red. I often gaze into her deep blue eyes, although in the face of my partner. Her skin is tanned, either from her latest sunny vacation or the bed she frequents in our small-town salon. She always has her toenails and fingernails done ombre so you can’t tell when they grow out. She is decorated in green and blue ink, each design telling a piece of her life’s puzzle. Angela always knows what to say and always has my back. She wears black eyeliner every. Single. Day. She loves fine jewelry and was even generous enough to aid in decorating my left-hand ring finger. We have matching gold chains permanently soldered to wrap around our ankles. Angie walks pigeon-toed and laughs loudly and we flip each other off every time we see each other. She hasn’t touched a bottle in over ten years. She seldom fails to text me good morning and good night, always before I go to bed, and before I wake up. She loves the serenity prayer but sleeps in on Sunday mornings. She leaves a trail of broken hearts behind her, and perhaps, became a mother too young. Her mother died, too young. Angie always makes sure to get what was ordered at McDonald’s, and she orders her fries with no salt to guarantee they will be hot. We love to get Dairy Queen together after dinner and go for drives to look at cows we do not know. I miss her face and she misses mine. Most people hate their mother-in-law, but I couldn’t live without mine.
