If Only I Were You

Everyone suddenly burst out singing, and I was filled with such delight, as was everyone lining Main Street the night Vivian came home.  Viv, as her friends called her, was our hometown celebrity.  The day she turned sixteen, New York City and Broadway swept her away.  She occasionally made it home for a holiday, usually Christmas.  The last time she came home was for her mother’s funeral seven years ago.  Now she is making movies.

Viv is my best friend.  We have known each other since first grade.  Since our last names both end in G and our teachers usually seated their classes alphabetically, we spent most of our youth together.  Truth be told, I was a little jealous of Viv’s singing voice.  I always wanted to sing, but I couldn’t carry a tune in a rusty bucket, so I decided I would be a dancer.  The only problem with that idea was, I had, and still have, two left feet.  Yes, I’m a no talent klutz.  Still, Viv and I remained best friends.  Our letters and phone calls have deteriorated to birthdays and holidays, but at least we still keep in touch.

Viv is a celebrity, and I’m a stay-at-home mom.  I often wonder what her glitzy life in New York City is like.  She has invited me, but I'm always too busy with my husband and our three boys to make the trip.  Therein lies my talent, if housekeeping can be referred to as a talent.  My home could be featured in one of those decorating magazines.  Each room is color coordinated and neat as a pin, even with two teenagers doing their best to muck it up with mud from soccer shoes, football cleats, and in-line skates.  Of course there is baby James, now four, our final try for a girl, who is more than capable of muddying up the place without any help from his older brothers.  I am a gourmet cook, when I have the time, and I even go so far as to iron sheets, even though the fabrics are mostly wrinkle free.  I’m a little bit of a neat freak.  Okay, so I’m a whole lot of neat freak, but that’s who I am.  Viv is a talented singer/actress, I’m a neat freak.  Alright, I’ll embrace the truth.  I’m a whole lot of jealous when it comes to Viv.

The moment Viv’s car turned the corner onto Main Street, the crowd starting singing Viv’s most recent hit, If Only I Were You.  That little green monster disappeared the moment I saw Viv’s smiling face.  When she saw me, she stopped her car, and jumped out.  We gave each other the biggest hug we could manage, and started chattering away like the old friends we were.  Once the initial exuberance had waned, Viv asked, “Want to come with me to my hotel for a drink?”

I looked toward my husband.  After greeting Viv he said, “You go on.  Have fun.  I’ll pick up Trey and Greg from soccer practice.  James, come with me.”  He took his youngest son by the hand, and the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

Thrilled to be on my own for a few hours, I hooked my arm through Viv’s, “Let’s go!”

Inside the Remington’s penthouse suite, I nearly salivated over the décor.  I mentally took notes on how I could use some of the decorator’s ideas when I revamped the master bedroom at home.  After room service brought a bottle of champagne and tray of appetizers, we sat down on the sofa, which offered a magnificent view of Lake Louise.

I looked at Viv, “Wow.  This room is amazing.  You are so lucky, traveling around the world, rubbing shoulders with celebrities.  What am I saying, you are a celebrity.  You have a truly wonderful life.  You know, I’ve always been jealous of you.”

Viv nearly choked on her champagne, “You’ve been jealous of me?  I can’t go out in public without having my makeup and hair done, and must always wear the perfect designer outfit.  I rarely sleep in the same bed a whole week.  Tabloids say mean things about me.  I cry myself to sleep more nights than I can count.  My dream is to find a husband who wants me for me, and not my name.  I want to be a wife and mother.  I’ve always been jealous of you.”

The two women looked at each other, and burst out singing, If only I were you and you were me, oh how happy we would be…

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