Erica

     I have a friend named Erica. We're friends because I met her at my transfer student orientation to college. Yes, they inflict this kind of torture on anyone admitted to a university, unfortunately for me. Erica was standing in the welcome line behind me and I struck up a conversation. I was in a new place, I didn't know anybody and this place was not home to the friendliest of people. Lo and behold, she hated this orientation ritual as much as I did! Instant friendship. We exchanged emails at the end of the day and headed for our respective shoe-box college apartments. The first day of classes came around and wouldn't you know it, Erica and I found ourselves in a class together. We suffered through the semester and got closer. She was only a year younger than me in reality, however in maturity it could have been decades. She grew up in the suburbs of my new city, red flag number one. Red flag number two: there was always drama with her other friends, roommates, boyfriend, etc. I will concede to the fact that any one of those groups of people can just be too dramatic and it may not have been Erica, but all of those groups together? It was her. There was always drama at her parties and not a single incident-free day passed in the year I spent with her.
     The straw that broke the camel's back came to me on a night out with a very old friend of mine. We invited Erica to come with us upon realizing we had never gone out on the town with her. For all the theatrics in her life she was a fun girl. We drew straws for designated driver, got downtown, parked and walked up to the bar. Each of us presented our driver's licenses to the bouncer in turn and we were all granted entry. This is not something I had previously worried about, at least not until I heard this upon receiving our fifth round of drinks, and I quote,
     Erica: "Oh my God, I was so worried they were going to take my ID!"
Now, my friend, Casey, and I both wondered why this would be an issue but it was Casey who asked the question, "Why would they take your ID? What's wrong with it?"
     Erica: "I'm using my sister's old one now and it's expired so I'm like super paranoid whenever I go out that somebody is going to see that it's not valid anymore haha."
Now at this point, I wanted there to be an explanation for this. Please don't tell me that we're aiding the underage girl in drinking. Visions of mug shots and misdemeanors danced through our heads. I was still basking in the warm glow of denial when I asked this, "Well what, is yours in the mail or something? Where is your ID?"
     Erica: "Oh, ha very funny."
     Horrified me: "Is that your answer?"
     Erica: "Oh no don't worry! I would never do anything stupid I mean my birthday is like six months away I don't wanna get a minor."
     Casey: "You know, it's getting really late, we should probably get out of here."
With that, and some protests from Erica, we left the bar and tried not to call attention to ourselves while walking back to the car. This experience combined with her extraordinarily overt materialism and let's say sheltered (a tiny bit racist, she's afraid of anyone who doesn't look like her) views of the world have led me to believe our friendship has played out.
     The catch? She is currently borrowing my couch. She didn't have one for her apartment and the one I have is too big for my space...so at the time it seemed like a perfect arrangement. And I wanted the money she was going to pay me to rent it so I could pick up a DKNY jacket. So while my basic instinct is to avoid her presence like the plague, I find myself wanting to play nice simply to make sure I get my couch back in good condition after her lease ends. Hello rock, meet hard place. Okay, maybe that is a little dramatic but it sums up my continuing relationship with Little Miss Erica.