I'd never been one for females myself. Actually, I'd consider myself rather straight these days. But you know how there's always an exception to every rule? Well, she was one of the exceptions. I'd known her for years. We had an experimental relationship years ago in high school where we met, but I didn't know her very well and it didn't last long.

Now it's years later, and I consider her my best friend. I can go to her with anything under the sun, and she never places blame, never tells me anything is all my fault, never says 'I told you so' when she'd ended up right in her advice. Over the years, that feeling of I-don't-think-this-will-work turned into what-I-would-give-to-see-her-smile. Hers is quite possibly the most kind heart I've ever known. She's beautiful, no matter if she answers the door in stained pajamas with her hair thrown into a sloppy bun, holding the baby as he'd just spit-up on her. I could drown in her eyes, and listen to her voice forever. I have to force myself to keep my fingers out of her long gorgeous red hair, off of her pale skin. And those lips. Beautiful and kissable, and heart-shaped. She doesn't ever need makeup, no matter how many times she looks into the mirror and calls herself the walking dead. Even after a day in the sun, she had turned red as a tomato, and she was still beautiful.

It would be wrong in the eyes of many. But love is love, right? It shouldn't matter what equipment you have. Technically, the equipment is meant to procreate. And that doesn't always have to do with love. I guess these days it's becoming more acceptable... In certain states, anyway. But especially not in the one we live, where all the old-fassioned old people live. To them, it's not natural, wrong in God's eyes, condemned to hell, blah blah blah. Funny how I'm not a Christian, huh? In their eyes I'd be going to hell anyways, for being a witch. But I digress.

If there were nothing to lose, I could just tell her how I feel, right? I could spill my guts to her like I do with everything else without a problem. That's if there were nothing to lose, nothing to break. Therein lies the problem. There are things at stake within each of our lives. She's in love with a guy, her baby's father. Engaged, actually, and when they marry, she'll become official step-mom to his first son from a pervious relationship. They have their own little place, raising their family. I know how happy she is. I know how much she adores him. I can see it in her eyes, in the smile she throws his way throughout the day. I can hear it in the 'I love you's she whispers to him. I'm at their place all the time, washing the dishes for her, cleaning for her because I want to; laughing with her, and talking to her. I'm there to hear her issues, to let her vent. I'm also there to watch her lean into his arms, to kiss him, to hug him and poke him playfully. I'm there to see the love between them, as they play with the baby they made together. I'm there to see her do anything and everything for him, unable to tell her that I'd do anything and everything for her.

There's also the issue that I have my own child. He plays with her step son every time we come over. They are two monster peas in a pod, constantly getting into mischief. Most of the time her fiance is at work. And when he is, I take that time to pretend we were together, taking care of the kids. We do dishes and laundry together, watch movies and play with the kids, taking turns changing smelly poo diapers and spit-up messes. I pretend it's just the two of us, being great mothers, not needing a man in our lives. As much as I love to imagine it like that, I hate that I can't put my arms around her, and tell her 'I love you'. I hate that she'll never have eyes for me like she does for him.

Once we were waiting at an appointment and there was an older woman and a man sitting next to me. We had the baby, and the boys were at the house with her fiance. It was a very long wait, and we took turns holding the baby, feeding him, changing him. I had noticed the woman next to me leaning over to whisper to the man at her side, and giving us sideways glances of what looked like disgust. The baby was asleep in my arms, and my best friend got up to go to the bathroom, kissing the baby's head before she went. I looked at her and smiled, and she at me. When she was gone, the woman at my side leaned over to her partner once more, and I overheard her say to him: "That baby should not have two mothers." I said nothing. Instead I smiled and kissed the baby's head, humming a lullaby. My best friend returned and sat on the other side of me and asked "Are your arms tired? Want to put him in the stroller?" I shook my head "Na. I love holding him when he sleeps." We smiled at each other. He was so precious. The woman next to me promptly gave a quiet "hmph" and got up, pulling the man with her. I didn't really care where they were going. I had guess their number had been called. But when I looked up a few minutes later, I saw that they had simply changed seats, away from us. I couldn't help but laugh. It felt so good, that someone thought we were a couple with a baby. But it stabbed me at the same time, knowing that we weren't.

It's a constant aching in my heart, in my head. And she's like a habit I can't break. As much as it hurts me to be around her, to spend days with her, watch her be a wonderful loving mom, I can't quit her. She's my best friend. She confides in me, and I in her. Who would I have if I didn't have her to express most of my secrets? I can't imagine my life without her in it.

I guess all I can do is wait, see what might happen. I've joked with her a few times, saying "You know if you two break up, you're coming back to me, right?" And she'd laugh it off. I wonder if any part of her believes it's true. Like any couple, they have their spats, sometimes with me present. I never know what to say when they go off on each other, so I sit there quietly and let them work it out. I want her to be happy, and she obviously is with him, with the family they've started. I wouldn't want her to lose that. I feel guilty that, in the back of my mind, I'm waiting for it to fall apart, so I can be there for her and show her that I always will. I will never pry, never wish them sadness. I will never plant seeds of doubt in their heads. I will offer my support in any way I can, if asked.

All I can do is be there for her.