Isn’t it really fucked up that your friend’s choice to jaywalk eventually lead to you being de-throned as the Carrie Bradshaw of your friend group? All because some loser (the person that had the right of way) decided that jaywalking “is bad” and “actually illegal even though people still do it” and therefore your friend became a bowling pin to a Porsche on the Upper West Side. You know it’s super upsetting because it means that she’s bedridden for the next month and half, she needs a lot of extra help doing basic things, and on top of that, she can’t go to the movies to utilize her AMC Stubs Membership even though it pays for itself in just a few visits.
Now, is it sad? Of course. But the problem lies within people being concerned about her… more than they pay attention to you. Even though they know you’re a former gifted kid with burnout that read at a sixth-grade level in fourth grade. You can tell that you’re not the Carrie Bradshaw of the group anymore because they stopped asking you about your new job, instead they just want to talk about “the accident” and “her fucked up spine.” However, there are easy ways to restore the harmony.
First of all, you need to be assertive. Remind her to pick herself up and get to work because she’s a strong woman and strong women don’t lie around all day waiting for their Doordash from Raising Cane’s. She’ll remember to thank you.
It’s imperative to remind everyone in the group chat that you used to be a gifted kid. Attention whores come and go, but your status as a former gifted kid is forever. They’ll never know what it’s like to be superior throughout your childhood and being seen as “just average” in adulthood. You have to do this discreetly to avoid the others from feeling inferior and stupid for being in classes with the regulars and the glue eaters, so approach the topic with grace: “I would’ve never been hit by a car because I learned fourth-grade level Street Crossing when I was in first grade…” then reel it in with a sympathetic “…but I know she has ADHD.”
Take care of her. If she becomes dependent on you, she will see what a fantastic person you are and she will willingly give up her new (undeserved) power. Go through her medicine cabinet and see what else is wrong with her. You should take some of her pills too. That’s what a good friend does to make sure they’re not poisoned or something. Compliment her by reassuring her that you would still take care of her even if she were hideous and fugly, therefore reminding her that she isn’t hideous and ugly. It goes a long way when you’re injured and your spine looks like a preschooler’s pipe cleaner.
Braid her hair and imagine that she’s a horse and you’re a wealthy 3rd grader. That your eight-floor walk up to her apartment is your fearless journey to Horse Camp. Every time you microwave her Stouffer’s Mac and Cheese for her, you’re saving her from suffering the same fate as Medina Spirit. Give her apples and carrots for a healthy snack. Change the landscape of the track by rearranging her apartment. Reward her with a key bump of ketamine whenever she feels okay enough to sit up. You’re the Harriet Tubman of the Glue Factory and you freed her.
Routinely text the group chat updates on her recovery. Send a Flexed Bicep emoji with a witty caption, “Gifted kids get the job done!”. Show everyone that you’re the one constantly taking care of her. Make them feel like shit and want to live up to you because you’re such a good friend. Take it a step further and tell the folks on LinkedIn because everyone should know that you’re the friend to end all friends.
Be suspicious. It doesn’t make sense to you that she got hit in a pretty wealthy neighborhood because everyone knows that only poor people hit and run. Rich people reverse to finish the job. So the fact that she’s still alive speaks volumes. Drop a subtle hint that she’s hiding something… then relax when she informs you that nobody saw the driver or caught the plate number.
And remember, it’s not even like you meant to hit her. You would’ve slowed down if you knew it was her jaywalking.
