Maizey, Where Are You?
By: Sarah Morris Shux
Tags: Friendship, San Francisco, Female Friendships, Memories, Soulmates

Photo by David Rosen

It started out like any love story. I met the most gorgeous, hilarious, does not give a fuck kind of gal when I was 24 years. To start the story out, I used to live in San Francisco. I moved there from a tiny town in upstate NY when I was 22 years old. I took an Amtrak train, the tickets cost $245 and allowed me to bring as many suitcases onboard as my heart desired. I sat sleeping up in a chair for 3 nights, but hell, I had an amazing view of the Rocky Mountains. It was the adventure of a lifetime. I worked retail and lived off of basically nothing; cigarettes, cheap beer and lots of burritos. I had a regular bar. A regular bar, like Cheers! Everyone actually knew my name. I did pretentious things like write poems in cafes in North Beach, performed slam at open mics in Berkeley and read books in dive bars. That’s how I met her. That’s how I met Maizey. She too was alone reading a book in my regular dive bar. I noticed her right away, mainly because she was beautiful. It was like Angela Chase seeing Jordan Catalano for the first time. She was wearing a vintage plaid dress and reading a vampire novel. I sat 4 bar stools down from her. I don’t remember what I was reading but it was probably something insufferable like Howl or something equivalent. I ordered a $2 PBR and paid all in quarters (my laundry money) and began to read. Every once and awhile I would glance over at Maizey.

After about 20 minutes of “reading” (I was half reading, half trying to get the bartender’s attention — I was sleeping with him at the time but we weren’t like “official” or anything, we were just taking it slow or whatever, seeing where things were going) and suddenly I noticed this dude. This dude sat down next to her and I knew right away what his intentions were. He instantly began talking to her. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I just knew he was hitting on her. She barely looked up from her book, smiled politely and simply shook her head. But, of course, it doesn’t stop there. He tried again and again. Very politely, she smiled and motioned towards her book in a “can’t you see I’m doing something” way. He apparently could not see that she was doing something because he tried for a third time. At that point I was getting annoyed and I wasn’t even the person getting hit on. I got up, walked over to Maizey and stood beside her as if we were old friends. Maizey looked up at me and smiled as if she knew. I then turned to the dude and said, “I’m sorry, were you hitting on my girlfriend?” Honest to God, it was like a teen movie from the early 2000s. I said that shit. He looked at me, dumbfounded. Finally he spoke. He looked at Maizey, pointed at me and said: “This is your girlfriend?” Without skipping a beat Maizey said, “yes, she is. Could we have some privacy?” Honestly I’ve never experienced such a cliché, albeit magical moment in my 24 years of living. From that moment on, Maizey and I were inseparable. It was one of the most genuine, loving and beautiful friendships I have ever had.

We understood each other instantly; we crashed at each other’s apartments fairly regularly, huddled together on one of our 20-something twin sized beds. In terms of real love, nothing has compared to the women in my life. For that short, 7 months of friendship that we shared, we cried together, went to concerts together, dressed up in flowy skirts with flowers in our hair to watch Patti Smith perform at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass and ran through every bar in the Mission holding hands and dancing like teenagers. She was smart and audacious and we defended each other fiercely and loyally from day one of meeting one another.

Now, I never fully believed in “soulmates” in terms of romantic partners but when it comes to female friendships, those are my soulmates. I have had several, at a number of pivotal moments in my life. Maizey was one of my soulmates. She came into my life just when I needed her and she left too soon. I have no idea where she is; the phone number I have no longer works and I don’t even know if she still lives in the bay area. I think about her regularly still and I probably always will. In terms of friendships, she was the one that got away. I learned everything about her and to this day, I can’t forget a single detail.

You know how certain songs or bands make you think about a specific time and place? Maybe not even a place rooted in reality, but a dream? So many songs make me think of San Francisco with Maizey. Atmosphere is a big one. Dancing down Mission Street, not caring about who was looking. To be honest though, no one was looking because it was San Francisco and this was normal behavior. Most of the time I didn’t know if I loved her or was in love with her and she constantly made me feel like I had just swallowed firecrackers. San Francisco made me who I am today; this is neither good nor bad, it simply is. Maizey did as well. They are synonymous in my mind. I hope that someday I will find Maizey again. Probably while I’m out dancing somewhere (after Covid, of course) drinking a gin and tonic. I’ll head to the bathroom while my head is still warm with gin and there she’ll be. Leaning against the wall near the pool table waiting for the next game and talking to some guy who won’t be taking her home that night. I know it will happen. In the days of everyone having social media, Maizey has none which makes it hard to track her down. We’ll find each other again, this I know. Someday.

We’ll hold hands and dance as if not a single day has passed.