"I can't marry you," Elle confessed, twirling the phone cord tightly around her finger. She was anxious and had been avoiding this call for days.

The person on the receiving end of the phone was stunned into silence, heartbroken. How could Elle do this? What did she mean? What on earth did she mean?

Elle tried to fill the awkward gap. "I can't marry you," she began again. Pause. "I'm already married."

The words pierced through the air and then hung, thick in the moment. It sounded like the end of a true romance, the last goodbye. A heart breaking into two. A river of sorrow-

The person on the other line finally spoke up, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "Elle, you idiot, duh. I know you're married. I was your f-in maid of honor."

Elle-and-Kate. Kate-and-Elle. Best friends since freshmen year in college. Inseparable at the hip. After graduation they split rent on a small one-bedroom in the West Village. They shared clothes, make-up, tears, money, underwear, a phone line, and boyfriends. They kissed each other because it was trendy and smoked cigarettes because you could then in New York.

Then Elle moved away. Got a job offer she couldn't pass up in Los Angeles and settled into life on the other coast. They were heartbroken but determined to make their long distance relationship work. They shared emails, pictures, letters, tears, enormous phone bills, and boyfriend stories. Elle quit smoking because nobody in LA smoked and Kate quit smoking because it got too expensive to buy them just for herself.

After two years of drinking tofu shakes and one year spent waiting on the 405, a homesick Elle decided to return to the east coast. Her sweetheart Kate was overjoyed. They upgraded this time around and rented a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment with a yard in Hoboken. They shared utilities, Joe-Concha-Hoboken.com-bashings, financial tips, shore houses, and boyfriends. Life was at its Jersey finest.

Heck, they even got a dog they named Yuppie. And took him to Pier A Park when they sunbathed in their bikinis.

Then Elle met him. And told Kate she couldn't share him with her. His name doesn't matter. What matters is that Elle-and-Kate became Elle and Kate.

The trio at first tried to hang out together in one-big-happy-family style, but for the first time ever, Kate started to feel uncomfortable around Elle. She didn't quite know what to think, what to make of it. So she told them to go and have fun, maybe she'd meet up with them later. Of course she never did.

Elle felt guilty and tried to set up Kate with one of his friends. Kate acquiesced and was a good sport the first three times around. The fourth time she feigned illness and told them to go and have fun, maybe she'd meet up with them later. They all knew she was lying.

Suddenly on one particularly Friday night Kate found herself feeling very lonely. She ordered Chinese from Precious and flipped through the channels. She tried calling a couple of friends, but they lived in the city and refused to come to Hoboken.

"Those f-in city whores," she thought to herself and ate some more Chinese.

Soon Kate and those f-in city whores were lined up next to one another in violet bridesmaid dresses. Elle looked beautiful in a white lace gown and was very happy. Kate was very happy for her.

I'm very happy for you," she said to Elle. And then downed another glass of champagne.

Kate and Elle had come to an impasse. Like many BFF's (best-friends-forever) who thought that they'd end up next to each other on rocking chairs, when one got a significant BF (boyfriend), suddenly the picture changed.

Elle and her husband relocated to Chicago, and Kate moved on with Yuppie and her single Hoboken life. The phone calls became more and more infrequent, the short one-liner emails more and more frequent. Elle emailed photos of their new house and of their new baby girl. Kate emailed photos of her hook-ups because Elle couldn't keep track of them all.

"Which one is he again?" Elle would ponder. "Spring Break?"

"No," Kate would reply. "Hairy Ass." Or sometimes she'd say, "Bad Boy." They soon realized it was a lot easier for Elle to remember nicknames than real names. It was funny at first, but after awhile Kate grew tired of repeating herself and Elle grew tired of Kate's stories.

The relationship was dragging on. They needed a clean break. It was only a matter of time before Le Divorce.

It finally came to a head. Kate wanted to come visit for her birthday, but she couldn't get in touch with Elle. She called repeatedly. Elle was avoiding her. Kate knew it.

"I know you're married," Kate lamely repeated. She felt foolish.

Elle was quiet on the other end. They were thousands of miles away, in two different points at their lives. It was just not meant to be.

"Elle?"

"I, um," Elle started. Then she stopped. Silence.

The question usually that follows a break-up is- Can we still be friends?

But nothing was said.