Call Me, Taylor!

Kate Maxlow

Like any Starbucks card-carrying basic mother in her middle-ish years, Cherie

knows that if she and Taylor Swift ever meet, they are so gonna be besties. Like, if next

week, Cherie somehow gets upgraded to first class on the plane ride to the other coast

where she’ll be comforting her sister because her sixteen-year-old niece was hit by a

drunk driver, and Taylor’s private jet has, like, a broken wing or whatever, and they sit

next to each other, Taylor is just going to look at Cherie and be like, “Sister!” (But not,

like, actual sisters, obviously, because Cherie’s sister will be too busy crying and

arranging a funeral and staring blankly at walls when she isn’t doing either of those first

two things.)

And then Cherie will tell Taylor how much Cherie loves her music because

Cherie also loves shiny things but would have married her current husband with paper

rings (uh huh), because unlike Cherie’s first husband, her new husband never

disappeared in the middle of the night when their 18-month-old woke up projectile

vomiting. Cherie remembers how she kept screaming for help but no one ever came

because actually (surprise twist!) no one else was in the house. And then Cherie still

went to work the next day to teach 25 fourth graders because she was out of sick days,

and if Cherie didn’t, she and her ex wouldn’t have been able to pay the mortgage. And

Cherie knows that when Taylor hears this story, she’s going to be all like, “OMG, girl,

same.”

And because it’s a long-haul flight across the entire country, Taylor will probably

tell Cherie who the song “thanK you aIMee” is about (independent singer-songwriter

Aimee Mann? The White Lotus darling Aimee Lou Wood?). Cherie will assure Taylor

not to worry; Cherie would never reveal Tay’s secrets (unlike traitor BFF Blake Lively).

Just like how Cherie never told anyone about how her friend at work lost the lawsuit

because…. “Nope! You almost got me!” Cherie will laugh. “You’re a sly one, Taylor, but

I still love ya, girl! You want another bellini?”

Then Cherie will ask how Taylor remembers the dance moves when Taylor has

to perform after a breakup. Because, like, Cherie remembers the time that she had to

deliver a speech on teacher evaluation methodologies literally five minutes after

someone texted her the article about how a colleague’s mentally ill ex-husband killed

her, her grandmother, and their 14-month-old and then set fire to the house before

going down in a (literal) blaze of glory shoot-out with the cops. Honestly, Taylor, Cherie

has no clue what she said to those people. Could have been anything! But like, in the

song, Taylor says she could read the audience’s mind, and all Cherie has is this vague

memory of people clapping at the end. So either Cherie totally nailed it or the audience

really loved teacher evaluation methodologies. But that’s why Taylor’s making the big

bucks—she’s hitting those marks!

(Depending on whether Cherie and Taylor had a couple of drinkie-drinks, Cherie

might also tell her that she’d left her own first husband and father of her then three-year-

old daughter the week before that speech. Cherie was terrified for months to even

answer the door when he came to pick their daughter up, even though he was never the

kind to set the house on fire. It’s the origin story of Cherie’s anxiety disorder that almost

cost her the job that pays the mortgage, haha! But Cherie won’t want to get too personal

on their first meeting—red flag, lol!—even though Tay and Cherie can both sense they’ll

be lifelong friends.)

Then, right before the plane lands, Taylor will tell Cherie about that other

guy—the really famous dude that song is about—and how she sometimes worries she’ll

see him at one of the Grammy after parties. And Cherie will tell Tay about the time she

pitched a new curriculum while a baby slowly bled out of her and when Cherie went to

the doctor later, he just said, “Well, it happens.” And Taylor will roll her eyes and they’ll

both be like, “Men, amirite?”

“Because women are real tough kids, and we can handle our shit,” Cherie will

start.

And Taylor will finish, “Yeah, sometimes we cry a lot, but we are so damn

productive.”

(And maybe, just maybe, after they’ve been friends for decades, as Cherie and

Taylor sit in their rocking chairs on Taylor’s wraparound porch at the Monaco House,

Cherie will whisper, “I’ve always loved your music, and it moves something inside us all.

I just wish you’d told all the other tales of heartbreak women carry—the ones you

sometimes touched on but never quite reached—the ones that we mortal women sing

and dance through every day because we have no other choice.”)

As they get off the plane, Cherie will casually say, “So yeah, Tay, hit me up. You

bring the paper rings. I’ll bring the fire! We’ll burn the whole house—nope. Wait. Maybe

no fires. Anyway, call me, babes!”

And two days later, Taylor will.