When Rachel and I met, we somehow knew our friendship would be deep and long lasting. I was playing āstickballā in the street with some neighborhood kids on a hot July day when a moving van stopped in front of the six story brick building Iāve lived in all of my life. While the furniture and boxes were being carried through the heavy wooden doors, I saw what the new family on the block looked like. I saw the mother, the father and the grandmother. Iāve seen folks come and go over time and I knew which family member was which the minute I saw them. I knew an aunt from a grandmother and a live-in relative from a friend who just came along to help. But most of all, I looked to see if any cute boys were in the picture. There seemed to be no kids at all this day. I was disappointed, so I just concentrated on hitting the pink spaulding ball with my new stick made from Mrs. Mullenās old broken broom.
Being the only girl on the team, I was totally unaware that the cheers and encouragement I heard were aimed at meā¦ āLetās go Red.ā āYou can do it.ā āCāmon, Baby, over the fence!ā After I struck out, I watched the only fan I ever had run toward the moving van as her parents and grandmother waited.
The game was over at the same time the moving van was leaving. The new family was being greeted by the neighbors as I walked by holding āsports equipmentā over my shoulder. I managed a slight wave of recognition to the girl who cheered me on and she responded by waving in return and saying in one breath, āThat was some swing you made. If you didnāt miss it, it would have cleared the fence, and my name is Rachel.ā Well, that was it; a fan and a friend all at once. Not even two cute boys could have made me feel happier.
As we grew up, we shared just about every day; school together, movies together, cold drinks on hot summer days, reading wonderful books, running after the Bungalow Bar ice cream truck, roller skating. I was even glad not to be the only girl on the stickball team anymore. Rachel was the one hitting the pink ball over the fence.
When we reached the dating era of our lives we were not as frivolous, but we did approach adolescence as a normal, fun-loving sport. There were secrets. There were always secrets. We each kept diaries and we were such close friends, we even shared what was in themā¦occasionally. It wasnāt until our senior year at high school that we realized there were some differences between us; everything before that time we seemed to be, as my Mom always said, ālike two peas in a pod, you girls are.ā
We both went to New York colleges, but they were miles apart. For me it was like losing my right arm with no prosthetic in sight. Iām sure Rachel felt the sameā¦for the first year. We saw each other only once or twice on holidays at home and wrote letters the rest of the year (no e-mail or cell phones in those days). When I saw her next on Thanksgiving Day, she was accompanied by Carl. He was of average height with a matching personality. Rachel looked happy when she saw me and extended her arm (hers was not missing) to show me her outstretched fingers, one of which bore an engagement ring with a lovely little diamond on it. I hugged her and said congrats, but what I really wanted to do was shake her and say, āNo Rachel, NO! Wait until you find out more about him.ā
During that visit, we spent time together–Rachel, Carl, Rob (my boyfriend at the time) and me. I saw a red flag where his tie should have been; I could have sworn I saw him using red flags to cut his meat at dinner. He spoke of nothing but money, how to spend it, how not to spend it and how he was going to teach his wife how to live with his philosophy. His attitude toward Rachel was rude and condescending. She did not flinch at his words and I knew I would somehow have to make her aware of what she was getting herself intoā¦so I wrote letters. It was years before I heard from her again.
āDear Red,
I wanted to write to you so many times over the years, but Carl said you werenāt a good influence over me. I have three children now, two girls and a boy. Although it was difficult for me to work full time at the local department store, I loved being a Mom. Christmas is nearing and my thoughts of you and our childhood together seem to mean more to me than I could ever have imagined.
Life with Carl had been a miserable, destructive, wretched and unhappy one. You saw it. I didnāt. I cannot say I wish the marriage didnāt happen, because my children are the very best part of my life. I think you should know, though, what your wise counsel could have saved me from, had I the sense to follow it.
Carl bought a long brown winter coat from a second-hand shop when I was pregnant with my first child. I wore it every winter, pregnant or not, because Carl said he liked the way it looked. Six winters and three pregnancies later, the coat was shaped like it was ready to explode with a ten- pound newborn. He approved of new shoes for me only when he was sure my old ones were worn out. I donāt know why I continued to stay with this disturbed manā¦no doubt I must have been disturbed as well.
Carl and I are no longer married and I am living with my mother back in the old neighborhood where the children are adjusting beautifully. I am financially independent now, thanks to the cheap lawyer Carl hired for himself.
You will be receiving a package from me in a few days (your mother gave me your address). Itās a Christmas present I would like us both to have as a reminder of how foolish I was and what an amazing friend you were to care about my future life. We can look into this box and see this pathetic pregnant brown coat, renew our friendship and maybe even laughā¦together.
Hope to see you soon, Love Rachel.ā
