IWH: The Friend

I was young, about six or seven years old, I had just gotten a new doll to play with. One day I took my new doll to school. The school was the church school and all the kids whose parents were in the church spent all day, almost every day, at the school. This was the routine we followed. We went to school until 3 o'clock every afternoon and then spent the afternoon and evening waiting for our parents to take us home. Everyone stayed there except for the pastor's kids. They left every afternoon at 3 o'clock and went home. When they left, they usually took home "friends" to play with and hang out with for the day. The pastor's had three kids so they took home three "friends". All the kids at the school wanted to be one of the "friends" chosen for the day because it meant getting to leave the school and then being able to participate in all the privileges the pastor's kids enjoyed. The pastor's youngest daughter was almost three years older than I was and we hardly ever played together unless it was group activities. I never was invited to be her special friend for the day, and for the most part this didn't bother me. On this particular day when I took my doll to school, the pastor's daughter decided she really liked my doll and wanted to play with it. So, she asked if I would let her have a turn with the doll. Now, she had several doll cases filled with dolls and doll accessories that she brought to school with her every day and she and her friends would play with these all day long. I was invited occasionally to join them but I always had to play the way they wanted to and dress my dolls according to their instructions. So, to have my own doll meant I could do as I wanted with it and I was very happy about this. When the pastor's daughter asked to play with my doll I wasn't too eager to hand it over. Seeing my hesitancy she decided to pull out her biggest bargaining chip. "If you let me play with your doll, you can come home with me today as my friend and we can play with your doll all afternoon together," she told me. I asked her if she would promise me this was true and if she would make sure it happened. When she agreed to do so, I let her have the doll the play with. A short while later it was time for the pastor's kids to get ready to go home for the afternoon. Since I was to be one of the special friends that day I packed up my things and put on my coat to go and then followed the other friends out the door to the car. When I got to the car in the parking lot the woman who usually baby-sat the pastor's children stopped me and asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was the special friend for the pastor's daughter today, that she had wanted to play with my doll and had said I could come with her today as her friend if I let her play with it. The woman called the girl's name and asked her if this was true. The girl replied that she didn't know what I was talking about and that I was just making something up in order to be a "friend" for the day. The woman looked at me and said, "I thought so. There is no way she would have chosen you to be her friend." I tried to insist that I was telling the truth but the woman ignored me. "Go back inside and don't every try something like this again. You and she don't play together and it's ridiculous for you to think she would ask you to be her friend," she said. With that she got in the car and they drove away. I was left standing there wondering what had just happened and why it had happened. I felt embarrassed, disappointed, humiliated, used and betrayed. I went back inside and cried for most of the afternoon. It had been a devastating experience for me and one I would never forget.

Tears On the Bus

I climbed on the bus, cellphone smashed to my ear, trying to juggle my bus pass and my bag as well as trying to make sure the phone didn't fall. My sister was talking on the other end. The despair was rising in my stomach and making its way to chest. I managed to pull my bus pass through the machine and started making my way to the back of the bus. I was still trying to listen to what my sister had to say but I was slowly growing less willing to bend my ear. Her accusations came like harsh slaps on the face. Her expectations seemed insurmountable. I was speaking in hushed strained tones as I tried desperately to explain myself, to reason with her, to tell her how I was feeling and what I was going through. She wasn't listening. It was like talking to a brick wall. She kept talking until I finally had enough and halted the conversation by telling her I didn't want to talk anymore. There were only a couple people on the bus, but they were staring at me as though I was an alien with three heads. I had found a place at the back of the bus - a window seat. I was trying to speak in even more hushed tones but the frustration was rising and I could tell I wasn't succeeding at being inconspicuous. My sister kept talking, bringing up painful memories from the past, trying to say something to convince me to see things her way. Nothing mattered but what my family thought. What about my thoughts? What about my dreams? What about my desires and how I saw things? What about my life? When did I get to start living my life and quit living everyone else's? When would my family see me as me and not a reproduction of themselves? When would I get to be my own person and be loved and respected for who I was rather than constantly being forced to conform, to fit a mold that I didn't fit?
The cell phone was growing warm in my hand. My head hurt from listening, from thinking. The desperation, the hurt, the frustration rose as tears in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. Now there were quite a few more people on the bus and a couple had seated themselves right behind me and across the aisle from me. I was embarrassed at my red, blotchy face and the tears that were still tumbling down my face; I couldn't stop the flow. It was all I could do to keep the sobs from escaping my mouth; resisting the tears was out of the question. My sister had finally said everything she wanted to say. "I love you. We can talk some more later. Bye." As she said goodbye I mumbled something and closed my phone. I turned so that I was completely facing the window. I had another 15 minute ride until I could escape the wondering probing eyes of those on the bus around me.
It was raining outside. The raindrops fell on the window and ran down it making small streams. I leaned my head against the glass and let the tears fall. I didn't care anymore who saw me. They would just have to wonder and stare. I had held it in too long; there was no resistance left. I knew the tears wouldn't fix anything but they were there and I couldn't hold them back. It was still raining outside. The gray clouds and stormy atmosphere felt like a picture of me, what I looked like inside. It was raining outside, raining inside.