A tribute
A couple months ago, I posted about having gone to a beltane ceremony with Emma, and discovering that there was still something from my childhood that was a little more sensative than I’d thought. They wanted us to think of our very first childhood friend, and come up with some good memories about them. So I did some flipping back through my brains very large album of memories, and it struck me. My best friend, Leah. I hadn’t thought about her much in recent years. Everytime I did, I would have this strong urge to find her, and yet I would be too scared to find her for fear she either wouldn’t want to talk to me, or just wouldn’t remember me. But I started talking that day about her, and who she was, and then I started crying. I don’t know where it came from other than the fact that it was a strong sadness I’d been holding in and had been running, or avoiding it for years. So I’ll start from the beginning.
I met Leah in 1983 when we started first grade. I remember how fun she was. I also remember the enitial “are you a boy or a girl?” questions. She struck me as a bit of a tom boy, but then again, I kind of was too. We connected right away. We were always together on the playground laughing about whatever, singing songs, making fun of our fello class mates, just gooffing around. A couple months into the school year, I invited her to spend the night with me. We had planned for me to go to her house for the day, spend it with her family, then she was to come back to my house for the night and spend the next day together with me, and the abominable Kathy and Leonard.
The day with her family went without a hitch. She had both parents, a younger sister, an older sister…quite a bit older…and a brother that was a couple years older than us. I’ll always remember one particular conversation. We were getting ready to have lunch. Her mom and her older sister were preparing the food, and the mom asked Leah what kind of sandwich she wanted. She responded with, “Any kind.” Yah, she was pretty laid back. Then, her sister, who was cutting vegetables at the time said Ouch, because she cut her finger. Then, her mom burned herself while cooking, and she said “ouch” right after that. And at six years old, both Leah and I thought that was the most hilarious thing we’d ever heard. Yah, I have a twisted sense of humor, because I love to hear people say ‘ouch.” Anyway, so for the rest of our friendship, that whole “any kind, ouch, ouch,” thing was kind of our little…you know…best friend thing. She laughed at me for the next few years, because later that afternoon, I was pretending to read a book, and made up several whole new endings to the cinderella story.
So we went back to my house that night, and everything seemed ok until I got into trouble the next morning. I don’t remember what my mortal sin was that morning, but…I got spanked by Kathy for no reason. It was something small, and she, like she always did, made a mountain out of a small hill. Then, there were comments made about how Kathy and Leonard were going to sell me. They were always good at saying shit like that in front of friends, or other little girls my age. After the spanking, though, Leah came in and surprised me by hugging me. I was pulling my pants up, balling my eyes out, and she just calmly, not saying anything walked over and put her arms around me. It’s a gesture that to this day, I’ll never forget. I thought these things were normal. Kids got spanked. Kids got beaten. I never thought it was such a bad thing. Apparently, Kathy, the whole time Leah was there was saying little things that would put me down, just because I had a friend there.
Well, the day went, we ended up going somewhere. I forgot where, and we dropped Leah off at home late that night. Apparently, Leah told her mom everything, including the comment that Kathy and Leonard wanted to sell me. Her parents turned Kathy in, and that was when I got the “I don’t want you playing with Leah, she’s bad news” lecture. They’d tell me that Leonard’s friends knew Leah and her family, and they were bad news. I wasn’t even allowed to say her name in the house.
A few months later…spring of 1984…I think, I was invited to another little girl’s birthday party. Almost all the girls in my class were there, including Leah. Kathy came to get me after the party was over. She was visitting with Meredith’s mother, and I needed to use the bathroom really bad. Leah was the first one who volunteered to show me where the bathroom was. So…we came in the house together, I went to the bathroom, and we left. We got home, and they browbeated me about whi I was playing with Leah when I was told not to. I got another spanking. Yep, just because I allowed someone to show me where the bloody bathroom was.
For two years after all that, Leah would try and try to play with me, and I pushed her away. Not because I wanted to, but because I was afraid. Leonard used to tell me he’d drive by the school every day, and if he saw me doing various things on the playground, I was in trouble. So I was afraid he’d see me having fun with Leah, like normal children who are best friends do. So we argued, Leah and I, about why I wouldn’t or couldn’t play with her.
OK, so fast foreword to fourth grade. I finally got taken out of Kathy and Leonard’s house. That’s a whole other entry, so I won’t go into it here, but suffice it to say the school had had enough of seeing the marks, watching me get depressed, having me miss school so much that they finally put their foot down. I left in January of 1987, and that was probably the most liberating experience I ever had. For about five months, I had a “normal” childhood. I played outside with friends. I didn’t have to worry about coming home and having the shit beat out of me, I could have my friends over for sleep overs, and…I even got to start playing with Leah again. My second foster mother encouraged it. Leah was almost always over at there house with me, and I even got to know her family very well also. She let me talk when I was sad, or when I was afraid. She saw what I’d gone through for years, and was there when I felt comfortable enough to talk about it. I apologized to her for all the times I snubbed her on the playground. She understood that I did it out of fear. After fourth grade let out, we knew I was going to have to leave. Dad had decided I was to live with him and the good Cathy in Illinois. So Leah and I spent as much time together as we could. We argued a bit, because I think my foster dad was trying to put the moves on her, and I didn’t think it was appropriate. Everybody thought I was crazy for being upset about it. I think we were both upset about the fact that we wouldn’t see each other anymore.
On the last day, her sister, who was aspiring to be a swim teacher was over for our weekly lesson, and just funning around, I pushed Leah in the pool. She got mad, and called me an idiot. I think I appologized to her later, or at least I’d like to think I did, because I still feel bad about it.
So I left. We said our goodbyes. Her littlest sister cried, because she and I got close too, and it was my first time detaching myself from people I’d known and loved for years. We wrote letters, the good Cathy would let me call her once in a while, but it just wasn’t the same as us hanging out, acting crazy, teasing each other, whatever. When I was in sixth grade…I believe it was in april or may, Mom let me call her, and I’d gotten so angry that every other word was a cuss word. She was so shocked and more than a little disappointed in me, but I was just so mad…about everything…and was bitter. That was the last time we talked.
Just for random curiosity a few years ago, I went on one of the yellow pages sites and I think I found her little sister’s address and telephone number, but when it came to sending her a letter, I chickened out. I just didn’t know what to say. So you can imagine that thinking about Leah stirs up a lot of old feelings, and I’m just very sad. I wonder if we could have remained good friends if I hadn’t been so angry, or if I hadn’t moved away. I just don’t know. I’d like to think that maybe with facebook being what it is that she’ll find me, but I just don’t know. I guess if we don’t see each other in this life, there’s always the next. I do believe that souls follow each other into next lives, so We’ll see.
Originally published at Life in the Nuthouse. Please leave any comments there.