Betrayal

I worked hard to ace my grad school entrance exams and got a full teaching and research assistantship that covered most of my costs at an Ivy League college. The school was a pressure cooker where every word I spoke or wrote had to be justified, every idea had to be defended, and every minute’s worth of work had to be crammed into only 20 seconds to be sure to meet each deadline on time. This made for a fraught competition between students most of the time, but when we worked together, it was an incredible experience. I knew it would pay off if I made it through. I’d have more job and career choices because I would have proved myself.

Friendships born in the fires of the academic crucible were forged like Damascus steel, made of ingots of our souls folded and hammered until a rare and beautiful blade emerged, steel patterned like flowing water, sharp and resilient. When one student surged ahead in an assignment, she pulled her friends along with her, understanding shared in joint defense against the professors. The professors’ job was to force us to rise above ourselves to become to best engineers, writers, and thinkers we could be, leaders in our fields. In the process, they made our lives miserable. I had a nasty nickname for one of my profs, he made me so angry. I don’t use that language now, too old, but back then I called him F…face as I slaughtered him playing Asteroids at the corner deli!

But between students, what happens when the strong fire-forged bonds are torn apart by betrayal? When you are caught between two people you had counted on to be there for a lifetime and one of them rends the carbon apart, weakens it like layers of sedimentary rock, flashes of beautiful colors broken into clumps, small crumbs ground beneath your feet and gone? That is how my heart felt when my friendships with Brian and Melissa dissolved in Brian’s betrayal, a deep hole torn and shredded in the core of my being. I was bereft and grieving.

Brian was my classmate, tall and confident, with a mop of black hair and a beard. We were both studying geology and engineering. After graduation, he planned to head west to start a geological engineering firm and help heal the face of our public lands out west. I expected to go to Washington, D.C. to work to change our world for the better from the top down. I’d design projects that required the application of new technology and eventually move up in an agency to craft new policy. Such golden dreams glowed and beckoned.

Emily shared some of our courses. She was tall, striking, brilliant, and motivated. Emily was a great lab partner, too, always going the extra mile and good at keeping us working as a team to meet our goals.

“Here’s a handout on the glacial landforms I found,” she’d say, handing us each one. “I made copies for all of us.” She was a team player who made sure we all reached the finish line on our feet and on time.

Melissa took fewer classes with us, but I saw her often as she was Brian’s new wife. The opposite of Emily, she was a petit blond whose smile lit up whenever she got together with us. Her knowledge of science was good, but the theatre was her love, often showing up in the lab with tickets to Macbeth or Our Town for all of us. Her knowledge of the characters and authors always astounded me.

“Look what I got for us!” Melissa grinned. She pulled the tickets from her wallet and fanned them out. She had everyone’s attention. “Tickets for Macbeth next weekend!” The more I got to know Melissa, the more I liked her. I thought of her as one of my closest friends.

“Unbelievable! How did you get those?” I asked, glad for an excuse to take a break from the overlays we were drawing and happy that the play was after midterms.

“A friend had extras and gave them all to me,” Melissa told us as she handed out the dark blue tickets for the play. “I love Shakespeare and the historical context of each play. He had to write for his patrons, the upper classes. Macbeth had to please King James the IV who was into the occult, and sponsored a court alchemist while guarding himself against witches' evil spells with a charm hidden under his blouse. Kind of paranoid!” Melissa knew the coolest things about theater! “That’s why three evil witches mislead Macbeth to his ruin. In the real world, James the IV expected witches' covens to attack him personally, so he could relate to Macbeth who was haunted by ghosts. At the same time, James was happy that Macbeth was beheaded for treason! It satisfied his paranoia!”

I leaned over my Mylar and began to add in details from the airphotos I was examining. “I’d love to go! Thanks a lot.” I smiled back. “Macbeth reminds me of my father. He loved the witch’s chants,” I got back to work. “He was a Brit and almost suckled on the work! Every Halloween, he scared us with his recitations, his voice rising with each line, “Fair is foul, and foul is fair,” and “eye of newt and toe of frog.” He’d dim the lights, transforming his face in the shadows into a ghostly grimace, and wrapped up the ghoulish verses with a blood-curdling scream raising our goosebumps, then chased us roaring ‘round the living room. We loved it!”

Brian was an okay member of the team, but I felt closer to Emily and Melissa. Brian let the stress of the demands roll off his back like water on a diving duck. I could not relate at all. We women took it more seriously. We were one of the first generations of women to break the engineering glass ceiling and felt responsible to blaze a trail for other women and girls to follow. That meant we had to “dot every I and cross every t,” no question! But it was worth knowing we made the path easier for the women to come.

My tale of treachery tells of betrayals in it, one of a good friend and surprisingly, one of me. I’ve never thought of it in those terms before, but as the saying goes, if the coxcomb cap fits, wear it! (That’s the fool’s cap, blue and cream satin with a half dozen liliripes jangling.) I thought back to the incident the aching bewilderment came back to me as if it were yesterday.

About 10 of us planned a campout at a lake about half an hour's drive from campus. It was the break before finals and none of us could take much time off. We wanted to clear our heads before plunging into 12 days of prepping, exams, and all-nighters. We all chipped in for food and campground fees. Nothing fancier than hot dogs, hamburgers, cereal, yogurt, and gorp.  Marshmallows, too, of course. Melissa was going home for the weekend but the rest of us expected to be there. We’d drive up Saturday morning, 2 to 4 per vehicle, and split gas costs by car.

I don’t remember who rode in what vehicle except for the two in Brian’s truck. All but Brian and Emily got to the lake on time and began to pack gear into canoes we’d rented so we could camp on an island away from the crowded public beach. Bill was checking off coolers and sleeping bags on a master list. He was the best organizer among us, and it showed in every group project he participated in.

“Where are the hot dog rolls?” He asked. I opened a red-and-white cooler, and he checked 3 bags of them off his list. We were about to check the other cooler full of soft drinks when Brian and Emily finally rolled into the parking lot, an hour late, and found a parking space on the far side from where we were.

Emily had told us ahead of time she’d be late, and Brian had chimed in, “Me, too. I’ve got to get the truck’s oil changed. You can ride up with me, Emily.” I didn’t think anything of it. We were all friends. When they parked for 10 minutes before they got out of the truck. They hauled their packs over to the canoes and loaded them up. Brian was quiet for him, just saying, “Hi!” Emily said nothing at first, but her cheeks were flushed red as if she’d been on a run instead of just sitting in a truck.

Soon everything was stashed, and we paddled out to the island. Puffy white clouds floated lazily in the bright blue sky. The sounds of kids shouting on the beach faded, replaced by oars splashing, crickets chirping, occasional bullfrog croaks, and a deep sense of peace. We didn’t talk outside of pointing out where to go. We just breathed deeply and smiled.

There was a wide flat sandy area on the island where most of us pitched our tents. Brian and Emily talked softly for a few minutes and then pitched Brian’s tent at the far end of the clearing.

Once camp was set, we got into swimsuits and trunks to go for a swim. All except Bill who ran into the water buck naked. “Great idea!” someone shouted. Quickly, we all stripped down and joined him. After all, it was our private island, and we were young, strong, and full of ourselves. It felt terrific! We were free of our offices, our work, and the trappings of civilization. We loved it. I looked around to see my friends laughing and enjoying themselves. All of us except two. Brian and Emily were hiking down where driftwood was piled up past Brian’s tent. We watched them disappear around the island’s far end.

That’s how our day-and-a-half went. Most of us hung out together. We cooked, sang, told stories, and watched the clouds making shapes in the sky. At night, we watched the stars and saw a few meteors flash by. Brian and Emily showed up for meals and marshmallows, and wandered off again, in their own world. No one said a word about it. It was as if they weren’t there at all, really. Emily never joined the women’s tents but bunked with Brian down the island. They didn’t even join in our folk singing or star gazing.

The only other incident of note was a boat full of middle-aged, pot-bellied men trying to paddle into our gang skinny dipping. We climbed out and got our suits on. So much for feeling free…

It soon became obvious that Brian and Sandy were having an affair. By not talking about it, I felt like Brian was trying to obligate us to keep his secret from Melissa. I felt angry with Emily, too. To me, they were both being disloyal to Melissa and making us complicit. Later, though, I found out that Brian had lied to Emily. He had told her he and Melissa were getting divorced. I wasn’t mad at Emily anymore, and we have been friends for years now. I’m glad I never challenged her about it.

I did challenge Brian, though. I joined him for coffee at Ozzie’s Deli the day after we got back. The best way to say something hard is to just say it, “Brian, I’m friends with both Melissa and Emily,” I kept my tone friendly and direct. “It looks like you’re seeing both of them, dating outside your marriage.”

He didn’t hesitate at all.  “Yes, I am,” he said in the same conversational tone.

“I am friends with Melissa, so I have to tell her. If I don’t, I’d be betraying our friendship.” I sipped some of my coffee. After a minute I said, “I can give you the rest of the week to tell her yourself, but if you don’t, I will. Will that work for you?”

Dave agreed. He seemed together about it, and I was impressed. He was double-timing my friends but was going to face up to the situation. Our conversation moved to other things like how great the lake had been or what work we had ahead of us for finals. Everything was normal, and I was relieved.

The week went by quickly. It was packed with cramming for exams and end-of-term projects. My goal was to get top marks in my major and as close to that as possible in my minor subject. I was incredibly busy but I found out I could do it and was proud of myself.

 When the week was finally over, I wasted no time phoning Melissa and going over to her apartment to say talk about our trip. I kept it direct again. “Melissa, we all went camping last weekend and you know Brian came along.” She nodded, smiling. “I asked him to tell you what happened, and I told him if he didn’t tell you by today, I would.”

“What are you talking about?” Melissa asked. Dang, he hadn’t told her.

“Dave brought Emily,” I said, “They slept in the same tent and spent the whole time as a couple.”

Immediately, Melissa got angry and yelled at me. Somehow, I was responsible. “You should have told me right away,” she yelled. “Go away! Our friendship is over.”

I tried to get her to hear me. “I only waited 5 days,” I protested. “To give Brian a chance to tell you himself.”

“That was wrong! You should have told me immediately!” Melissa marched to the door and held it open for me, so having no choice, I left.

I never heard from Melissa again. I think she must have gone on sabbatical, taking a year off so she wouldn’t have to face any of us ever again. I assume she divorced her new husband as he had crossed the line from acceptable behavior to intolerable, his activities way beyond the pale. I still miss her, though. I liked her. She made me laugh and was always full of interesting bits of info to share, like James the IV's belief in the occult. I felt like we were good friends, and I didn’t understand how our friendship could just be over.

As for me, I cut Brian off completely. He had betrayed my frien and had not faced up to it or apologized or done anything to make things better. I assumed his marriage to Melissa fell apart. He’d committed the sin of disloyalty exposing the fatal flaw of their nascent union. If he’d been my man, I’d have been done with him the second I heard of his infidelity, too.

I was lucky never to need to doubt the loyalty and fidelity of my love. A man I met just before starting grad school turned out to be the love of my life. I missed my friends, but I was not alone. Samuel held me when I was sad and supported me through school. He moved there with me, got a job in town, and helped me any way he could. We even got engaged and married before grad school was over.

Regarding Brian and Melissa, I never figured out how I could have done anything differently. Somehow, Melissa felt betrayed by Brian, which was logical, and by me which I didn’t understand at all. Our friendships should have been as strong as Damascus steel, but it crumpled like tinfoil, a little kid's toy sword their Mom or Dad made, malleable and impermanent, caught in a grand betrayal.