Sharing the Narrative

Sharing the Narrative

MY SIDE OF THE STORY…

I’ve been duped! How could she do this to me? She’s totally taken advantage of my generous nature. It started with an urgent request and lots of tears. 

“I’m trying so hard. It’s brutal, working and going to night school to get my Masters. Could you front me some money so I can get some food? I only have enough for rent!”

I complied. My mother had paid most of my tuition for university. My friend, on the other hand, had never had that support. I wanted to be her benefactor, and if I didn’t help, what would happen to her? She owed the government money for student loans. I couldn’t just stand by.

“Thank you!” she repeated, over and over. It felt good to be helpful, and I accepted her hug. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can manage.”

“Take your time. No rush,” I responded. I had savings. She, on the other hand, didn’t.

Paying for a portion of her groceries became a weekly pattern. Every time she asked, she reminded me that she would keep tabs and pay me back as soon as her student loans were paid off. I kept reassuring her. It would be cruel to pressure her while she was working so hard at university to improve her life. On top of that, she worked as a part-time cashier.

I did, however, keep tabs of my own. After a year, the amount I loaned her for groceries had added up to just under a thousand dollars. It’s not that I couldn’t afford it, but how long would she be paying off her student loans?

When I broached the subject in, what I thought, was a very gentle way, she burst into tears. Apparently, she had several student loans and was falling behind. Interest rates were drowning her.

“Would you consider co-signing a loan for fifteen thousand dollars?” she pleaded, wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand.

My throat constricted. Sensing my pause, she rushed ahead to convince me. “I could use that money to pay off two of the loans completely. That would leave just one. The interest would be way lower. I’d be able to start paying you back. I’d finally have a chance to get out of this hellhole. Please?” 

I had to trust her. After all, we were close friends. She insisted on listening in while I phoned my bank to inquire, after demanding I put the call on speaker phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her wringing her hands.

The bank manager and I reviewed my GIC account, my Line of Credit, and the amount of my retirement pension. After examining my assets, he explained that I didn’t qualify. His words were a helium balloon of relief until I hung up the phone and turned toward her.

Her dark eyes bore into mine. “I can see you really don’t want to help me. You said nothing to try and change his mind.”

“Of course I want to help! Really! But I’m not eligible to co-sign!”

“Then could you at least lend me five thousand? I’ll never get out of this jam if you don’t! With that money, I could pay off the biggest loan with the highest interest.”

 She had overheard, from my phone conversation, that I had a ten thousand dollar GIC maturing in three days. I saw no way out. 

I slept very little for two nights. Then, slightly nauseated, I signed papers to transfer the money. She was euphoric. Her embrace knocked the wind out of me. “How can I ever thank you? Now I’ll be able to tackle paying down my debts, and I promise I will give you back every penny, with interest. I’m also going to name you as the beneficiary on my life insurance.”

I wondered how she paid premiums for that when she had trouble paying rent.

“You don’t need to pay interest. I’m glad I could help. I know you’ll pay me back when you can afford it.” I had to believe that she would, and that my benevolence was the right thing to do.

“As soon as those student loans are wiped out, you’re my priority. I’ll be graduating this spring, and it’s all because of you!”

When spring arrived, I was honored to be invited to witness her Graduation Ceremony. Proudly, I watched from the balcony of Convocation Hall as she glided across the stage in gown and cap to receive her diploma.  A happy crowd assembled afterward on a manicured field of emerald-green grass. Cameras flashed. We saw a kiosk selling expensive frames.

“Wish I could afford one of those. Guess I’ll be stuffing my diploma in a drawer.” As she watched proud parents purchasing gorgeous hand-crafted frames, she sighed.

I decided to purchase one as a graduation present. She selected one in the top price range.

Knowing she’d never had a nurturing mother, and that she’d grown up in poverty, I imagined her flourishing in a new career and bestowed her with the parental encouragement she’d lacked in her life.

However, there was one more obstacle. She didn’t have the money to pay for a licence to practice, and without that, she was unemployable. How could I refuse to help with that issue after she’d come this far? I figured the two hundred and fifty dollar fee was manageable. Then she’d be launched.

Two weeks later, I planned a weekend out of town with some other friends to see a concert and stay in a fancy hotel.

“Oh wow! I wish I could come too! What I wouldn’t give for a little getaway. For me, it’s all work, no play.” She heaved another sigh.

She deserved a break, so I offered to take her along.

“I’m too broke. I can’t afford it. Wish I could go with you guys, but I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I’ll pay,” I offered. I couldn’t stand her despondent, puppy-dog eyes. For a moment, she had resembled a bloodhound.

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have.” She pranced around, exuberant and carefree. If she’d had a tail, it would have been wagging like windshield wipers in a torrent.

Her joy was a reassuring blanket of approval.

A month later, I made plans to travel to England to see my cousin.

“Oh my God, you’re so lucky. I’ve never traveled anywhere special. I never even got to go to camp when I was a kid.”

Guilt gnawed at my stomach. I sensed she was looking for another invitation.

She continued to talk about my privileged upbringing versus her lack of opportunity. A long narrative ensued:

“When you graduated, you had no debts. What I’d give to have it the easy way, like you did. I know you helped me, and I’m really grateful. Don’t get me wrong. But it’s still going to take me at least a year to clear my debts before I can start paying you back. I just hate myself. I’m so tired of being broke all the time. I work my butt off, and what do I have to show for it?”

“Don’t worry. I told you, I don’t need the money back right away. I know you’re good for it. Take your time. I know how hard you’re working, and I’m proud of you. You’ll get there.”

“Thanks. I’m really going to miss you. Sure wish I could come too.”

Fighting against a strong current of guilt and obligation, I swam away from the gigantic fishhook.

“Wish you could, too,” I said with a smile.

Two weeks later, I returned from England. I was surprised to learn that my friend was giving away her TV and computer. I only found out because the grateful recipient, a mutual friend, was wondering if I could help her transport her new acquisitions in my car. She was delighted to be getting second-hand equipment. From her perspective, it was brand-new and worked perfectly. Her benefactor, apparently, had upgraded to a new laptop and flat-screen TV. I hadn’t been informed of this new credit card purchase.

I was livid. I surveyed my living room. My ancient sagging couch and space-ship style TV mocked me.

Anger infused me with courage. I cornered her to let her know what I’d heard through the grapevine. “Since you’ve decided to go into more debt before paying off your tuition, I expect you to start paying me back immediately.”

“But you said I could take my time! You told me not to worry. You’re breaking our deal!”

“YOU’RE breaking the deal!” I countered.

“I don’t know how I’m going to scrape together any extra money to pay you now. You know I can’t afford it.”

“You went into more debt to get yourself a new TV and computer.”

“Do you know what it’s like, to never have new things, fancy trips, and extra money? No, I guess you don’t.”

“I want one hundred a month.”

I can’t possibly manage that. It will have to be fifty. I don’t believe you’re pressuring me out of the blue like this.”

“Maybe you should give up your cigarette habit,” I snarled. She had no response.

We left it at that. Soured and resentful, I chased after that money for many months. When she lost her job, the payments stopped altogether, and she moved away to an unknown location. I hung on to the resentment, my cat claws gouging the surface of acceptance, until I finally released my grip. It took a long time.

HER SIDE OF THE STORY…

I feel so betrayed! I thought she was my friend. I told her everything about how I grew up in the projects. I shared some of my biggest secrets. How my parents were drunks, violent, eventually split up. My old man disappeared and left my mom to raise my sister and me on welfare. She wasn’t any better than him. I had to get used to a lot of “uncles.” They were all losers.

All along, she acted so generous, so caring. She said I was breaking a pattern by getting educated. She told me her mother helped her get through university, and was amazed at how I was determined to do it on my own. She kept saying she was proud of me for working so hard to get my degree and pay off my student loans. She promised I didn’t have to pay her back until I was on my feet. And now, out of the blue, she’s saying I have to start paying her back right away!

She knows how broke I am. What business is it of hers that I got a new TV and computer? Does she expect me to live like a pauper while she collects her fat pension and travels the world?

She had her education handed to her on a platter. But me, I had to struggle with student debt to get my degree. She pretended to support me, and even paid for my Social Work licence! All those lies about how proud she was, how I could take my time, get back on my feet, before having to repay her. She said the diploma frame and the licence fee were gifts. She’ll probably tell me I have to pay for them, too!

What a two-faced bitch! She doesn’t have a clue what it’s like living paycheck to paycheck and juggling bills. How can she possibly expect me to start paying her back now? What am I going to do? If I pay her, I’ll be short on rent.

I just can’t believe she’d be so heartless and abandon me like this.

THE TRUTH…

“Neither a borrower nor a lender be.” - Shakespeare