Friends Right?

It happened when we were 7, my friend’s grandma moved into his house. I’d always treated their home like my own, walking in without knocking and yelling like nobody cared what volume came from my mouth. I remember the day because I’d come over to see if Jesse wanted to go out and ride his bike with me. It was the perfect day: not too hot, a little bit of wind so we could fly on our bikes and there were very few clouds in the sky. When I entered the house there were suitcases and an old sourpuss scowling at me.

“Hello, who are you?”

“I’m Felicia. Is Jesse around?”

“Heeeeere!” He said rounding the corner with his hat in hand as if he knew I was coming.

“Don’t run in the house. You aren’t an animal. Behave like a good little boy,” his grandma scolded.

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t uh-huh me. Use proper sentences.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, his shoulders slumping forward like the air had be let out of them.

When we finally went outside and got our bikes from the side of the garage, he’d puffed back up with excitement that he was normally full of when we went out. We started off fast and went a few blocks before he stopped and signalled with a reverse nod of his head for me to come close.

“What?” I breathlessly asked.

“I have a secret to tell you.”

“Okay,” I waited impatiently for him to continue.

“Last month when I said that my dad was away working.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” I remembered and his dad was always away working. He had his own security business and always came back with stories of why the guy absolutely needed his product so he wouldn’t be cleaned out again.

“My Dad isn’t coming back. That’s why my grandma is here. She’s here to help my mom. I don’t really know how she’s helping because all she does is tell Mom and I how everything we do is wrong.”

“Why isn’t he coming home.”

“Grandma said he met some floozy.”

“What’s a floozy?”

“Some type of woman.”

“Like a gypsy?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s someone who wears long skirts, has big earrings and lots of make up. My mom calls the woman at the store near school one.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her. My mom said I’d have to meet her sometime and Grandma said she’s being too spineless because she’s letting me see Dad and the floozy.”

“So why is your grandma there?”

“Mom’s sad and she said she’ll help get her into shape to get up and at it.”

“Is that why your blinds aren’t open anymore? Your Mom’s too sad too let in the sun?”

“I guess.”

I remembered when my goldfish died, I didn’t care what it looked like outside it all was just grey and sad. I knew what Jesse’s Mom felt. I thought like I lost my goldfish, she lost Jesse’s Dad because he wasn’t coming back. Looking back, I kind of thought that I’d been quite astute at that age coming to that kind of realization.

We spent a little more time than usual out on the roads. I don’t think he wanted to go home, and I didn’t blame him because I could hear his grandma yelling when we got there. When he cracked the door open to see if he could sneak in I heard her complaining about Jesse running around with a girl, saying he shouldn’t be playing with a girl, how he didn’t take care of his things like his bike and how I shouldn’t be running into the house like I was a member of their family. I knew how he wanted to shrink in his grandma’s presence and just blend into the peach walls. I retreated as swiftly as I could through the door in the fence that separated our yards

Years later nearing the end of high school when Jesse and I really were segregated in our friendship groups I was forced to sit with him in one of my classes and used our study time as more of a catch up session. I could kind of tell by the way he avoided my gaze and the fact that he never really was that well dressed and was quite overweight that he suffered from the same affliction that his mother did: it was more than sadness.

“How are you? What’s new? How’s your mom?”

“I’m ok. You know just regular stuff: working at Loblaws, applying to college, and in the band. Mom’s ok. She still works at the dentist’s office.”

“I see her for my check up and she’s always so good to me. What do you want to do in college?”

“I want to be a chef. You can kind of tell I like food. You’re probably going to university, eh?”

“Well, applying. I have no idea what I want to do, so you’re lucky you have it narrowed down.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

We had a little more of a conversation and then grabbed my things and went to leave. I looked him in the eye and his eyes immediately hit the floor. I smiled at his shyness and knew that he'd be meeting his friend Randy and catching the city bus to our old neighbourhood. I had a ride with my new neighbour, Tessa, who was probably waiting outside the class ready to run. I invited him out on the weekend. I said it would be nice to go for a bike ride for old time’s sake. We made plans to meet up in the old neighbourhood and do our regular route.

Saturday morning at 10:00 am, I showed up at his house like I’d done all those years ago, however this time I channeled some decorum, as his grandma put it, and rang the bell. I waited a bit and rang again and waited a little longer. As I waited, I began to feel the tiny bit of anticipation start to leave my body and my shoulders sunk forward. I finally came to realize that either he’d gone out or just was waiting for me to leave. Whatever his reason for not wanting to come along, I had to accept it and get on my bike and just ride away deflated by the rejection of the memory of what was.