Saturday, November 9, 2013

Sometimes, Some Things Are More Important Than Friendship

When I was in middle school, I got into a fight with this girl named Missy. I don't remember why but I'm sure at the time it seemed important enough to engage in fisticuffs, because I really wasn't a tough kid at the time. I ended up winning, and then we of course became best friends. I started going over to her house to hang out, she had a big back yard and guinea pigs, and 2 sisters and one brother. We used to play hide and seek in the back yard, and play card games in the house. Her dad kept a "well-hidden" stash of girlie magazines - Playboy and Penthouse, that we of course knew of and snuck them into her room to read. The pictures were interesting, and we would giggle together over the stupid bios and info blurbs for each girl.

I never really interacted with her mom and dad that much, they were just in the background, watching tv or fixing food. They didn't really impact us other than Missy trying to avoid her dad as much as possible, and especially trying to keep us under the radar from him when I was hanging out over there. I didn't really understand why until one night when she started talking to me about him. Apparently he liked to help the girls bathe, and he liked to do other things to them too. And had, for quite a while. She swore me to secrecy, but I knew what he was doing was wrong, and I told my parents what she had told me. My parents contacted the authorities, and it went to court, and all the kids got taken from their parents during the proceedings, and it was difficult and messy and I don't think she ever truly forgave me. We drifted apart, and barely stayed in touch through graduation. A few years later, I had just had my first son, he was maybe 9 months old, and I somehow found her contact info and arranged for her to come over and visit. It was awkward. We were older, she had joined the Airforce, and I was married and a mother. We had nothing in common anymore, and nothing really to talk about. The uncomfortable past lay between us and we never did resolve it. We said our polite nothings, made small talk, and both breathed a sigh of relief as we said our goodbyes. I haven't heard from her since. I don't regret what I did. I helped stop would could have been potentially years more abuse for all three girls. I lost a friend doing it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.


  1. Oh, yea, I remember taking her to the police detectives and helping her report it. I'd do it again in a minute, too. You done good to tell us.

  2. I didn't know you had a falling out about it. So sad.