Billy and Beth

I have 2 small cedar memory boxes. One was Mom’s – she got it when she graduated from high school. The other is mine. I just opened Mom’s. It contains Grandpa’s old wallet, a couple of his membership pins, my baptism locket, 2 music boxes – one plays Brahms' Lullaby, the other Close to You. My first picture in the paper – I was making “apple men” in 1st grade in our attempt to discuss Johnny Appleseed. Birth certificates for 3 Cabbage Patch dolls – Molly Melissa, Gillian Dawn, and Mary Martha. Art projects I demanded from my eldest cousin. A Cheer Bear Shrinky Dink. A couple of coins. And a letter mailed from San Diego, California, on September 14, 1994.

I had two good friends when I was little. In fact, I was so young when I met both of them that I can’t remember who came first. If I had to guess though, let’s say I met Billy before Beth.

Billy lived next to my grandparents, and was my favorite playmate growing up there. Both my parents worked, so I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa until I started school. I loved it there – they took spoiling me to a new level. When I wanted company, I’d go next door to find Billy – 3 years my senior, and my very first love. He was fun – would protect me from the mean little boy on the other side of Grandma’s house, devise special games of tag, would always seek while letting me hide, taught me to climb trees, soothed when I cried over the scratches on my hands, would sigh and play in the sandbox under the lilacs when I insisted. I loved Billy a lot – until Gabe, actually. I’m nothing if not loyal.

I think I met Beth at Sunday School – I can’t really remember. She was petite and blonde, the opposite to my taller body and dark hair. She was outgoing and loud when I was quiet and shy. For whatever reason, we became best friends. I can remember attending my first day of preschool, located in the basement of the church, just down the hall from where Sunday School was held. I was nervous – hesitant to leave the safety at Grandma’s – days spent reading books, taking naps, playing with toys from my special closet and eating Kit Kats from my special drawer of treats. I can recall holding Grandma's hand and standing in the doorway, toes barely touching the brightly colored rug, looking up at her and shaking my head. Offering to try again tomorrow if I could just go home today.

When I looked down again, Beth stood in front of me. She smiled, gently took my other hand and tugged me away from Grandma. We went to a little table, but there was only 1 empty chair – the one Beth had left. The teacher offered me a seat at one of the other 3 tables, and I looked at Beth with fearful eyes. That trick still works now, by the way – somehow makes people want to take care of me – and it was effective here too. She sat down and pulled me onto her lap, and there we sat, coloring and playing games until I finally warmed up to the other children.

Still, I hated when Beth would miss a day. She was protective – stood between me and the other children when they were cruel, and was always my buddy on field trips. We took turns pushing each other on the swings, but she always had to sleep over at my house. I didn’t like being away from home overnight. She was kind, sweet and funny. I loved Beth.

We moved away before I started second grade. Billy, now in 5th grade, wasn’t as fond of me anymore. I’d still walk over and knock on his door, asking if he could come play, but more often than not, he didn’t have time. Was doing homework, spending time with other friends, or performing chores. I complained about his lack of attention once, sitting in his backyard. I saw the boards on the inside of the privacy fence – the smooth side faced my grandparents’ driveway – where he used to climb up to pop his head over the wooden and grin at me when Mom and Dad dropped me off. We were talking about why he couldn’t come over to play in my yard – with the greener grass and various toys.

“Why are you grounded?” I pouted, unused to being denied something I wanted.

“I did bad on a spelling test.” He informed me sullenly, pushing the toe of his sneaker in the ground. I frowned at the mud - there was grass at Grandma and Grandpa's.

“Did you study?” I asked, still irritated at him for failing to be allowed out of his yard.

“It was hard!” He returned. “Do you know how to spell dinosaur?!” I shrugged – I don’t know that I did, and even if I wanted to give it a shot, it seemed rude. So I agreed that it did sound hard. I don’t remember seeing him often after that. He came over once to swim after we moved – I remember the subsequent photo more than the actual event though.

Likewise, I lost touch with Beth. I moved, made friends with Mandy – another social, petite blonde – and had trouble integrating Beth. We grew apart, I guess.

Not so interesting yet, right? Just my 2 first friends. Wait though – it’s about to get better.

I was in high school when Mom ran into Billy’s dad at work. She returned home to inform me that Billy had graduated and joined the Marines. I was worried – I heard they were a bit tough on Marines. Mom, knowing me well, had asked for Billy’s address. The letter from 1994? It was his response to my carefully worded letter. I haven’t read it in years – would have called myself silly for saving it because as my first (and only, actually) physical letter from a man? It wasn’t great as far as I remembered.

But in reading it just now? I smiled and fluttered a bit. So maybe it was good to hang on to it after all. Bill, as he signed the letter, (“Love, Bill” actually. Love!) thanked me for writing, acknowledged that I’d be surprised to hear from him after not having seen each other for so long (I was surprised, actually. I’d checked the mailbox breathlessly for weeks, finally giving up.), told me that high school would be the best 4 years of my life (terrifying thought, that), informed me that boot camp “sucked,” then scrawled 2 things on the very last of the space on the sheet of white letter paper lined with blue. His phone number, and the date he’d return home. He “hoped we would get a chance to see each other when he got back.” Goodness.

I called promptly on October 10 – 2 days after his arrival. He came over for dinner the next day – a Tuesday. We sat on the couch – I sat on one side, and he sat in the middle – close to me! I wore jeans and my Golden Gophers sweatshirt. I still have it. He wore dark blue jeans and a striped button down shirt – navy and green and gold. He looked so grown up – the changes in those adolescent years almost overwhelming having not seen each other in so long. He had played football in high school – the quarterback of his small school’s team. The catcher on his baseball team – his knees still bothered him some. Convinced I had chosen properly, I knew I’d love him forever.

We sat to have dinner with my family, talked of people my parents had known before we moved to the country – 15 minutes outside of town. The evening was going along quite smoothly – he laughed and put his arm around my shoulder, hugging me affectionately when I blushed over brownies that were overdone and frosting that was inexplicably runny. Never have I made brownies from scratch again. He still had his arm around me when Mom asked if he knew Beth. I felt him tense.

He clarified her last name, then shrugged. Said he sort of knew her – it was a small school. Dropped his arm from my shoulder and asked if I ever spoke to her. I shook my head.

“Good. You shouldn’t. She’s not the type of person you’d want to know anymore.”

He left after about an hour, and I immediately looked up Beth’s phone number to call her. Of course.

I told her Billy had come over for dinner – that I had known him growing up and had been excited to see him. He mentioned that they’d met in high school, and it made me think of her, I said innocently.

“Yes, we knew each other.” She said. Apparently Beth had a serious boyfriend the year before, but liked Billy a lot. They flirted, and she happened to mention that she was babysitting one night. He called her and asked if he could come over. He did, and “stuff happened.” She elaborated, but with 12 years of aging between now and then, I’ll spare you. Although, there was marshmallow creme. Enough said.

Billy wouldn’t talk to her at school afterward and she was crushed. She had, after all, cheated on her boyfriend to be with him that night. As with many of these events, someone found out, and gossip spread rapidly. Billy, Beth and Beth’s boyfriend ended up in the office after a painful confrontation, and Billy denied everything. Her boyfriend broke up with her, was ridiculed by friends, and she was miserable each time she passed Billy in the hall.

“That’s terrible!” I said, sympathetic. “People can be so mean.” Our friendship renewed, we agreed to talk again. I believed her – why would she lie? Embellished, perhaps, but fabricated the whole story? It didn’t make sense.

I remember lying in bed that night. I thought about it, and decided that if she was being honest – and if we were going to be friends – I probably shouldn’t see Billy again. But I loved him. He was brave and sweet and I’d had a crush for years! So I decided I didn’t believe Beth after all – perhaps Billy knew she’d lie and wanted to spare me from that.

I saw Billy twice more before he left again. I didn't speak to Beth until late in college - she had married a man in the Navy and had 2 children by the time I was a junior in undergrad. I still have Billy's letter – nearly 12 years old now. I have no idea what Beth looked like past age 7.

I’m telling the story for a couple of reasons. The first is that I find it interesting – that my first 2 friends happened to mean something to each other. The second is to bring up a part of myself I don’t like. Sometimes I might like men more than women. Side with them a little easier. Try harder to see the good.

Don’t hate me yet though! There are many more stories, and I really am a good person. Honestly. But I was talking with a friend the other day (a female friend, actually) and this topic came up. Since I’ve been thinking of it lately anyway, I decided to write it out and see what happened. Unfortunately, this is likely the type of series I should finish in advance. Make sure it reads right. Be more careful. Instead, I’m going to wing it. Stupid? Of course. But perhaps it will be interesting.