I Love to Write
A True Story About A Former Friend.
Our friendship had been on the rocks after she spent some intimate time with my boyfriend of two years, after she'd sold my furniture out from under me while a guest in my home, after she'd pulled up my bean garden by the roots because she said she wanted to make bean salad (and never offered me a taste)....in other words, the B word for her fit her like a velvet opera glove.
But...we'd been friends since early childhood...and our mother's were close friends...and she had never been such an arrogant witch until that miserable summer....sooo....I decided to take her out to dinner and give her a chance to explain the motives and thinking behind her awful behavior. Frankly, I was beginning to question her mental stability.
I took her to a nice Chinese restaurant. We each ordered and then there was an awkward silence. She had just steam rollered over my life and I didn't really know how to begin. I had every reason to hate her but I didn't. Maybe it was all those childhood memories. I decided to wait until we'd eaten.
The waiter brought our food. As he walked away from our table, she frowned and poked a fork at her plate.
"Look at this," she said. "Carrots! There are carrots in this dish!"
"Uh, yes, I can see there are. Don't you like carrots?"
"That's not the point." She spoke in tones of shocked outrage. "Carrots are not authentic! They are NOT Chinese. There are NO carrots in China!"
I said I didn't really know but what did it matter if the food was good.
"It matters," she said, "It's not authentic Chinese food! They don't have carrots in China!"
She'd gotten louder, and she'd now attracted the attention of the waiter. He came over to our table and asked us what the problem was.
"These are CARROTS!" She glared at him. "This is NOT authentic Chinese good! There are NO carrots in China!"
He said, "Ma'am, I don't mean to argue with you but I am from China, I grew up there, and there are carrots in China."
She grew louder and angrier. By the time the headwaiter arrived, she was standing up and screaming, "THERE ARE NO CARROTS IN CHINA! THERE ARE NO CARROTS IN CHINA!!!" Beyond his first statement, the waiter had said nothing, had given her no argument.
I suggested that the waiter take back the dish and bring her something else. Gradually, she calmed down and ate a bit of the carrot-free dish he brought.
But I was beginning to realize The reconciliation dinner idea had not been one of my best ideas.
No, our friendship did not survive. Desert was even worse. When I pointed out to her that our friendship was dying, she looked up between desert bites and said, "That's your problem."
So was the check, which was hefty and which I could barely afford on my cannery worker salary.
The drive home on a rainy night was, in every sense, chilly. She did toss one last arrogant insult at me as we crossed the bridge over a river to get to her house but I won't repeat it here because it was very personal and rang in my head in a way someone who doesn't know me would not understand.
By the time I'd driven across that bridge, our friendship begun in early childhood, was over. There was nothing left to say as I dropped her off at her house. But I said it anyway.
"Goodbye."
She slammed the car door. So much for sentimental childhood memories.
Our friendship had been on the rocks after she spent some intimate time with my boyfriend of two years, after she'd sold my furniture out from under me while a guest in my home, after she'd pulled up my bean garden by the roots because she said she wanted to make bean salad (and never offered me a taste)....in other words, the B word for her fit her like a velvet opera glove.
But...we'd been friends since early childhood...and our mother's were close friends...and she had never been such an arrogant witch until that miserable summer....sooo....I decided to take her out to dinner and give her a chance to explain the motives and thinking behind her awful behavior. Frankly, I was beginning to question her mental stability.
I took her to a nice Chinese restaurant. We each ordered and then there was an awkward silence. She had just steam rollered over my life and I didn't really know how to begin. I had every reason to hate her but I didn't. Maybe it was all those childhood memories. I decided to wait until we'd eaten.
The waiter brought our food. As he walked away from our table, she frowned and poked a fork at her plate.
"Look at this," she said. "Carrots! There are carrots in this dish!"
"Uh, yes, I can see there are. Don't you like carrots?"
"That's not the point." She spoke in tones of shocked outrage. "Carrots are not authentic! They are NOT Chinese. There are NO carrots in China!"
I said I didn't really know but what did it matter if the food was good.
"It matters," she said, "It's not authentic Chinese food! They don't have carrots in China!"
She'd gotten louder, and she'd now attracted the attention of the waiter. He came over to our table and asked us what the problem was.
"These are CARROTS!" She glared at him. "This is NOT authentic Chinese good! There are NO carrots in China!"
He said, "Ma'am, I don't mean to argue with you but I am from China, I grew up there, and there are carrots in China."
She grew louder and angrier. By the time the headwaiter arrived, she was standing up and screaming, "THERE ARE NO CARROTS IN CHINA! THERE ARE NO CARROTS IN CHINA!!!" Beyond his first statement, the waiter had said nothing, had given her no argument.
I suggested that the waiter take back the dish and bring her something else. Gradually, she calmed down and ate a bit of the carrot-free dish he brought.
But I was beginning to realize The reconciliation dinner idea had not been one of my best ideas.
No, our friendship did not survive. Desert was even worse. When I pointed out to her that our friendship was dying, she looked up between desert bites and said, "That's your problem."
So was the check, which was hefty and which I could barely afford on my cannery worker salary.
The drive home on a rainy night was, in every sense, chilly. She did toss one last arrogant insult at me as we crossed the bridge over a river to get to her house but I won't repeat it here because it was very personal and rang in my head in a way someone who doesn't know me would not understand.
By the time I'd driven across that bridge, our friendship begun in early childhood, was over. There was nothing left to say as I dropped her off at her house. But I said it anyway.
"Goodbye."
She slammed the car door. So much for sentimental childhood memories.
70-79, F
