FADED FRIENDS

At Balansky’s Delly, we never need menus for our grilled hot dogs topped with hot wide bologna, with pickles, lots of pickles included. I like the quartered sour tomatoes while my best friend, Betty, needs a fork to dig underneath to find well-done dills. I slap my wieners with gobs of mustard and nearly puke when Betty uses mayo on hers. Hot Heinz baked beans come in small bowls. All this and heaven too for fifteen cents. We have five cents extra for a glass of Dr. Pepper. I get a great idea. ‘Betty, let’s buy a big bottle of Dr. Pepper for ten cents and we can each have two glasses.’

My scheme works, or did work, until last week when Mr. Balansky walked by our booth, saw the big bottle on the table, folded his arms across his chest and told us to finish our lunches and get out. He pointed his finger at the door. ‘If I catch you trying to cheat me again, I’ll toss you out of here forever, and that will be your mothers, too.’

That was just last Saturday. Today Betty didn’t meet me for lunch. I waited a long time. The waitress kept asking me if I was ready to eat until finally I nodded ‘yes.’ She didn’t have to ask what I wanted as she had waited on Betty and me many times. My dogs came quickly, smelled like heaven but didn’t taste as good without my friend.

‘Mother, have you seen Betty? She didn’t meet me today. ‘No,’ was all Mother said. I walked across the street to Betty’s house, rang the bell but nobody answered. She wasn’t at the park or in the activities room with a teacher planning on a show for all the parents. Maybe she is in the hospital. Maybe she was in a car accident. ‘Mother, the family isn’t home. Where do you think they went?’ ‘Stop bothering me, Esther. I don’t know where they are.’

I ask our butcher and the very old lady who lives next door to Betty, and rarely comes outside. Miss Williams, have you seen Betty today?’ ‘’Land sakes, child, who is Betty?’ I am worried, frightened. Our druggist, Dr. Brown, doesn’t know where they are but did see her father carry two suitcases to his car before the store was opened. ‘They all got in and drove away.’That’s all I know, Esther.’ ‘Thanks.’

The next day I see Betty’s mother taking her milk delivery off her steps. In two seconds I slip on some clothes, any clothes, and race across the street. “Mrs. Tankoos, where is Betty? She was supposed to have our regular lunch with me Sat. and didn’t show up. Is she sick?’ ‘’Esther, my sister invited her to spend the entire summer with the family in Vermont. Betty jumped at the chance.’ ‘But, Mrs. Tankoos, why didn’t Betty at least tell me she wouldn’t be at Balanasky’s, that she was going away?’ ‘Sorry, Esther. Didn’t she tell you?’ ‘No, she didn’t and that was really stinky. Tell her I said so.’

Not a letter, not a phone call, not even a message thru her mother, do I get all summer. In July I ring Mrs. Tankoos’ doorbell. She opens the door and doesn’t seem to recognize me. ‘Mrs. Tankoos, are you sure Betty isn’t dead? How could she go away without telling me, writing to me?’ ‘Esther, Betty is having a wonderful time. My sister likes to travel and will be taking Betty lots of fancy places. Betty will be home the end of October.’ ‘October?’ I ask. ‘What about school?’ ‘My sister will be having a tutor at her house to keep Betty up to your level. Goodbye, Esther.’ I do believe she slammed the door too hard. I leave, more worried than ever.

Charlotte, another friend, but not as good a one as Betty had always been, now has lunches with me at Balanasky’s every Sat.

Leaves are brown, curling up in piles on the pavements. The maple trees have nothing more to free. They are bare. Looking out my frosted front window I see Betty coming out of her house to get the milk and the morning paper. Without stopping for my warm jacket, I race across the street, grab Betty, hug her almost to death. We are both happy. We part. I can’t help but notice how much weight she has put on, how much bigger her breasts have gotten, but say nothing. ‘Betty, why didn’t you write, call me? I thought you were dead.’ She only says, ‘My mother told me not to tell anyone about my summer. It’s a secret. If I tell you it won’t be a secret any more.’

She never tells me and doesn’t ever come to join Charlotte and me for hot dogs with grilled bologna.