Friends

Today is a special day for me. I'd give a party if you'd come. The story I send today is my 1000th story in a row. I have about 500 others in different areas. What oh what will become of them? Not much. They'll just wrinkle up and die like we all do and be forgotten. In the meantime, stick with me, offer opinions, advice, and enjoy. Val

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OUT, IN, OUT

 

The members of Les Copans Club did not advise me, their president for two terms, that there was to be a meeting Saturday afternoon at Julie's house. Having learned about it apres le fact, I realized they chose Saturday afternoon because that is the day my mother, younger brother, Harold, and I spend Saturday afternoons together, 52 weeks of the year. That does mess up much of my social life, but tradition is all important to my dad. His name is Mike and he is a Nam veteran. He marches in every American parade, even if it is for the last soldier from World War I. I am allowed to go to movies on Saturday or a party, but not until I have spent at least five hours as a close knit family. I've gotten used to it, dawdle, go to the ladies' room more than I have to, leave something valueless on a counter and must go back to get it. So far, I have not been questioned about where and why I go and come back so often.

 

As to the secret kept from me, the Copans meeting was over and I remained in the dark. Our next scheduled meeting will be Wednesday, after school in Gerry's living room. Her mother will, as usual, have bowls of warm pop corn and orangeade ready for us and ask only that we don't drop the popcorn on her carpet, then will she leave us our privacy.

 

The twelve of us have no old, business. We have no new business so the secretary records nothing except Randy has closed the meeting at 4:30.  We gab, talk about boys, which of us has been kissed so far. No hands go up. Liars, liars, all. 'Who has a date next Saturday night?' This time every single hand goes up. Liars. Liars. 'Who wants to watch the end of Oprah?' Just about everybody so Gerry switches it on. We gather round on the floor, finish our popcorn. Clara and Sophie say together, 'Wow! She sure got fat again, didn't she?' I say it looks like she is going to have twins and get some giggles going. Randy asks us to turn her off so we can talk about who's had sex. 'Anybody? ' Each of us looks left and right, raise no hands, but I for one, think some eyes look guilty.

 

Sophia volunteers an idea. 'Let's put 12 identical squares of white paper in a box. Whoever has had sex can turn down one corner and we'll drop them all in my empty lunch bag. Our president can count them. We all agree to try it. The count is two. Oh, my god, the buzzing, the wild accusing eyes upset our meeting. Whoever the two sexpots are, they are pretty good actresses, show no sign of guilt. I clap my hands for order. 'Girls, girls. I admit, that was a stupid idea. Let's put it to rest now.'

 

'Any new business come to mind?' Gerry raises her hand. She brings up the four Bat Mitzvahs coming up in January and suggests we not chip in for gifts anymore because our allowances don't cover them. 'I think our parents should let us select the gifts and charge them to their accounts.' Randy says. 'We should set a limit of $20 or $25 a gift. There isn't anything I can think of that is less.' I clap my hands for silence. We vote and pass on it, needing only to explain our decision to our parents.

 

I call for order again, take a deep breath and ask, 'Why wasn't I told about your meeting last Saturday? Don't even ask how I found out.' Slowly, Randy stands. 'Because we wanted to talk about a gift for you for starting our club and being such a good president for 3 years. Now you know and have spoiled the whole thing!'  Each member, friend, hugs me and when Randy comes close, she whispers two words in my ear.

 

'I HAVE.' My jaw drops. I know just what she means.