Becky

Becky is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since we were embryos, as our parents went to high school together and I think my dad even kissed her mom once, or my mom kissed her dad, or her dad kissed my dad or something. Anyway, we go way back.

As a kid, Becky was always working some angle. In preschool, she broke the Bring Only One Item to Show and Tell rule: she brought a hand puppet and a marble, and when the teacher called her on it, Becky curled up in a ball, shoved the marble in the puppet's mouth, and said, in the voice of a hobbit, "It's his food." When she was seven or so, she called me from a local restaurant. She'd sneaked away from the table and needed to report something of vital importance. "Ree," she said, covertly. "I'm at Tumbleweed Cafe (she pronounced it "calf"). I smuggled about thirty dinner mints into my pockets. What should I do? I'm scared."

She also had a deep-seated psychological inability to spend an entire night at my house, or anyone else's house, for that matter. She loved the idea of spending the night with me and would go to great lengths to negotiate permission from both my mother and hers to do so. She'd get into her pajamas and climb into my bed with an entire loaf of white Wonder bread, which she'd roll into bite-sized balls and pop in her mouth. But by 11 p.m., when the Wonder bread was all gone and the reality of night hit her, Becky would crumble and call her mom to come pick her up, which her mom always did.

But still, she never stopped pursuing the can-I-spend-the-night beast, sometimes with unbelievable tenacity. She was an opportunist in this regard, even at age ten when my beloved Calico cat, Patches, was found splattered on the street near our English tudor house. The death of this cat remains among the more traumatic childhood experiences for me (along with the Full Nelsons and Double Chicken Wings my wrestler brother would practice on me regularly) but because Patches' death fell on a Tuesday, it became merely a chance for Becky to go for the gold.

Two hours after the grisly discovery of Patches, I was still sobbing uncontrollably when Becky pulled me into our laundry room. "You've GOT to keep this up," she ordered. "If your mom feels sorry for you, she might let me spend the night tonight!" That it was a school night only increased Becky's thirst for blood. School nights, in terms of sleepovers, were completely off limits, and if Becky could in any way manipulate my cats' death in order to spend the night on a school night, it would be the coup of her life.

My grandmother, Ga-Ga, arrived bearing flowers, knowing just how tragic Patches' death was for me. Ga-Ga, Becky, and I walked down to the new grave my mom had asked the golf course landscaper to come dig an hour earlier (just another benefit of growing up on a golf course, along with having well over eighteen sandboxes at your disposal and an unlimited number of lemonade stand customers in the summer.) Patches' lifeless body---now entombed in a black trash bag---lay in the dank, dark hole, into which I placed a small stuffed animal and my favorite red t-shirt with a black heart on the chest and a four-word note I'd written on my personalized stationery: I LOVE YOU, PATCHES. Ga-Ga put her compassionate arm around me and said, "Just be happy for all the good times you had with her, honey. Patches was a good cat."

That was simply too much to handle, and I turned on my heels and ran back to the house, the lump in my throat exploding into audible, blubbery tears over the loss of my beautiful, fluffy cat. I rushed into the downstairs bathroom and was reaching for a Kleenex when Becky ran in behind me and quickly closed the door. She grabbed my shoulders just as a football coach would the star quarterback's. "That was...GREAT!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with anticipation and hope over what my display of emotion might mean for her. Too overcome with tears to say what I really wanted---that it wasn't a performance; that I was so sad, I couldn't see straight; that the world was, at that moment, a cold, heartless place---I simply bit my lip and uttered, "Thanks."

My mom did allow Becky to spend the night that night. It was a school night, yes. But I was in grief and really needed a friend to help soften the blow, my mom figured. Then, as always, at 11 p.m. Becky made the call. Her mom pulled into the driveway at 11:15 and away Becky went, into the dark of night, leaving me alone at the age of ten in my abject, feline-deficient sorrow. No cat or friend would keep me company that night.

Becky was one of three bridesmaids in my wedding and will always be one of my dearest friends. But I don't ever ask her to spend the night anymore. I've learned I just can't set myself up for that kind of hurt.

Comments

[Robin]

LOVED this line: "We've known each other since we were embryos..."...and a kid who knows how to work an angle from about the same age......and that "She'd get into her pajamas and climb into my bed with an entire loaf of white Wonder bread, which she'd roll into bit-sized balls and pop in her mouth."and that she never stopped trying to get over it.But, durn, I thought the night you said good~bye to Patches would be "THE night". I winced when it wasn't.I guess you saw the good in the friendship, and at a tender age you knew people are gonna let you down, and in spite of that, you knew when to keep a "good enough" thing around (and where to build the "walls" for self preservation).Her gain that you didn't cut her loose;).A relateable coming-of-age story, I bet we're all remembering our "Beckies".

[Sally]

That's a sweet, funny story. My daughter is going through a "Can-I-sleep-over" and then calling me late at night stage. I fear she's turning into a Becky.

[Jenn]

"It's his food"Hahahah!!!! Oh, my goodness! This rest was beautiful, wonderful, and funny...but for some reason, THAT is the line I couldn't get past. That is hilarious!

[grimsaburger]

Sally, don't worry--I couldn't spend a whole night over at anyone's but my cousins until I was a freshman in high school, much less 4-H camp as a 10-year-old (although I gave it a good try the second time around, and wouldn't you know it, my grandfather died and my sister and I had to go home mid-week). Something clicked sometime, though, and boy did it click. I went off to Italy for 5 weeks with people I didn't know when I was 20, left my poor husband behind last summer for 6 weeks in Ireland, and am about to do the same for another 4 or 5 months next spring. Treasure these panicky-daughter moments!

[Swampwitch]

I was so in hopes that Becky made it through the night. Maybe you chould invite her to the ranch sometime just to see if she could now. Be sure to have a loaf of Wonder Bread on hand . . . some marbles, too. "It's his food.". . . and some 'juice' bags, just for an added treat !

[Lawyerish]

What a great story. (Except: poor Patches! And poor little Ree! Aww.) The details are amazing -- the Wonder Bread? The stolen mints? It goes to show you, life is much funnier than fiction. You just can't make this stuff up!

[pixielyn]

What a GREAT memory story!!! I LOVED it!! I'm catching up on all the posts I missed and its wonderful!!! Great times reading Rees blog this morning!!!Thank you so much for sharing all these wonderful stories and pictures!! Great writing!!

[Pam]

"I'm not a policeman...I'm a princess"Okay, it's just what preschool Becky reminded me of.You know.Kindegarten Cop. The little girl Arnold was talking to about..Ah skip it.Great story. Dang near had me crying. Course, these days, any mushy story is likely to do that. ♥Pam

[Kari C in FL]

I really enjoyed your story. The funny thing is my best friend would always come over to eat "white" bread because her dad only allowed "brown" bread. When she would spend the night, she would grab the loaf of bread and have a picnic! I had never heard of anyone else doing that until now! Thanks for sharing your memories.

[Lisa S.]

Ohhh Ree.....I was Becky until about age 12. I would go to spend the night at Lisa Ervin's house and she lived REALLY close by the railroad tracks. All it took was that 10:30 PM train and the sides of her room shaking and I was a total wreck and sobbing for my mommy. I don't know if I ever made it through a night at Lisa's house. Eventually I could do it.I was hoping that Becky would wake up holding your sad self that morning after Patches! What a great memory/story. I loved it! Took me back to my own adventures!

[Vicki]

My daughter has a friend who tries to stay over. Oh how she tries! Once when the Mom and sister were dropping her off the sister says out the window "See you when it gets dark!" And bless her heart, as the sun went down, she was just itchin' to call her Mom. Only across the river bridge away, the Mom faithfully came to pick her up everytime. Great writing skills by the way. love the wonder bread balls.

[C]

oh, that is bittersweet.

[James Cooper]

I can't say it any better than everyone else has said it. I just can't.My very belated sympathies to you on Patches. My praise to you for being such a wonderful, tolerant friend and for being such an excellent storyteller.Excellent.

[momto3cubs]

Oh gosh, you have me choking up here. Becky, how could you not come thru for her after the death of her pet?! Two blows in one day.Love your story, but I'm hurting for you now.And, I'm curious, what is Becky doing now as an adult?

[sasha]

Lucky Becky to be the subject of your online musings. I could read your writing every day. Oh, wait...I do!

[wds]

Even though Patches was a female, it is semi-amazing that I went 40 years of my life (until last week) before learning that all calico cats are female... or almost all as it turns out...From Wikipedia:Virtually all tortoiseshell or calico cats are females. Occasionally a male is born (the rate is approximately 1 in 3,000 [1]). These may have Klinefelter's syndrome, carrying an extra X chromosome, and will almost always be sterile or they may be a chimera resulting from the fusion of two differently coloured embryos.Good story... I had no idea Becky had such ulterior motives!!! :)

[Christy B]

Oh, just precious.This brought back stories of my own "friend since we were embryos". My mom got THE CALL from the adoption agency on her best friend's daughter's birthday. 'Natch, said daughter and I were destined to be best friends, and we were. Oh, and the spend-the-night-thing -- we totally drove our parents crazy with that. When we were far, far to young to use such vocabulary, the mom driving asked what we were whispering about in the back seat. "We're conspiring" we said (except I had a lisp, so I said "conthspiwing") "Conspiring to spend the night together!" And they would relent, and we would spend the night, and we would barely talk to each other, we would just sit and read together. And now, even though we live four hours away from each other, our children are absolutely devoted friends and will sit and read together; piled up on the sofa like a litter of puppies.Okay, I'm TOTALLY going to call my friend now! I'm all teary!Oh, real quick before I go -- is it my imagination, or does something different and wonky happen when I try to read the comments? Somehow it looks different. I'm confounded.

[Kate]

I'm almost positive you could still find wonder bread crumbs in my Aunt Becky's bed.

[M J]

Having someone like Becky is a wonderful thing. A friend who has seen you grow up is the closest thing you can get besides a sibling and everyone should have someone like her. Someone who has shared in life's joys and sorrows (and many embarrasing moments they could use against you during a wedding roast) are always special people.I'm seriously distraught over Patches. Seriously.

[willowtree]

I don't want to sound callous but I will... I'm not too broke up over the whole Patches thing, geez it was 30 years ago. And I'm not all gushy about having a friend for life. But I am extremely envious of the wordsmithing you managed in this story. What a great piece of prose.

[wetsy]

Becky's younger sister, Barbara, let me drive her car when I was 11. The quirkiness ran in the family.

[Anonymous]

Great story, Ree!Denise

[islaygirl]

i'm still a totally bad sleep-over-er.

[CindyDianne]

Ree - I never had a Becky. I did, however, have a friend that I couldn't get to NOT spend the night! THAT isn't necessarily the way to go either!

[owlhaven]

Great story. I'm adding you to my bloglines on the basis of that post alone. If the rest of the blog is as half as good I will be a happy girl! (grin)Mary, mom to many