The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Getting back into the swing of it....

I've been rebuilding my portfolio on and off all day, and while it is certainly not my favourite thing to do, I can say that I have found a positive in it: I am able to see just how imperfect my previous work is and I have been editing like mad.

I don't know if the result is a better collection of poems, but it gives me some piece of mind to consider that if my standards are higher, it's possible I'm getting better at writing? It's a fine lined theory.

I think that some of my more faithful readers have decided that I jumped ship and don't know that I've come back. It's uncomfortable to think about calling attention to my return by emailing the people I suspect used to read me to tell them that I have started a new journal, but some of them were around for the entire three years, and they are something like mute, invisible, nameless family. How's that for strange and delightful? It's probably my ego, though, which has me thinking about it, and my ego has never been especially likeable so I'll leave it where it is. They'll find me if they come looking.

My general attitude toward friends these days is frustrated at best. My three best friends from high school are still the most important women in my life (aside from my sisters who are important to me because they have to be), but there have been times in the last twenty two years when they've disappointed me or made me want to slap them. It's natural, given that we're all so diverse in our tastes and ideas, but even though we've all gone in vastly different directions, the phone still rings on birthdays, and all night cocktails and pajama parties continue. All mothers, all partners, all friends. Of course, this most recent birthday of mine went unnoticed by my best friend Kyla, who was either out of town or completely forgot about it, which I admit bothered me. Of the three, she is the one I have the strongest connection with, and I have to say I am bothered that she seemed to dismiss me, which was unusual and a little bit rude. That said, I'm not a child and I really need to get over it. She could have been out of town, or she might have had a family situation, or maybe she just didn't remember because she's busy and responsible for two small children and a husband. Of course, the not remembering irks me no matter how much I try to justify it. She's my best friend. If you can't rely on a best friend for a birthday wish, who can you rely on?

I'm rusty at this writing thing it would seem. I am re-reading my words and all I see are forced words and bland storytelling. Sorry. It will get better.

Then there's V., my closest friend in the city where I live, who has only known me for three years, but who has become quite important to me in that time. We worked together for a couple years and found that we shared a love of books and film, as well as some hidden neuroses, which served to bring us even closer together. She can't go anywhere with both of her children at once, I can't go anywhere on my own. Her mother is a selfish, childish shrew, so is mine. She is an agnostic who likes to argue about spirituality, I'm more of a lapsed Catholic/spiritualist who likes to argue about atheism. We seemed to compliment each other well, and I looked forward to the frivolous things, like the occasional coffee out or a trip to the theater to watch a really horrible film. I found myself waiting for the phone to ring, like a teenaged girl waits for a boy to call, and I'd be giddy if she rang to see if I'd meet her for lunch or to go for a pedicure. We could be girly together, or hard and vengeful (against her ex-husband or our snivelling boss or whomever was responsible for annoying us that particular day). I didn't disapprove of much about her, finding her quirks tolerable and even charming, always defending her to other people who simply thought she was odd. I never expect perfection in a friendship. If I did, I'd always be alone.

A few weeks ago, V. had the idea to go on a picnic with our children and M., who immediately jumped at the idea. Though I'd planned to visit with my parents on the day she suggested, M's exuberance and the fact that I hadn't seen V. in months compelled to rearrange my plans in order to meet with her. The day before the picnic, I emailed to say we'd have to watch the weather, given that it had rained every day for about three weeks and it was likely to happen again. She emailed back to say, yes, we'd play it by ear. Needless to say, when I awoke to see a sun-drenched morning and read that there was no rain in the forecast, I jumped into the shower and came up with a menu in my head: tuna sandwiches, baguette, a wedge of Camembert, fresh peaches, mineral water, soda etc. I was starving by the time I dried my hair and I dressed Katriona in her best playclothes, careful not to tell her where we were going, sensing that it would not be wise. By eleven o'clock I was mildly concerned that I had not heard from V. By noon I was mildly annoyed. At twelve-thirty I called and left a message for her to call me back right away to tell me what her intentions were. I ran back and forth to my computer to see if a contrite, explanatory email had been sent, only to find that it had not. By almost three o'clock it was apparent that the picnic was not going to happen, not that it could have at that point given that I'd had to feed the wee one a couple hours before. M. and I elected to go out for a couple hours anyway, just to breathe in the fresh air and let the sun warm our skin. I was angry, but also, I was concerned. What sort of person plans to get together with you and your family, and then leaves you hanging like that? It didn't seem reasonable. It didn't seem kind.

I went away the next day, without receiving a phone call or email from her, thinking that when I returned there would be some sort of explanation. A week later, there was still nothing. I searched through the local obituaries, wondering if a family member had died which was the only thing I could fathom would cause someone to not explain themselves in this situation. Oddly enough, this is how I learned that my next door neighbour had passed away (we called him Clampett Sr., though it was not his name), and the shock of that erased V. from my mind for a moment. Then, I got angry. How dare she treat me like I didn't matter, especially after I rearranged my plans so that I could spend time with her. How dare she make me wait by the phone on a gorgeous, summer Saturday, wondering where she was or if she was okay. This was not alright.

I emailed a short, non-accusatory note asking for her to let me know if she was okay. I did not berate or preach, I simply wanted to know if she and her family were well. It did not seem wise to come at her with anger, given that any number of things could have happened, so I kept it simple and light. I just wanted to know that she was okay.

Sure enough, she was. She wrote that some sort of ex-husband drama had developed and that she'd been unable to show up for the picnic and she was sorry if I was mad at her. There was nothing more, no attempt to reschedule or any kind of explanation as to what the ex-husband drama was, just a quick, tidy excuse, clumsily wrapped in a flimsy apology. She ended it with 'maybe we can get together for lunch to celebrate your upcoming birthday'.

I did not write back. It wasn't as though I was being vindictive, though. I just didn't know where my head was with regard to this bizarre situation. How many times has this woman behaved this way? I wondered. More times than I can count. There was the movie/Indian takeout night where she called ten minutes before she was meant to arrive, stating that she was too tired to come. There was the dinner party that a co-worker had planned for weeks, which V. cancelled herself out of the very day it was meant to take place when she found out that her great-aunt had died unexpectedly. The fact that she barely knew the aunt and that woman was well into her eighties lead me to believe that she'd been looking for an out all along. She later admitted to me that she didn't care about the aunt at all, and had been relieved to have an excuse fall into her lap. I attributed this to social anxiety and left it alone. Countless lunch dates that fell through because of babysitter issues, movies that we had to see in the early afternoon because she claimed to have loads of laundry to do at night. Swift exits after coffee, with conversations left in the air and sparks on her heels. My closest friend in this city had become unreliable and slightly unlikable.

Last week she emailed back:

Hey You,

Haven't heard back from you, I assume you're still upset with me. My babysitter fell through for Sat (Craig) so lunch wouldn't have been an option anyway. Hope everything is good with you and the fam.

*sigh*

I emailed back to say that I wasn't upset, not really, and it was true, I was past it. I did write that I just didn't know what I could rely on and what I couldn't, and that it would be a wonderful thing if she could just stop being so 'wishy washy' about her commitments, giving thought to the fact that maybe the person on the other end might be important to. I was careful with how I worded it, knowing how sensitive she can be, and I ended it by saying that I'd love to get together when she was able to find a suitable time. I was going to be a big girl, I decided. The old me would have criticized and put her in her place for being so damned self-absorbed, but the new me decided to be a grown up. I even took it further. The day before my birthday, I worked up the courage to go shopping on my own (a difficult thing for neurotic me), and I went into her workplace to reassure her that I was not holding any kind of grudge and that I sincerely wanted our friendship to stay on track. When I saw her, she seemed preoccupied, citing some sort of melodrama at work, and she was nervously looking around to make sure her manager wasn't watching us. She was polite and perhaps even slightly happy to see me, but it was apparent that no kind of serious conversation would be possible, so I told her I would go and she could contact me when it was convenient on her end.

That was five days ago. I am now done. I will not be writing any further emails or making trips to see her. I will not be making any phone calls or arranging my schedule around her. This is not a friendship, you see. This is a passive-aggressive kind of abuse, the sort where the person tells you how much they care about you, and then set about ignoring you and making you feel small and inconsequential. It doesn't interest me as to the reasons why. I am no longer in a position of feeling sympathy or concern. What I am feeling is disenchanted, and kind of stupid, to be honest, that I gave so many chances to someone who clearly has no regard for my feelings. I am also feeling confused, as she used my termination at work last year as her excuse for resigning, stating that she was so traumatized and saddened by my absence that she could not go on there. I took that as a sign of true friendship and respect. Now, I see it as some kind of excuse for leaving.

Friendship has always been important to me, and it is somewhat of a disillusionment to discover that very few friendships have any sort of enduring depth to them. I am disappointed that this woman who promised to take classes with me, or to go shopping with me, or to be friends forever, could be so undependable and capricious when it came to our relationship. I held back because of an intuitive feeling that she'd never be more important to me in the future than she was at the moment. There would never be any truth to her protestations. She would never be like my friends from high school.

It makes me sad that I am alone lately. I have M., and without him I'd be lost, but the shared laughter with a bonafide girl friend is a tough thing to beat. I miss having long conversations over coffee. I miss laughing at the things that M. thinks are silly and not worth discussing. I miss the camaraderie, the feminine understanding, the stories.

But, I will not call her. I am done.

I do, however, know that Kyla will call eventually. She always does.

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