Many, many moons ago I had a friend by the name of Debbie. We had spent the first year of university in the same residence and doing the same courses. Over the months we discovered that although we were very different from each other we shared common interests and humour. Debbie was not a shy, retiring young woman. She had a determination to be at the center of attention and the looks and personality to ensure that there were few occasions when she was not given at least a large percentage of the attention from males. I did not mind since I was a friend not a competitor. If men saw her as extremely attractive they were correct - she was. She was more worldly than I was but again that made no difference to our relationship. We each had other friends and other interests but enjoyed the time we spent together.
Debbie did not make the cut at the end of our first year. She had done a little too much partying and spent not enough attention on her studies. So I looked forward to a second year without my two new but nonetheless close friends. Juanita had chosen to not return and Debbie had not really been given the option. Both of them had got engaged and were more interested in focusing on their forthcoming weddings than on missing university life. I was asked to be a bridesmaid at Debbie's wedding. It was to be in late May in Bloemfontein. After spending some time with her in the city and getting fitted for a bridesmaid dress I went back to varsity.
Life was different in second year. I had met someone with whom I had begun a relationship, I was an established student who knew the system and had found a niche that suited me. There were new challenges, new friends and a lot more work. Varsity was less about social life in second year than it had been in first. I even managed to spend a little more time studying than I had the previous year. Debbie was remembered by a few people but she no longer played an important part in the minds of the numerous men who had been fascinated by her the previous year. The girls in res spoke of her with less than their former enthusiasm now that she was no longer present.
Time passed. I discovered that my parents were not amenable to me missing a week of varsity to go to a wedding never mind the expenses I would accrue during the week away. My father asked me how much I had saved towards the costs. I have a very clear memory of sighing before confessing that I had not so much as a cent. I phoned Debbie to inform her that it was unlikely that I was going to be able to attend the wedding. The response was stony silence. Then the words spewed out of her. There had been an incident concerning my organising a trunk left in storage to be sent to her that I had not managed to do. Lack of transport to the train station had been the cause but she suggested that I had not made any effort to do as she had requested. After that things were said that I can not even recall.
We never spoke to each other again. I know that a friend of mine ran into her a decade later and she refused to acknowledge him as if by so doing she could deny her single year at varsity. In my closet hangs the extremely ugly bridesmaid dress. Over the years I have been tempted to discard it but something always stops me. I think I have kept it as a reminder of the events that lead up to my discovering that I am not a perfect judge of character. I had assumed that our friendship was something that would be respected and honoured by both parties. Friendships do not need to be until death do us part but the relationship has to have a degree of balance to it in order for it to be something other than merely a fragile acquaintanceship by another name. A good friendship is special. It is rare to find someone who will listen to you, laugh with you, borrow your clothes (and return them), allow you to borrow theirs, be thrilled with your good news and console you when the news is bad. Friendship is scarce and I think it becomes even more so as we age. Partners, children, work, distance and time all place a strain on friendships formed when we are young. Making new friends is a greater challenge as we mature. We recall the easy bonds of youth far to easily which makes us critical of the new people whom we meet. Still we manage to find those people who appeal to us and us to them. We smile, chat, gradually building up to referring to them as friends. Some pass by, some stay and for a few we become the friends they have thought they would not be able to make again, and they move onto birthday gift lists and know their kids names and occupations list.
I regret letting Debbie down by not being able to be one of her bridesmaids. I am sure that her wedding day was wonderful and memorable for her and those who were there to celebrate. I spent the day thinking of her and hoping that the card I had sent would bridge the gulf but it did not. That was thirty five years ago this year. It would surprise me if she remembers my name let alone what caused the fight that ended our relationship. When she looks at her wedding photos I hope she smiles at how young she was. I hope she recalls all the wonderful moments that made up her special day. In fact I hope she does not remember me for I let her down. I can blame my parents for not paying for the train fare and the expenses but in fairness I had been wondering for weeks if I could manage to attend the wedding. Instead of being honest and discussing it with her I had left it hoping that some how everything would resolve itself. I had not been the friend I thought I was. I had not been the friend she had asked to be her bridesmaid.
I do have to admit that I would like to see just one photo of how four women dressed in earth brown long dresses, with small bright flowers scattered on them, standing alongside a radiant bride really looked under the bright Free State sky. I suspect that I am the only one with that dress still hanging in the closet!
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