Putting Yourself Out There....and Falling Flat on Your Ass

Sometimes, the extra efforts you make in life turn out swimmingly. Sometimes not.

Recently I decided to try to make contact with someone I knew long ago. As you might conclude from the title, it didn't go so well. Bear with me while I provide the backstory.

When I was in 7th and 8th grade, I had two best friends, A and D. We three did everything together. Everything. Our lockers were all in a row. Some matching clothing items, I think. We even had the friendship rings. We were going to be best friends forever. Uh huh.

In 8th grade, just a few days after my birthday, A and D started acting a little odd. Finally I asked them, during post-lunch recess, what was going on. They told me the didn't want to be my friend anymore. In fact, they hated me and never wanted to talk to me again. D did most of the talking, while A nodded along. They threw the friendship rings at me. I was crushed. I cried (a lot). It was awful. To this day, I do not know what happened; I do not know why.

Over the next four and a half years, we all still went to the same schools, we were all in band, and things like that. D, especially, was cruel and made comments or talked about me behind my back whenever possible. During the friendship I had glimpsed this side of her and so over time it was easy to write her off. But still, we walked it different circles and never spoke.

A tried to say hello to me a couple of times after the big blowout, but I could never bring myself to respond. I was too hurt. I moved my locker, hung out with new people (though I always felt like it was just because they felt sorry for me). I noticed in time that A and D weren't best buddies anymore. In high school, A's crowd was closer to mine, as were some activities. Again, we never really spoke.

I admit was rude to A in some situations. I had made marching band before she did, but she was brought in late season to fill a space. While she was trying to learn the routines, I was snappy. I yelled at her on the field what direction to go and such. Not my proudest moment.

I put a big defensive wall around myself where those two were concerned. Big. Tall. Thick. But I can also say that was one of the first times I felt my own determination to leave that town and go make it on my own terms. Much as my father pushed me academically, it was that inner drive that made a real difference.

Fast forward fifteen years. We are living in North Carolina and planning a summer trip to New England for my husband's cousin's wedding. She is having her reception at their mutual grandmother's house, as we did. It's a place all the grandchildren know and love from many summers and holidays. The bride sent us a new commercial map of the area - one of those maps put out by business associations that highlight local businesses that have paid into the association. Looking through the map, I see an ad for a real estate company. The name is the same surname as A.

A's surname was not a common one. Her parents were in real estate back when I knew her. It can't be, but it must be. I go to the Internet and find their Web pages. It has a photograph...and it's the parents. I call my one high school contact who, conveniently, lived across the street from A and pimp her for information. The parents had moved but A was still out there. Interesting.

It was amazing how all the thirteen year old feelings came right back to the surface that day.

I still had no idea why A's parents would move to that small town, next to the small town where my husband spent summers, where we were married, where his mother is buried, but there was too much going on in my life to consider it. We went to the wedding, had a lovely time...but in the back of my mind, I worried about encountering the parents by accident.

Fast forward another two years. We are living in New England again, about forty miles from the grandmother's house. We establish a new family tradition for Father's Day. We plan to drive down to my mother-in-law's grave and clean it up and plant flowers, spend the day in that area with various activities and end the day at a local restaurant. Driving around the area each year, we see several of the real estate signs. Each time I am reminded of my adolescent self. It's not comfortable.

In the meantime, I see A's sister in magazines. She's done some interesting things in her life.

Then, about eighteen months ago, D contacts me. Really. D send me an email and apologizes for her behavior. She says she doesn't remember what really happened, but is sorry anyway. I knew people would be able to find me after my father's obituary was in the paper, but I never expected D. I accept her apology and say we should write it off to the trials of adolescence. She seems to want to become friends, but I don't think I can quite do that. Anyway, it's an interesting turn of events.

D's contact and apology had me thinking. Isn't it about time I make some peace with my thirteen year old self and my life out west? I'm pushing 40 here. It's about time.

Last summer, after another Father's Day and seeing those real estate signs, I did a Web search on A's last name. I found her grandmother's obituary, and understand that her parents moved back here to care for her. And in reading the obituary, A's family and my husband's family may well have crossed paths over the years, in several generations.

And now we get to the present. In the December issue of a magazine was an article on A's sister. I decided it was time to make contact. I sat down and wrote an email (retrieved from the real estate company's Web site) to A's mom reintroducing myself and explaining that I thought it was interesting that people who knew each other decades ago on the other side of the continent might have other connections as well. Offered some details on possible connections, and was honest about how I figured out those connections. Said I was sorry that I had put up such a wall in high school. And so on.

So I put myself out there. And I have heard back....exactly nothing.

I'm not expecting that A and I will become best friends again. I'm not expecting a jolly and frequent correspondence. I thought maybe I'd hear a "Hi, nice to hear from you, yes, I think these connections are interesting, hope you're well," and so on.

But nothing. Silence is cruel. I feel like I have made a complete ass out of myself.

I'm thirteen all over again.