| The New York Optimist |
Delaney
We were a pair, Delaney and I. I had just turned 13 and was starting public high school. Delaney was a girl
from Hubbard, some rural town somewhere in Oregon. She had just moved to Portland. I liked her. She had a
good laugh. She was a couple of years older than I was. We clicked. We went everywhere together and I was in love.
Oh, not like that, not like she was my lover, no! Teenage girls simply tend to fall in love with one another, becoming
inseparable co-conspirators in the game of life.
Life at public school was very different for me. Up until then, I had spent my entire education at the school of Our
Lady of Perpetual Obligation, tormented by my guilt that I was a worthless sinner; taught by nuns, who are masters of
controlling children through humiliation and shame. (I’m still recovering.) When the possibility of freedom from
parochial education came up, I decided that enough was enough and demanded that I be allowed to attend public
school. My father, two years into disability retirement, no doubt was relieved on some unspoken level that he didn’t
have to figure out how to pay for my continued parochial education. My parents reluctantly conceded.
I was free! I didn’t have to wear that horrible uniform any more. On my first day I arrived in
a bell skirt, patent shoes, and lace blouse. Of course now I realize that I looked like a complete and utter
nerd-ola. As soon as I walked through the door I knew that I had no idea what public school was really like. I felt like
the only person wearing a costume at the masquerade ball. In fact I was dumb-struck by it all. The first time I’d heard
the word, “fuck,” I rushed to the toilet vomiting. Oh I had heard a curse word or two from my father but the worst
my mother had ever come up with was, “oh hell!”
Like a deer in the headlights, I wandered the halls of my high school --- until I met Delaney. As soon as I saw her, I
liked her. She was standing there in the middle of a crowd of people telling them
exactly what she thought about the exploitation of “young women being Rose Festival Princesses.” She was brilliant
and outspoken and funny. She had an infectious laugh and everyone was laughing with her. My first thought was,
“Thank you, Jesus!” My next was how to get over there and meet her. The moment we met. I knew that I had found
a friend in Delaney. She seemed wise beyond her years and obviously knew a thing or two about life. There was a
knowing look in her eyes, as though she carried some beautiful, terrible secret. Later, she would tell me that she had
seen her father blow his brains out in her front yard when she was 9. It was sad and messed up but it gave Delaney
something, something she would never have if that hadn’t happened. I admired her for carrying all that sadness in her
heart and not going crazy. Delaney knew how to listen with her whole body before she said anything. She had a
passion for life that filled me up when we were together. Delaney quickly became my guide to the world. She was my
savior and I worshipped her. She was raised Catholic too, so she understood so much about me and my life. I really
didn’t know how things worked in the world, but Delaney, well, she explained it all. You know, things like sex and sex
and well, sex.
I gave her a ring, a special friendship ring, which had belonged to my mother. It had been a gift to my mother from her
dear friend, Marie. It was a large, oblong, agate ring. Agates are healing stones that I believed held magical properties. I
wanted Delaney to have it as a symbol of our friendship.
Then one day, Delaney wasn’t at school. She wasn’t there the next day or the next or the next. No one knew where
she’d gone. I was beside myself with worry. I called her over and over but there was no answer, and this was way
before the days of answering machines. I asked everyone I could think of who might know where Delaney could be. I
kept going back to the places where we would hang out together but she was never there. I wanted to go over to her
house but I came to the weird realization that I wasn’t even sure where it was. We had never gone over to her house.
Now, she was gone. It was as if she had just disappeared from the face of the earth. I was heart-sick. I didn’t
understand. It was like a Twilight Zone experience. I just couldn’t believe it.
I keep searching, and searching, and searching for Delaney.
It took months. I kept calling her house and then, like a miracle, one day a woman answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is Delaney there?”
“Who?!!”
“Delaney! This is Lynne, her friend from school. Is this her mom? Can you p-l-e-a-s-e tell me where Delaney is?”
“I don’t know who you are and you need to stop calling here.”
Then she hung up on me. Oddly, just a little while later I got a call from Delaney. Wow… she told me she was at her
brother’s place out near Jantzen Beach amusement park on the edge of town. I went and saw her. “I was pregnant,”
she said, “I didn’t know how to tell you.” She had given her baby away. It struck a chord. She’d given her baby away
just like my birth mother had done: given me away because I was an inconvenient mistake. Was our friendship an
inconvenient mistake? I was hurt. I was heart-broken that she couldn’t tell me, trust me, be my sister-woman-friend;
as if I would judge her and not understand. It felt bitter, as if our friendship had been a sham, one-sided, my love for
Delaney in shambles.
Delaney didn’t come back to high school. She moved in with some guy. He seemed old, thin, not that bright; clearly
not suitable for my friend. It was strange to me that she had chosen this man, that she had a new life. I remember
going to a party at their apartment in NW, lots of black lights and psychedelic music. It was fun, but strange; I didn’t
know any of her new friends. We eventually just drifted apart; our lives took separate paths.
Looking back now, I think that she was already pregnant when she came to Portland. Her family had probably sent her
to relatives far from their small town, the gossip, and the boyfriend. She never told me because it was her terrible
secret. She could tell me about her father killing himself but not about her baby.
Time passed. I never forgot Delaney, but I hadn’t seen her for over a dozen years when suddenly, in some kind of a
cosmic coincidence, our paths crossed again. It was downtown. I was frantically late to catch a plane, running down
the street to my car, when I heard that laugh. I looked. And there she was, wearing that same smile, with that same
wonderful laugh. I called out, “Delaney!” She looked over, recognizing me immediately. I ran to her. We embraced.
There was a burst of light-hearted joy in that hug. “I can’t believe it’s you!” I was thrilled, tingling, filled with laughter
and smiles… but I was insanely late, and I couldn’t miss that plane. “I’m so sorry,” I said, “I have to go!” Without a
word, Delaney held up her hand. She still wore it! Then she told me, “I treasure this ring.” But I had to run. From that
day to this, I have never seen Delaney again. But I know that she is out there. And now I know that she really did love
me, too.
COPYRIGHT LYNNE A. DUDDY 2009
We were a pair, Delaney and I. I had just turned 13 and was starting public high school. Delaney was a girl
from Hubbard, some rural town somewhere in Oregon. She had just moved to Portland. I liked her. She had a
good laugh. She was a couple of years older than I was. We clicked. We went everywhere together and I was in love.
Oh, not like that, not like she was my lover, no! Teenage girls simply tend to fall in love with one another, becoming
inseparable co-conspirators in the game of life.
Life at public school was very different for me. Up until then, I had spent my entire education at the school of Our
Lady of Perpetual Obligation, tormented by my guilt that I was a worthless sinner; taught by nuns, who are masters of
controlling children through humiliation and shame. (I’m still recovering.) When the possibility of freedom from
parochial education came up, I decided that enough was enough and demanded that I be allowed to attend public
school. My father, two years into disability retirement, no doubt was relieved on some unspoken level that he didn’t
have to figure out how to pay for my continued parochial education. My parents reluctantly conceded.
I was free! I didn’t have to wear that horrible uniform any more. On my first day I arrived in
a bell skirt, patent shoes, and lace blouse. Of course now I realize that I looked like a complete and utter
nerd-ola. As soon as I walked through the door I knew that I had no idea what public school was really like. I felt like
the only person wearing a costume at the masquerade ball. In fact I was dumb-struck by it all. The first time I’d heard
the word, “fuck,” I rushed to the toilet vomiting. Oh I had heard a curse word or two from my father but the worst
my mother had ever come up with was, “oh hell!”
Like a deer in the headlights, I wandered the halls of my high school --- until I met Delaney. As soon as I saw her, I
liked her. She was standing there in the middle of a crowd of people telling them
exactly what she thought about the exploitation of “young women being Rose Festival Princesses.” She was brilliant
and outspoken and funny. She had an infectious laugh and everyone was laughing with her. My first thought was,
“Thank you, Jesus!” My next was how to get over there and meet her. The moment we met. I knew that I had found
a friend in Delaney. She seemed wise beyond her years and obviously knew a thing or two about life. There was a
knowing look in her eyes, as though she carried some beautiful, terrible secret. Later, she would tell me that she had
seen her father blow his brains out in her front yard when she was 9. It was sad and messed up but it gave Delaney
something, something she would never have if that hadn’t happened. I admired her for carrying all that sadness in her
heart and not going crazy. Delaney knew how to listen with her whole body before she said anything. She had a
passion for life that filled me up when we were together. Delaney quickly became my guide to the world. She was my
savior and I worshipped her. She was raised Catholic too, so she understood so much about me and my life. I really
didn’t know how things worked in the world, but Delaney, well, she explained it all. You know, things like sex and sex
and well, sex.
I gave her a ring, a special friendship ring, which had belonged to my mother. It had been a gift to my mother from her
dear friend, Marie. It was a large, oblong, agate ring. Agates are healing stones that I believed held magical properties. I
wanted Delaney to have it as a symbol of our friendship.
Then one day, Delaney wasn’t at school. She wasn’t there the next day or the next or the next. No one knew where
she’d gone. I was beside myself with worry. I called her over and over but there was no answer, and this was way
before the days of answering machines. I asked everyone I could think of who might know where Delaney could be. I
kept going back to the places where we would hang out together but she was never there. I wanted to go over to her
house but I came to the weird realization that I wasn’t even sure where it was. We had never gone over to her house.
Now, she was gone. It was as if she had just disappeared from the face of the earth. I was heart-sick. I didn’t
understand. It was like a Twilight Zone experience. I just couldn’t believe it.
I keep searching, and searching, and searching for Delaney.
It took months. I kept calling her house and then, like a miracle, one day a woman answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is Delaney there?”
“Who?!!”
“Delaney! This is Lynne, her friend from school. Is this her mom? Can you p-l-e-a-s-e tell me where Delaney is?”
“I don’t know who you are and you need to stop calling here.”
Then she hung up on me. Oddly, just a little while later I got a call from Delaney. Wow… she told me she was at her
brother’s place out near Jantzen Beach amusement park on the edge of town. I went and saw her. “I was pregnant,”
she said, “I didn’t know how to tell you.” She had given her baby away. It struck a chord. She’d given her baby away
just like my birth mother had done: given me away because I was an inconvenient mistake. Was our friendship an
inconvenient mistake? I was hurt. I was heart-broken that she couldn’t tell me, trust me, be my sister-woman-friend;
as if I would judge her and not understand. It felt bitter, as if our friendship had been a sham, one-sided, my love for
Delaney in shambles.
Delaney didn’t come back to high school. She moved in with some guy. He seemed old, thin, not that bright; clearly
not suitable for my friend. It was strange to me that she had chosen this man, that she had a new life. I remember
going to a party at their apartment in NW, lots of black lights and psychedelic music. It was fun, but strange; I didn’t
know any of her new friends. We eventually just drifted apart; our lives took separate paths.
Looking back now, I think that she was already pregnant when she came to Portland. Her family had probably sent her
to relatives far from their small town, the gossip, and the boyfriend. She never told me because it was her terrible
secret. She could tell me about her father killing himself but not about her baby.
Time passed. I never forgot Delaney, but I hadn’t seen her for over a dozen years when suddenly, in some kind of a
cosmic coincidence, our paths crossed again. It was downtown. I was frantically late to catch a plane, running down
the street to my car, when I heard that laugh. I looked. And there she was, wearing that same smile, with that same
wonderful laugh. I called out, “Delaney!” She looked over, recognizing me immediately. I ran to her. We embraced.
There was a burst of light-hearted joy in that hug. “I can’t believe it’s you!” I was thrilled, tingling, filled with laughter
and smiles… but I was insanely late, and I couldn’t miss that plane. “I’m so sorry,” I said, “I have to go!” Without a
word, Delaney held up her hand. She still wore it! Then she told me, “I treasure this ring.” But I had to run. From that
day to this, I have never seen Delaney again. But I know that she is out there. And now I know that she really did love
me, too.
COPYRIGHT LYNNE A. DUDDY 2009
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| "Delaney" By Lynne Duddy |
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