It all began in Mrs. Blair's second grade class. Bonita moved around a lot growing up, and among homes in Iceland, Texas, Las Vegas, Asia and California, she lived in little ol' Ogden, Utah for a short time. In an effort to make her feel more at home, her grandma Michelle asked me to befriend Bee. A social butterfly like myself didn't need to be asked twice.Bee didn't finish second grade with me. Before I knew it she was moving again. It was probably a traumatic experience for me, as I've lived in the same house all 20 years of my life. But for Bee, it was just another city, just another move, just another friend. Or so I thought.
She came back every summer to visit her grandma, and to my surprise, me as well. I was given no notice to when she would be coming, but I always got the same call. "Shannon? It's Bee. Meet at the rock?"
The rock was actually a large boulder, sitting smack dab in the middle of a lawn, halfway between Bee's grandmas' house at the bottom of Darling street and my house at the top of Darling street. We declared that our meeting spot, because it was supposedly the fairest distance for both of us to walk. For some reason we disregarded the fact that Bee had to trek uphill and I didn't.
Our summer days always followed the same pattern.
One day was always spent at Lagoon, tickets and food always on grandma Michelle. Year after year I would plead with Bee to ride the coasters with me, but she very rarely would. Instead, we rode the colorful skyride across the length of the park over and over again, calling to cute boys riding by, "What's your number? My friend likes you. Can she have your number?" We were entertained for hours.
Another day was spent at the Ogden Golf and Country Club, where we had an exclusive pass thanks to her golf-loving great grandma. But forget golf, we'd don our newest bathing suits and lay by the pool, talking about school and boys in between fancy tricks off the diving board and trips to the snack shack for chicken tenders, fries and Cokes. Our order was always the same. Funny, I can still smell the chlorine and feel the bumpy cement under my water-wrinkled toes.
As most teenage girls do, we'd spend hours upon hours at the mall. Bee's grandma always loaded her up with cash for new school clothes, so as Bee picked up new Adidas and Nikes, jewelry and skirts, I would follow along, carefully selecting items that fit in my earn-it-yourself budget. It seems Bee always had a new Louis Vuitton purse and shiny new bracelets or earrings, and I tried to keep up, saving my money for weeks in advance of her arrival. While her taste was more bold than my conservative Utah style, we both bought matching charm bracelets that we wore for years, collecting oodles of charms to add to our matching wrists.
When we weren’t out and about, we spent long days at grandma Michelle’s watching Spongebob, That’s so Raven, or our favorite movie, Anastasia. We would rewind it watch it over, then rewind it and watch it again, singing along with our favorite songs. When creativity striked, we would gather deep shades of pink and red out of her grandma’s bathroom cupboard, and retreat out to the patio to paint our nails.
As any grandma does, it seemed Michelle was always feeding us. As I pass by her home every day on my route to work, I remember summer days of grilled hamburgers, freshly stirred Ovaltine, and bowls of chips and salsa.
Bee and I have more memories together than any other childhood friend of mine. But as summer approaches with its’ lengthy days and warm nights, a worry always creeps across my mind. What if this is the summer we grow apart? Bee and I are opposites in every way, from the way we look to the way we act. I’m tall, she’s short, I’m white, she’s black. I’m religious, and she’s not, she’s funny, and I’m not. The miles of distance between us suddenly echoes miles of difference between us.
So last weekend when my mom tells me Bee is on the phone, my heart begins its’ race. But as I hear her voice as I have so many times before, I know everything is just as it should be.
“Shannon? It’s Bee. Let’s meet at the rock.”
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