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| My First Best Friend When we travel a different path Low self esteem, teen pregnancy, addiction and abuse. |
| Heal your Heart - Love your Body - Live your Joy! Simply Stunning! A beautiful and profound experience 3 guided meditations on one CD. Access higher wisdom, intuition and insights. Change habits, release fears and activate healing energies. Buy Now Full description. Read what others say |
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| Heal your Heart, Love your Body and Claim your Joy! Reinventing Myself by Sonya Green is now available in paperback. Click the book cover to find out more. |
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found yourself thinking about someone who would benefit from visiting these
pages - Trust Your Intuition and send them the link.
If you would like to copy an article to your site or blog, you are welcome to do
so, but must note copyright Sonya Green and refer to
www.reinventingmyself.com
If you would like to support this site you might consider:
emailing in suggestions or comments, a small donation, purchasing a product or
visiting the links to our sponsors.
I didn’t recognise the voice repeating my name the way people do when they’re
not sure you have picked up and said hello. She kept saying Sonya at the same
time I was saying hello. Sonya, Sonya. Ya there? My name seemed unable to
find its way around her tongue and came out sounding like shronYA.
Maaaate,’t’s me, Fayeeee. Ya there?
Faye. The voice made sense now; too many cigarettes, stoned at dawn and
drunk before noon; a lifelong search for love in all the wrong places, and a ticket
to no way out of here. The journey back to her father’s rejection, just led her to
the violent abuses of other broken people. Not smart enough to be angry or
strong enough to fight back, but willing enough to bow down and plead for
kindness or mercy.
I had been planning a trip back home and had already decided I would drive the
extra hours to catch up with Faye. The co-incidence of her call was not lost on
me and when we started talking, forty years disappeared, and we were jumping
up and down like school-girls. We spoke quickly and kept interrupting each other
as we excitedly tried to fill in the years and tell our stories to someone who once
cared.
The last time I saw her, I didn’t recognise her. Her face then was like her voice
now; it told her story. Ironically, it was her voice that I recognized the day I
found her sitting alone in a coffee shop, twenty years ago. I recognised the
voice, but it took time to find a photograph in my memory to match it. Long
seconds passed as I reconciled the wizened face with the beautiful face in my
mind.
See looked so old and frail. Her dull, home-hacked hair gave the impression of
dust and cobwebs. Her laugh sounded like a sinister crackle, but I knew she was
happy to see me. She caught my look of disbelief and explained her black eye
and swollen lip were her parting gifts from Billy. Billy, I noted my contempt.
Little, bloody Billy Watts; a small boy when he was fifteen, but intimidating to
everyone except Faye. He was a part of the gang known as the Shark Beach
Animals; word around town was that they would rape any girl who said no. I
suspected that Billy was only accepted by the group because of his wit and
willingness to procure and assist. He wasn’t cool within his own right, although
he managed to fake it some of the time, by imitating the others. I think his height
bothered him but he acted like it didn’t matter by joking about it and acting
tough. I was left alone with him once and had to fight him off when he wouldn’t
let me out of a car.
Faye was really beautiful and popular back then; she could have had anyone, but
her low self esteem lied to her about who she was. These days the Shark Beach
Animals would be considered to be the scum of the earth; losers and criminals.
Back then though, times were very different and to many teenage girls, including
Faye, they were dangerously attractive.
Earlier on, Faye had developed a giant crush on a boy named Pete and ended up
being dumped by him after giving birth to his daughter; she was just sixteen. He
was classier than the rest and I hear he came from a good family. I think he
enjoyed the Animal scene more from teenage rebellion, rather than by natural
inclination. I think he acted like one of the boys when he was with the boys, but
he treated Faye like she was something special when they were alone; not special
enough to admit paternity though or to even tell his parents about it. Not special
enough to ask after her or the baby or help out financially or otherwise. In fact,
he took off and never saw the baby. Faye never saw him again, but she loved
him for years and rehearsed what she would say to him when he came back -
another dream that never happened.
Faye was way out of Billy’s league, but he was a friend of Pete’s and for a long
time he accepted the role of ‘almost like a little brother’ to Faye. Long after Pete
had gone, Billy somehow managed to endear himself to Faye. He was making a
lot of money from selling dope, drove a fancy car, acted tough and looked out
for her and the kid. I think Faye thought he was looking after her- like her father
never did. Somehow the lines became blurred and the safety she needed to
believe in hid the danger she was actually in.
We lost touch when I moved west, but we always sent cards for birthdays and
Christmas. We still do. Somewhere along the way, she just ended up with Billy. I
remember an invitation to her wedding but I couldn’t get there. Billy had been
busted for growing dope and was looking at a few years in jail. She later
confided that she thought he only married her so she wouldn’t run off while he
was away or that he needed someone to visit him or bring him stuff. He was
already abusive and violent before the wedding, but she reasoned that it was only
because he was short and insecure. When he proposed, she asked if she could
have Stand by Me as their wedding song. He said no. For some reason, I felt
more disappointed with that than anything else; probably because I couldn’t bear
to think about anything else, I knew I would never understand it.
In the café she told me of her despair. She had been drunk and smashed the car
into a tree. When she told Billy, he beat her up and threw her out into the night. I
couldn’t get the whole story as it came in chunks and in no particular order.
What I could understand, is that she drank Bourbon for breakfast most days and
smoked dope like cigarettes. Her daughter mothered her and she did well at
school. No one in town liked her. She had been banned from most of the pubs
and had been asked not to show up at any of the school events. Billy hated her
and wanted her out, but she had no where to go. She had never had a job and
couldn’t imagine working for a living.
I was so angry and so shocked and disappointed. I wanted to rescue her and I
wanted to confront Billy; I wanted to hit him. Her face had transformed during
the conversation and she was thirteen again and ‘I was her best friend no matter
what’ as we used to promise each other. I was on holiday at the time and didn’t
need to be anywhere, so I agreed to go home with her, and take on Billy if
necessary, while she packed a bag. Faye and I had been rebellious and reckless
teenagers and back then we thought we were bloody tough and ‘didn’t take shit
from no-one’. In that moment, that’s who we became again, and I think we
both knew that if it came down to it, we really were that tough and we really
would get this sorted.
Faye knew that I had her back covered, and I knew that she was feeling more
powerful than she had in a long, long time.
When we pulled in, Billy was building something at the back of the house with a
couple of other guys. He looked surprised to see me and moved forward to say
hello. Faye came screaming from behind and kicked at his work, smashing and
scattering it across the grass. She was screeching like a wild animal and taking
swings at him. He tried to catch her arms and spoke softly and deliberately.
“Faye, don’t.” he kept saying. The others sighed and moved away, looking
helpless; there was something about the way they moved that suggested that they
knew how this would play out.
“Faye, Faye, let it go, just get your stuff and let’s get out of here.” I pleaded.
Initially, I thought she was purging out years of anger and pain. I knew that my
being there had given her courage, but she was merciless and hysterical and
nothing was going to calm her. I could see that Billy was struggling to calm her
down, walk away, protect and restrain himself.
I was completely thrown off balance when I realized that this was something
very different to what I had been expecting. No matter what Billy said or did and
no matter what I tried to do, she would not stop; she smashed things, slapped at
him and screamed abuse at him until her voice broke. It dawned on me that it
was Faye who was abusive and violent and quite obviously this was not an
unusual event. I actually felt that Billy might have to slap her to bring her back to
reality.
Apparently, Billy had rented a small flat in town and Faye had been living there
for months. I stayed with her for a few days and we talked long into the nights. I
learned that she had become an alcoholic and he was battling a drug addiction.
They seemed to own each other; each others prisoner and warden. Violence had
become their language. She talked about leaving him; getting sober and healthy.
She could get a job and her own place in another town…
She moved back in with Billy the day after I left, and stayed for another five
years. When he left her for another woman, she went on to find other Billy’s.
Actually, I shouldn’t be suggesting that Billy was responsible for Faye’s
problems. I’m sure it all goes back to the day her father took off and left her
mother with five daughters. She was a lovely woman and did an amazing job of
keeping them all going on a bit of a pension and part time work as a cleaner. The
girls had a lot of freedom and very little discipline or boundaries. They were all
very beautiful but also competitive with each other. Faye didn’t really have an
anchor in the family other than her older sister Liz. Liz was a wild child who had
left home at fifteen and travelled with a rock band. She was super cool,
stunningly beautiful and cold as ice. When Liz moved back home, Faye tried hard
to emulate her. Liz had guys worshipping her; she treated them mean and they
showered her in attention, gifts and good times. She chewed them up and spat
them out.
Faye felt inferior to Liz, but to my eye, Faye was definitely the more beautiful in
looks and the ways that mattered more. Liz had long blond hair which probably
caught your attention initially, but close up and feature for feature; Faye would
win any beauty competition. Liz was street smart and charismatic whereas Faye
was genuine and generous.
I first met Faye a few weeks before we both started high school. We were too
young to be hanging around the café strip at night, but my parents didn’t know
that I snuck out when they went to bed. She was sitting quietly outside the group
but a part of it just the same. She was watching and taking it all in, looking like
she belonged but not feeling that way inside. She looked like a black cat. She had
long glossy black hair and green almond shaped eyes which were exaggerated by
expertly applied eyeliner. Her heart-shaped face was golden-tanned and flawless.
Truly, she looked like cat woman. She wore a mini skirt not much longer than
the width of a thick belt, fishnet stockings and white boots. She took a swig of
Muscat from a bottle camouflaged in a brown paper bag, and drew a long breath
on a cigarette. She passed the bottle to me and smiled. I thought she was the
epitome of cool!
I found out she had just moved into a street a few blocks from where I lived.
The next day I called in and we spent the day sunbaking on the front lawn. She
had a portable record player and an LP of Abby Road. We played it over and
over until we realized that the sun had buckled it. Later we bought another copy
and to this day I have always kept a copy of Abby Road. That day we talked like
two explorers who had been separated and finally met up again. We exchanged
life stories like they were secrets that only we could know about. Her place
became mine and my place became hers; we did everything together. I loved her
and she loved me; in a way that only best girlfriends of a certain age will
understand.
We shared everything; we were like a living diary to each other. We talked and
compared our way through puberty, teased the boys, sang and danced,
hitchhiked along the beaches, took up smoking and drinking, and we shared
dreams and secrets and all of the tears and laughter that came with all of that.
People used to talk about us and judge us harshly. A lot of our behaviour was
affected to do just that; we wanted to wind them up, shock them out of their
sanctimonious little boxes. Not because we were mean but because it was fun
and funny.
When Gary Freeman took me parking I didn’t know what to do. I had a giant
crush on him and I wanted him to kiss me. I had only seen my parents kiss in a
hello goodbye kind of way. I was confused. I wanted to kiss like they did in the
movies. It seemed to me that a pash should last longer than my parents kisses
and that your head should move around in a circular motion. I hadn’t seen
enough of this kind of movie to really study it. I thought I would improvise and
made up a bit of a combination of both styles. I kept my lips together and kind of
moved my head from side to side. Gary asked me what I was doing and I was
mortified when he told be to go away and practise how to kiss.
When I told Faye what had happened she just said, “I’ll show you.” She gave me
my first real pash and we practised it until she said matter-of-factly, “Don’t
worry, you’re a great kisser.” We never kissed again and we never mentioned it
again.
I can’t remember where or how she met Lenny. She seemed so excited about
him; he was so good looking and he had a car. He was eighteen and she was
fourteen. She fell in love with him and I thought that he was a dickhead. He
introduced her to sex and drugs. For a while I was happy for her and she
confided everything he said and did. He was bad for her and made her feel
immature and stupid. He played head games with her and his possessiveness of
her and jealously of me had her torn between the two of us. Too often she was
too busy with Lenny and when we did catch up she was usually unhappy and
spent the whole time talking about how cruel he was and how much she loved
him. Bit by bit, he chipped away at her self esteem and she withdrew and
became nervy. He would show up off his face, drive recklessly, flirt with other
girls and stand her up. The worse he treated her the more desperately she tried to
please him.
He became infatuated with her sister Liz, who saw him as an opportunity to drive
her around and score dope for her. Sometimes Liz would sit with Lenny in the
front seat and Faye sat in the back watching them flirt and laugh with each other.
Lenny continued to have sex with Faye but it was Liz he really wanted. Faye
spent the best part of the year crying, drinking, getting stoned and falling apart.
Liz delighted in tormenting her by threatening to steal Lenny away.
It was Liz who told Faye that Lenny was dead. She didn’t know the details but
he had committed suicide. Faye was devastated; she was changed by it forever.
Liz later said to Faye that Lenny was a loser and that she deserved better. She
hinted that she wanted to break them up for Faye’s sake and that one day Faye
would thank her.
The boys at school acted crazy when Faye was around; most of them had a
crush on her. Men stared or whistled when ever she walked down the street. She
looked like a girl that had it all and she did an excellent job at faking it. The
classier men assumed she was out of their league because she looked right
through them. I don’t know how she picked them but she seemed to have some
kind of homing devise that sought out the broken ones.
Pete was probably the most stable of them all, but then again, he probably
damaged her more than any of them. Pete hung with the wrong crowd but he
came across as better than the rest of them. He was gentler and treated Faye
with sensitivity and kindness. He appeared to be everything that Lenny was not
and she quickly fell in love with him and began to dream big dreams. Within
weeks she discovered that she was pregnant. [The pill was not readily available
to single women; especially teenage girls. No one knew much about
contraception at all, because no one outside of marriage was supposed to be
doing it.]
She had only just left school; she was in the lowest grade and failed most of her
exams so she only completed two years of high school. (Those two years had
been consumed with Lenny). She was aware that she would be pressured into
adopting out the baby and that she would be shamed and gossiped about.
Abortion was illegal, expensive and dangerous. In those days boys were usually
forced to do the right thing and marry the girl. I think she secretly thought that
that would make it all worth while and if anything, marrying Pete would be a
dream come true. Some wondered if perhaps she might have deliberately become
pregnant to snag him. She was desperate to be loved and taken care of, and
marriage might have given her the security and future she had always wanted.
When she told Pete he said “You’re F…ing kidding aren’t you? It’s not mine and
I have friends who will say they have all been through you. There is no way that
you’re tricking me into marriage and you won’t get a cent from me.” With that
he left town and she went home. Seven months later she cried her daughter into
the world on her own. She called her Kelli.
A small town can be a cruel place and one you can’t defend yourself against. No
one says anything that you can challenge or explain. It’s in the eyes, the looking
away or the subtle nod that says ‘You got what you deserve.’ You don’t hear
those whispers you just feel them. Kind condescension is also acidic.
Judgements aside, the loudest silent question was, ‘Why hasn’t she left town and
given that baby up for adoption?”
Faye was aware of the three sixes being painted on her forehead. Nice girls in
her situation left town to stay with an aunt in the country or to go to school in
the city. Social hypocrisy and Christian morality saw a boom in adoptions at the
time and it was just the ‘right thing’ to do. It wasn’t just the shame of it but also
the practical matter of no financial support and the greater adage of the time “No
man would ever take on another mans barstard.” You were actually referred to
as ‘used or damaged goods’ due to the deluded misconception that brides were
virgins.
Luckily for Faye she had developed a sense of not caring too much about the
opinions of others; or at least not allowing it to show. She had never had a lot of
approval or acceptance, so feeling stoned by the sinners only made her stronger.
As it turned out, the Government at that time changed history by introducing a
special benefit for single mothers. Every fortnight Faye would go down to the
local police station and sign off on a payment. It was humiliating but it gave her
the best chance she had of managing on her own. She rented a car garage which
had been converted into an apartment.
Jane, a friend of ours, and myself moved in with her. The rent was only ten
dollars per week. Faye and Kelli shared a partitioned room and Jane and I slept
on two single beds in the main room, which was also used as our lounge and
dining room. I remember it well as there were no mattresses or blankets. Our
clothes were used as bedding, so we didn’t need a wardrobe. Another partition
sectioned off a kitchen sink and a toilet. We loved it and some of the best times
of our lives were had in our little hovel. We were free and independent and that’s
all that mattered. The building was too small, but the yard was large, so we had
people over all of the time. It was probably the only place in town where
teenagers could hang out without parental supervision. There was always music
and laughter and in a strange sort of way we created an extended family.
We were a short walk to the beach so most of the guys who surfed would call
by our place. The fatherless baby had more male attention than any child could
ever have. Faye was surrounded by people who cared about her and the baby
bought her more love than she had ever imagined. She was a great mother; she
seemed to know what to do as a matter of instinct and common sense.
We went our separate ways, and when I left she had moved in with Ted who
appeared to love her and treated Kelli as his own. I heard later that he was on the
dole, smoking a lot of dope and had taken to beating up Faye. Over the years I
heard similar stories; different names and occasional remarks about her drinking
and pot smoking.
Time and distance moved us in different directions, but the biggest distance was
more about who we were, rather than where we were. We make our choices
and play the hands we are dealt. I don’t really know if it’s about right or wrong,
good or bad or just pathways to destinies. I do feel certain sadness about her and
wish things had been better, but who is to know? Every life is interesting and
challenging and I often wonder if we are all just searching for ways to heal our
wounds. I don’t need to analyse or explain her, nor do I wish to judge her or fix
her.
I am looking forward to seeing her. She was my first best friend and that to me
is a sacred space within me.
Sonya Green 2008
not sure you have picked up and said hello. She kept saying Sonya at the same
time I was saying hello. Sonya, Sonya. Ya there? My name seemed unable to
find its way around her tongue and came out sounding like shronYA.
Maaaate,’t’s me, Fayeeee. Ya there?
Faye. The voice made sense now; too many cigarettes, stoned at dawn and
drunk before noon; a lifelong search for love in all the wrong places, and a ticket
to no way out of here. The journey back to her father’s rejection, just led her to
the violent abuses of other broken people. Not smart enough to be angry or
strong enough to fight back, but willing enough to bow down and plead for
kindness or mercy.
I had been planning a trip back home and had already decided I would drive the
extra hours to catch up with Faye. The co-incidence of her call was not lost on
me and when we started talking, forty years disappeared, and we were jumping
up and down like school-girls. We spoke quickly and kept interrupting each other
as we excitedly tried to fill in the years and tell our stories to someone who once
cared.
The last time I saw her, I didn’t recognise her. Her face then was like her voice
now; it told her story. Ironically, it was her voice that I recognized the day I
found her sitting alone in a coffee shop, twenty years ago. I recognised the
voice, but it took time to find a photograph in my memory to match it. Long
seconds passed as I reconciled the wizened face with the beautiful face in my
mind.
See looked so old and frail. Her dull, home-hacked hair gave the impression of
dust and cobwebs. Her laugh sounded like a sinister crackle, but I knew she was
happy to see me. She caught my look of disbelief and explained her black eye
and swollen lip were her parting gifts from Billy. Billy, I noted my contempt.
Little, bloody Billy Watts; a small boy when he was fifteen, but intimidating to
everyone except Faye. He was a part of the gang known as the Shark Beach
Animals; word around town was that they would rape any girl who said no. I
suspected that Billy was only accepted by the group because of his wit and
willingness to procure and assist. He wasn’t cool within his own right, although
he managed to fake it some of the time, by imitating the others. I think his height
bothered him but he acted like it didn’t matter by joking about it and acting
tough. I was left alone with him once and had to fight him off when he wouldn’t
let me out of a car.
Faye was really beautiful and popular back then; she could have had anyone, but
her low self esteem lied to her about who she was. These days the Shark Beach
Animals would be considered to be the scum of the earth; losers and criminals.
Back then though, times were very different and to many teenage girls, including
Faye, they were dangerously attractive.
Earlier on, Faye had developed a giant crush on a boy named Pete and ended up
being dumped by him after giving birth to his daughter; she was just sixteen. He
was classier than the rest and I hear he came from a good family. I think he
enjoyed the Animal scene more from teenage rebellion, rather than by natural
inclination. I think he acted like one of the boys when he was with the boys, but
he treated Faye like she was something special when they were alone; not special
enough to admit paternity though or to even tell his parents about it. Not special
enough to ask after her or the baby or help out financially or otherwise. In fact,
he took off and never saw the baby. Faye never saw him again, but she loved
him for years and rehearsed what she would say to him when he came back -
another dream that never happened.
Faye was way out of Billy’s league, but he was a friend of Pete’s and for a long
time he accepted the role of ‘almost like a little brother’ to Faye. Long after Pete
had gone, Billy somehow managed to endear himself to Faye. He was making a
lot of money from selling dope, drove a fancy car, acted tough and looked out
for her and the kid. I think Faye thought he was looking after her- like her father
never did. Somehow the lines became blurred and the safety she needed to
believe in hid the danger she was actually in.
We lost touch when I moved west, but we always sent cards for birthdays and
Christmas. We still do. Somewhere along the way, she just ended up with Billy. I
remember an invitation to her wedding but I couldn’t get there. Billy had been
busted for growing dope and was looking at a few years in jail. She later
confided that she thought he only married her so she wouldn’t run off while he
was away or that he needed someone to visit him or bring him stuff. He was
already abusive and violent before the wedding, but she reasoned that it was only
because he was short and insecure. When he proposed, she asked if she could
have Stand by Me as their wedding song. He said no. For some reason, I felt
more disappointed with that than anything else; probably because I couldn’t bear
to think about anything else, I knew I would never understand it.
In the café she told me of her despair. She had been drunk and smashed the car
into a tree. When she told Billy, he beat her up and threw her out into the night. I
couldn’t get the whole story as it came in chunks and in no particular order.
What I could understand, is that she drank Bourbon for breakfast most days and
smoked dope like cigarettes. Her daughter mothered her and she did well at
school. No one in town liked her. She had been banned from most of the pubs
and had been asked not to show up at any of the school events. Billy hated her
and wanted her out, but she had no where to go. She had never had a job and
couldn’t imagine working for a living.
I was so angry and so shocked and disappointed. I wanted to rescue her and I
wanted to confront Billy; I wanted to hit him. Her face had transformed during
the conversation and she was thirteen again and ‘I was her best friend no matter
what’ as we used to promise each other. I was on holiday at the time and didn’t
need to be anywhere, so I agreed to go home with her, and take on Billy if
necessary, while she packed a bag. Faye and I had been rebellious and reckless
teenagers and back then we thought we were bloody tough and ‘didn’t take shit
from no-one’. In that moment, that’s who we became again, and I think we
both knew that if it came down to it, we really were that tough and we really
would get this sorted.
Faye knew that I had her back covered, and I knew that she was feeling more
powerful than she had in a long, long time.
When we pulled in, Billy was building something at the back of the house with a
couple of other guys. He looked surprised to see me and moved forward to say
hello. Faye came screaming from behind and kicked at his work, smashing and
scattering it across the grass. She was screeching like a wild animal and taking
swings at him. He tried to catch her arms and spoke softly and deliberately.
“Faye, don’t.” he kept saying. The others sighed and moved away, looking
helpless; there was something about the way they moved that suggested that they
knew how this would play out.
“Faye, Faye, let it go, just get your stuff and let’s get out of here.” I pleaded.
Initially, I thought she was purging out years of anger and pain. I knew that my
being there had given her courage, but she was merciless and hysterical and
nothing was going to calm her. I could see that Billy was struggling to calm her
down, walk away, protect and restrain himself.
I was completely thrown off balance when I realized that this was something
very different to what I had been expecting. No matter what Billy said or did and
no matter what I tried to do, she would not stop; she smashed things, slapped at
him and screamed abuse at him until her voice broke. It dawned on me that it
was Faye who was abusive and violent and quite obviously this was not an
unusual event. I actually felt that Billy might have to slap her to bring her back to
reality.
Apparently, Billy had rented a small flat in town and Faye had been living there
for months. I stayed with her for a few days and we talked long into the nights. I
learned that she had become an alcoholic and he was battling a drug addiction.
They seemed to own each other; each others prisoner and warden. Violence had
become their language. She talked about leaving him; getting sober and healthy.
She could get a job and her own place in another town…
She moved back in with Billy the day after I left, and stayed for another five
years. When he left her for another woman, she went on to find other Billy’s.
Actually, I shouldn’t be suggesting that Billy was responsible for Faye’s
problems. I’m sure it all goes back to the day her father took off and left her
mother with five daughters. She was a lovely woman and did an amazing job of
keeping them all going on a bit of a pension and part time work as a cleaner. The
girls had a lot of freedom and very little discipline or boundaries. They were all
very beautiful but also competitive with each other. Faye didn’t really have an
anchor in the family other than her older sister Liz. Liz was a wild child who had
left home at fifteen and travelled with a rock band. She was super cool,
stunningly beautiful and cold as ice. When Liz moved back home, Faye tried hard
to emulate her. Liz had guys worshipping her; she treated them mean and they
showered her in attention, gifts and good times. She chewed them up and spat
them out.
Faye felt inferior to Liz, but to my eye, Faye was definitely the more beautiful in
looks and the ways that mattered more. Liz had long blond hair which probably
caught your attention initially, but close up and feature for feature; Faye would
win any beauty competition. Liz was street smart and charismatic whereas Faye
was genuine and generous.
I first met Faye a few weeks before we both started high school. We were too
young to be hanging around the café strip at night, but my parents didn’t know
that I snuck out when they went to bed. She was sitting quietly outside the group
but a part of it just the same. She was watching and taking it all in, looking like
she belonged but not feeling that way inside. She looked like a black cat. She had
long glossy black hair and green almond shaped eyes which were exaggerated by
expertly applied eyeliner. Her heart-shaped face was golden-tanned and flawless.
Truly, she looked like cat woman. She wore a mini skirt not much longer than
the width of a thick belt, fishnet stockings and white boots. She took a swig of
Muscat from a bottle camouflaged in a brown paper bag, and drew a long breath
on a cigarette. She passed the bottle to me and smiled. I thought she was the
epitome of cool!
I found out she had just moved into a street a few blocks from where I lived.
The next day I called in and we spent the day sunbaking on the front lawn. She
had a portable record player and an LP of Abby Road. We played it over and
over until we realized that the sun had buckled it. Later we bought another copy
and to this day I have always kept a copy of Abby Road. That day we talked like
two explorers who had been separated and finally met up again. We exchanged
life stories like they were secrets that only we could know about. Her place
became mine and my place became hers; we did everything together. I loved her
and she loved me; in a way that only best girlfriends of a certain age will
understand.
We shared everything; we were like a living diary to each other. We talked and
compared our way through puberty, teased the boys, sang and danced,
hitchhiked along the beaches, took up smoking and drinking, and we shared
dreams and secrets and all of the tears and laughter that came with all of that.
People used to talk about us and judge us harshly. A lot of our behaviour was
affected to do just that; we wanted to wind them up, shock them out of their
sanctimonious little boxes. Not because we were mean but because it was fun
and funny.
When Gary Freeman took me parking I didn’t know what to do. I had a giant
crush on him and I wanted him to kiss me. I had only seen my parents kiss in a
hello goodbye kind of way. I was confused. I wanted to kiss like they did in the
movies. It seemed to me that a pash should last longer than my parents kisses
and that your head should move around in a circular motion. I hadn’t seen
enough of this kind of movie to really study it. I thought I would improvise and
made up a bit of a combination of both styles. I kept my lips together and kind of
moved my head from side to side. Gary asked me what I was doing and I was
mortified when he told be to go away and practise how to kiss.
When I told Faye what had happened she just said, “I’ll show you.” She gave me
my first real pash and we practised it until she said matter-of-factly, “Don’t
worry, you’re a great kisser.” We never kissed again and we never mentioned it
again.
I can’t remember where or how she met Lenny. She seemed so excited about
him; he was so good looking and he had a car. He was eighteen and she was
fourteen. She fell in love with him and I thought that he was a dickhead. He
introduced her to sex and drugs. For a while I was happy for her and she
confided everything he said and did. He was bad for her and made her feel
immature and stupid. He played head games with her and his possessiveness of
her and jealously of me had her torn between the two of us. Too often she was
too busy with Lenny and when we did catch up she was usually unhappy and
spent the whole time talking about how cruel he was and how much she loved
him. Bit by bit, he chipped away at her self esteem and she withdrew and
became nervy. He would show up off his face, drive recklessly, flirt with other
girls and stand her up. The worse he treated her the more desperately she tried to
please him.
He became infatuated with her sister Liz, who saw him as an opportunity to drive
her around and score dope for her. Sometimes Liz would sit with Lenny in the
front seat and Faye sat in the back watching them flirt and laugh with each other.
Lenny continued to have sex with Faye but it was Liz he really wanted. Faye
spent the best part of the year crying, drinking, getting stoned and falling apart.
Liz delighted in tormenting her by threatening to steal Lenny away.
It was Liz who told Faye that Lenny was dead. She didn’t know the details but
he had committed suicide. Faye was devastated; she was changed by it forever.
Liz later said to Faye that Lenny was a loser and that she deserved better. She
hinted that she wanted to break them up for Faye’s sake and that one day Faye
would thank her.
The boys at school acted crazy when Faye was around; most of them had a
crush on her. Men stared or whistled when ever she walked down the street. She
looked like a girl that had it all and she did an excellent job at faking it. The
classier men assumed she was out of their league because she looked right
through them. I don’t know how she picked them but she seemed to have some
kind of homing devise that sought out the broken ones.
Pete was probably the most stable of them all, but then again, he probably
damaged her more than any of them. Pete hung with the wrong crowd but he
came across as better than the rest of them. He was gentler and treated Faye
with sensitivity and kindness. He appeared to be everything that Lenny was not
and she quickly fell in love with him and began to dream big dreams. Within
weeks she discovered that she was pregnant. [The pill was not readily available
to single women; especially teenage girls. No one knew much about
contraception at all, because no one outside of marriage was supposed to be
doing it.]
She had only just left school; she was in the lowest grade and failed most of her
exams so she only completed two years of high school. (Those two years had
been consumed with Lenny). She was aware that she would be pressured into
adopting out the baby and that she would be shamed and gossiped about.
Abortion was illegal, expensive and dangerous. In those days boys were usually
forced to do the right thing and marry the girl. I think she secretly thought that
that would make it all worth while and if anything, marrying Pete would be a
dream come true. Some wondered if perhaps she might have deliberately become
pregnant to snag him. She was desperate to be loved and taken care of, and
marriage might have given her the security and future she had always wanted.
When she told Pete he said “You’re F…ing kidding aren’t you? It’s not mine and
I have friends who will say they have all been through you. There is no way that
you’re tricking me into marriage and you won’t get a cent from me.” With that
he left town and she went home. Seven months later she cried her daughter into
the world on her own. She called her Kelli.
A small town can be a cruel place and one you can’t defend yourself against. No
one says anything that you can challenge or explain. It’s in the eyes, the looking
away or the subtle nod that says ‘You got what you deserve.’ You don’t hear
those whispers you just feel them. Kind condescension is also acidic.
Judgements aside, the loudest silent question was, ‘Why hasn’t she left town and
given that baby up for adoption?”
Faye was aware of the three sixes being painted on her forehead. Nice girls in
her situation left town to stay with an aunt in the country or to go to school in
the city. Social hypocrisy and Christian morality saw a boom in adoptions at the
time and it was just the ‘right thing’ to do. It wasn’t just the shame of it but also
the practical matter of no financial support and the greater adage of the time “No
man would ever take on another mans barstard.” You were actually referred to
as ‘used or damaged goods’ due to the deluded misconception that brides were
virgins.
Luckily for Faye she had developed a sense of not caring too much about the
opinions of others; or at least not allowing it to show. She had never had a lot of
approval or acceptance, so feeling stoned by the sinners only made her stronger.
As it turned out, the Government at that time changed history by introducing a
special benefit for single mothers. Every fortnight Faye would go down to the
local police station and sign off on a payment. It was humiliating but it gave her
the best chance she had of managing on her own. She rented a car garage which
had been converted into an apartment.
Jane, a friend of ours, and myself moved in with her. The rent was only ten
dollars per week. Faye and Kelli shared a partitioned room and Jane and I slept
on two single beds in the main room, which was also used as our lounge and
dining room. I remember it well as there were no mattresses or blankets. Our
clothes were used as bedding, so we didn’t need a wardrobe. Another partition
sectioned off a kitchen sink and a toilet. We loved it and some of the best times
of our lives were had in our little hovel. We were free and independent and that’s
all that mattered. The building was too small, but the yard was large, so we had
people over all of the time. It was probably the only place in town where
teenagers could hang out without parental supervision. There was always music
and laughter and in a strange sort of way we created an extended family.
We were a short walk to the beach so most of the guys who surfed would call
by our place. The fatherless baby had more male attention than any child could
ever have. Faye was surrounded by people who cared about her and the baby
bought her more love than she had ever imagined. She was a great mother; she
seemed to know what to do as a matter of instinct and common sense.
We went our separate ways, and when I left she had moved in with Ted who
appeared to love her and treated Kelli as his own. I heard later that he was on the
dole, smoking a lot of dope and had taken to beating up Faye. Over the years I
heard similar stories; different names and occasional remarks about her drinking
and pot smoking.
Time and distance moved us in different directions, but the biggest distance was
more about who we were, rather than where we were. We make our choices
and play the hands we are dealt. I don’t really know if it’s about right or wrong,
good or bad or just pathways to destinies. I do feel certain sadness about her and
wish things had been better, but who is to know? Every life is interesting and
challenging and I often wonder if we are all just searching for ways to heal our
wounds. I don’t need to analyse or explain her, nor do I wish to judge her or fix
her.
I am looking forward to seeing her. She was my first best friend and that to me
is a sacred space within me.
Sonya Green 2008
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