Cathy came running over to my house last week. Cathy lives four houses down from me, and once upon a time our families were extremely close... so close that we considered them part of our family.
Once a high-flying executive for one of the nation's largest auto manufacturers, she decided to stay home with her two children - switching roles with her husband Lou, who had been a disgruntled stay-at-home dad. That switch might have happened because Lou had had a fling and moved in temporarily with his other girlfriend... after reconciling, Cathy and Lou moved to Florida to get a fresh start.
Two more children joined the family. The stress of four children, her self-imposed isolation and unresolved emotional issues on both sides of the relationship have taken its toll on Cathy. Her expression is perpetually sour, as if she is smelling something bad.
Anyway, back to the visit. I was surprised to see her as we had not talked in about three years. That's because we had worked on a business deal with Lou, who ended up totally screwing us out of $1,400. As the dutiful wife, she defended her husband, even as his business fell apart due to a crack-smoking partner who embezzled thousands of dollars from Lou's business. Over the years, she has driven past my house thousands of times but refused to wave, resolutely sticking her nose in the air as she passed by.
"I wanted to let you know that Sarah Morgan's mom is trying to get in touch with you over some pictures she found on her daughter's phone and Myspace," Cathy said.
Yes, I had already seen them. Teens partying, taking pictures of themselves taking pictures in the car. And we had already disciplined our own 16-year-old daughter for the stupidity of 1. horsing around in a car taking pictures and 2. posting the pictures online.
But for Cathy, it was clearly about more than just photos. What is going on in her house, she shared, is half typical teen and half angry confused young man. Her 16-year-old son John, who has witnessed countless fights between his parents, some of which have involved scary acts of physical aggression, had just broken the front window of the house in a fit of rage. She looked alone, tired... and in need of reassurance that it was going to be okay.
For a brief moment, it was as though the past three years were washed away. It seemed like she was offering a glimpse into her window of pain as penance for the damage to our friendship. And I listened. Empathized. Validated her motherhood.
The entire conversation was maybe 15 minutes long. But in that short time I felt much of my anger dissolving. In the scheme of things, $1,400 is not a lot of money. I had spent the equivalent of at least that much in mental energy being angry about the situation. And frankly, what had upset me most was not the money - it was the feeling of betrayal and the loss of the relationship.
Yesterday I passed her as I was driving out of the neighborhood on my way to work.
She waved.
