House of Deej

Once upon a time in a land far away I had a friend that was hugely different from anyone I'd ever known.

We met through a club thing we both belonged to. I was playing the role of young wife and mommy, she was trying to figure out how to fit into her role as a second wife and stepmother. Neither of us belonged in the group of prissy socialite women we were surrounded by.

I didn't want to play "keep up the the Jones" games. She'd never been a part of anything like them.

Her world had been vastly different than mine. Certainly, my childhood hadn't been perfect but it was tame in comparison to her own.

Shari grew up in a world of sexual abuse and neglect. She was taken away from her family and placed in a foster home while she was a small child. Group homes dominated her teenage years. Life wasn't kind to her at all. Her bright spot came in the way of a young daughter that she adored.

To support this baby, she did something very few of us would never dream of doing. She was a call girl. She wasn't a streetwalking, back alley hooker. Her looks and body helped her from resorting to that part of the world's oldest profession. She was expensive.

Even so, she wasn't happy.

She met a guy who promised to take her away from it all and give her the normalcy she'd only seen in movies; she jumped at the chance. We met a few months after their marriage; I was the only person she trusted with the secret of her background. We both knew if word got out things could, and probably would, become terrible for her.

The bridge-playing snobs we were both surrounded by would have been mortified. Her hubby loved the "keep up with the Jones" game; she was his beautiful, trophy wife.

I bailed from the crew. I didn't fit in and my hub couldn't stand them either. It was easy for me to walk away. She had to keep playing the game to pacify her hubby. In her mind, he'd helped her fulfill all her dreams.

Things got ugly for her when his true side began to rear its ugly head. Suddenly, Mr. Perfect was an abusive asshole who insisted on controlling every aspect of her life.

Our friendship began to become strained as I watched more and more of her personality draining from her. She ran to me when he beat her up, but she wouldn't file charges or leave him. He despised me for giving her a place to be safe. She was being pulled in two different directions.

He was cheating on her. I knew. Everyone knew - except for her.

Years later after they divorced, she asked me why I never told her. I said "I couldn't. He would have denied it and said I was making up lies to make you angry with him. He would have convinced you it wasn't true. You'd have believed him and been angry with me. He'd have used that as an excuse to keep you from calling me when or if you needed me. I decided that the best thing I could do for you was to just wait until you found out and to be there to help you pick up the pieces when you needed me most."

She paused, contemplated that, and eventually said that is probably what would have happened.

As time went on, we went our separate ways. We no longer lived in the same town, there was no such thing as email, long distance calls were expensive, and she was in another city trying to rebuild her life. Calls became less frequent until one day I realized it had been ages since we'd spoken.

I tried to call her, but her number was disconnected. A friend told me she'd remarried, but couldn't recall Shari's new last name.

All I could do was hope she was happy somewhere out there.

Last night my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number. I answered.

She found me.

She'd done the "friend of a friend of a friend of a friend" circle until she found someone we both knew that still kept in touch with me.

We talked and talked. Time flew by faster than I could imagine it would. Today we talked again.

She is happy, and I'm happy she found a way to reach me.

Peace