Cruelty: What Friends Are For
Maybe it's an oldest child thing.
My fierce independence always gets in my way. It's probably the biggest challenge in my relationships with my family. It makes me loathe asking favors from friends, and hate accepting money from my parents (even when I'm sewing up the holes in my socks and existing solely on oatmeal and bulgur wheat). It's why I want my own apartment, even if it won't have internet or a shower, and it's why I leave my cell phone at home on purpose some days.
Not having a car could be a serious death blow to my independence. It sucks sometimes, but usually I don't care so much. It's much better now that it's warm outside, and I have no qualms about walking or biking to the store or to Em's house.
Tonight my lack of transportation "transported" me back to childhood, though. I sit angst-ridden on the couch, trying to hatch an escape plan. I'm ready to go home. It's 11:20, and far past my intended bedtime of 10:30. Sneaking out is the only option. Should I wait till Ben goes to sleep and hope she doesn't hear the door? Do I tell her that Ben's taking me home, and Ben that she is? I finally almost decide to just make a break for it--throw my backpack on my back and dash out the door--when she catches me wavering.
I know she won't let me walk home in the dark. I've finally overcome most of my fears of walking alone in Lincoln at night, at least in this part of town--or maybe I'm just feeling especially brave. I'd be more than happy to escort myself home on my own two feet, but Emily, my mother-in-residence, who's appointed herself the voice of reason in my life, won't have it. "Katie!" she scolds. "What about the big nasty men who will come up and--whap!--kidnap you!?"
Never mind my protests of the safe, old-lady-ridden neighborhoods through which my route will pass.
Never mind my cell phone in hand.
Never mind that I hate, hate, hate having to ask her to drive me home again--especially when I know that she's stressed and overwhelmed by homework.
She forces me to eat peanut-butter-chocolate ice cream with her, and cheerfully drives me home.
Some friends are just so cruel.
6 comments:
I think it is an oldest child thing. I totally identify with the tenacious defense of independence.
I would much rather walk to Wal-Mart or take the [gasp] public bus to downtown WW than ask someone for a ride. And if someone offers me a ride on the way to the grocery, there really is only one response: no, i'm rather enjoying the walk.
Oh how I empathize with contemplating the path of least dependence!
I suppose if I let myself think about it for long enough, I realize how retarded it is. I know no man is an island; it's just the part where I have to believe it that gives me trouble.
Anyhoo, enough rambling.
Peas.
I don't think it's an oldest child thing. Cause I've got that complex and I'm the youngest. I hate hate hate asking for help. I could be crying and you have a tissue box at your elbow, but I won't ask for one. I'll just sniffle away like a moron. (Cause it's so hard for you to take the tissue out of the box and hand it to me?) (Also, this scenario is taken from my real life.)
you are such a great writer! and by the way i didn´t email you cause you didn´t email me therefore it would take more work than just hitting the respond button and well the rest is history. i do love you though - hence you got a blog semi-dedicated to you. thanks for writing me though and i cannot wait to get more details and hash out all the events of our lives these past months in great, painstaking detail. you´re staying in Lincoln for the summer right? anytime i should avoid being there because you won´t be?
Okay, I don't want to hear it from you about me taking walks at night.
Be safe! You shouldn't walk that far by yourself late at night.
For real, for everything I said about not feeling bad for accepting help from your friends . . . I hate to do it myself . . . I'm trying to get better though . . .
I understand about the walking in the dark thing. About the being okay with it, that is. Maybe it's the fault of growing up in a small ND town, but I never thought it was a big deal to walk alone at night, even when I was in Lincoln. I also had friends there that kept me safe. Friends are good.
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