She didn't have a lot going for her as far as looks go
and she cried a lot, but she was one of the most beautiful people that I had
ever met. As a friend she made quite an impact on my life during the last years
of public school. In fact, she helped to develop my strong character and reinforced
an ability to stand up for what I believed in - to express myself verbally
saying what I wanted to say no matter what the consequences. Being able to do
that felt really good for a kid who knew what it was liked to be teased.
*Gilda* had a very severe type of acne that covered her entire
face, neck and likely continued down on her back and chest. Gilda's face was
covered with large purple welts almost like boils that looked really sore. Where
there were none, pock scars were left from where the acne had been in the past.
These were not pimples that could be cleared up with off-the-shelf acne meds - they
required intense medical treatments by skin specialists. Gilda always smelled
like medication and her nerves were frazzled from having to deal with school or
just being out in the public in general where she got rude stares or teasing.
I can't remember when Gilda developed her acne problem
but it must have started sometime around puberty. In grade five I had moved to
the small town where she lived and don’t remember much about her earlier other
than she was a shy kid with a sort of egg shaped head. This was made much more
noticeable by her very fine straight hair. Gilda’s hair became greasy very
easily probably from her meds and she wore it short with bangs in a page boy
style. She was not a heavy girl but long legged and gangly with a bigger chest than
the average kid at school.
Gilda didn't have a lot of friends and kept to herself
for the most part except for her younger sister and two younger brothers. They
were Dutch and her parents both worked locally. I got to know Gilda better through
sitting close to her at school. I think my desk was in front of hers and I was a
chatty student who was always getting in trouble for turning around in class to
talk. I guess I felt like we had something in common - her with her acne and me
with my fuzzy hair - something I got teased about all through school even when
I became more popular during my senior years. In grade seven we did a lot of
group study and projects for school that required teams so I had ended up
partnering with Gilda. This brought us closer together in the ‘out of the
school’ environment like the library or our houses after school and on weekends.
Gilda lived on the same side of town as me only I lived past
her on the farthest outskirts. We took up walking home together and often times
she would pass her own house to walk me halfway home because we were involved
in some sort of heavy discussion or having fun laughing. When Gilda was with me
she laughed all the time and I loved saying crazy, off-the-wall things or telling
stories to get her going. Sometimes she would be laughing so hard she would get
snorting and then I would be laughing at her. Gilda had lovely eyes with long
curling lashes that twinkled and got teary when she cracked up. I think it was
a stress release for her to laugh and I could always bring out her great sense
of humour.
Gilda loved music and had a portable ghetto blaster she
carried with her so we could listen to music as we walked and sometimes sing
along with the songs. She would tell me about her treatments and medications
and what it was like being a volunteer for experiments to try to get rid of the
acne. One time they actually sanded layers of skin off of her face to make the
pocks less noticeable. She got frequent needles, acid burns and so many things
that would be scary to anyone never mind a kid but she was willing to try
anything to make her face look better.
When she walked all the way to my place after school, Gilda
and I hung out in my bedroom or outside if the weather was nice. My sisters and
brothers got used to her looks but made comments when she left. I would defend
her asking how they would like to have bad acne or medical problems which usually
shut them up fairly quickly. The boys were bad but my dad was terrible. He
would ask me what I saw in Gilda and why I brought her to the house? My mom
would get very upset by this because she knew Gilda’s mom and how the girl was suffering
emotionally. I think my dad said cruel things about her because the look of her
bothered him and he thought I could get better friends but he didn’t bother to
get to know her - I hated that. In later years my dad actually developed a compassion
for people with problems in life who were misfits. He always gave them jobs or money
to help them out.
I didn’t dare let Gilda know what my dad thought about
her or it would have hurt her deeply. When I was at her place I was treated
with the utmost kindness and believe her parents appreciated our friendship knowing
that she was happier having my support and camaraderie at school and in life. I
stuck up for her when kids teased or said rude things. I can remember staying there
one time and her sister and brothers staring at me like it was a real rarity to
have overnight company. Her mom and dad were great and I later remained friends
with them both, having become good friends with another girl Marilyn, whose mom
worked with Gilda's mom. They were at her place socially all the time.
It is hard to be someone’s friend when you can’t shield
them from hurtful things. Thinking back, I deeply regret the time I was once
the cause of Gilda’s hurt quite by accident. It was during the summer following
grade seven and before we went back to school as "grown-ups" in grade
eight. There was an interest developing between boys and girls and some of us had
begun going steady, holding hands and taking the first steps towards more
serious relationships. That summer there were a lot of house parties in fact, we
all took turns having one. I was a popular kid because I took risks and said
what I wanted. People liked that boldness about me although I still got teased
to high heaven about my hair. Like Gilda, I was constantly trying experiments and
new products for this personal problem. Just when I would find something that
worked the humidity would come along and my hair would go all fuzzy again.
Anyway, one Friday night I talked Gilda into going to a
party with me. In the past she was either not invited or too leery to attend these
get-togethers always bowing out with some excuse about an appointment or
company coming to her house. At parties the lights were low and we sat around
eating chips and drinking pop - two things Gilda was not supposed to do because
of her face. We also listened to records and everyone brought their favs to
play. Gilda loved music and contributed to this as she had a good collection or
records. Something new at these boy/girl parties was playing spin the bottle
where everyone sat in a circle and took turns spinning – wherever the bottle stopped
the spinner had to go off with that person into a closet or behind a closed
door to kiss.
Having fun and caught up in the game that night I never
thought of poor Gilda sitting there worrying about what would happen should the
bottle point her way. She must have been paranoid never having kissed a boy before
or even held a boy's hand. Worse still, I didn’t think about the response of a
boy if his bottle pointed at her. I was totally not prepared for the reaction
that took place when one actually spun and got Gilda....when it happened all hell
broke loose. The boy jumped to his feet verbally refusing to kiss her. The
girls were shocked and the boys were snickering. I stood up and tried to force
the issue saying Gilda was the same as everyone else but that just made things
worse. Hurt and embarrassed, the poor girl broke into tears and wanted to go
home. I tried to console her but all she wanted to do was call her mother. It
was a disaster and I felt so badly for what happened I didn't quite know what
to do after she ran out the door sobbing when her mom pulled up.
Gilda was very cool towards me when I called her the next
day and we grew apart that summer. When we went back to school in the fall she
was ok but things were not the same as before and we were never really close
again. Grade eight was a year of changes for everyone. Kids were going through
puberty and finding their sexuality as they connected with each other on a more
intimate basis. There were more parties, booze and even some drugs entering the
scene.
Gilda and I remained friendly throughout that year still talking
and walking home together the odd time. She would listen to my stories about
boys and get quite a kick out of them. I had formed ties with different kids and
Gilda loved to hear about the messes we got into, wishing secretly that she
could be part of them. Then the next year after entering high school we lost
touch because I chose to go to school in another town for arts while she went
to the hometown high school and must have done ok. I heard she had lots of friends
there and went on to school in Toronto taking some sort of design course after
she graduated.
I was lucky enough to run into Gilda one more time after
she moved away to the city and realized she was happier than she had ever been
living in a small town. Exposed to the all the right sources for skin and hair
care, she was able to make major improvements with her acne and she found a guy
that loved her. They had become engaged before she suddenly died of an aneurism
around the age of 20. During that visit home I will always remember her proudly
walking up the Main Street with a mini skirt and a pair of wedgie sandals, arm
and arm with her man. She had confidence in herself and life and her parents beamed
when anyone asked about her! It was
through this unique friendship that I learned about inner beauty and have never
forgotten. Now I look for it in all people and always find it no matter what a
person looks or acts like.
* ‘Gilda’
is not the actual name of the person I have written about but she was a real
girl from my life.
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