Meri Sahaili

She is such the dynamic force, that her name whizzed round and round the neighborhood block days before I even caught a glance.

"She’s pretty and sophisticated", they said. "She’s mature and cool". "She’s from the CITY and knows all about real life."

Who was this mysterious gal that shook up our white-bread block in the burbs?

I am privileged to say that she is my friend and, one of the few I consider a hero.

She rode up on her pink Huffy sporting the confidence of a runway model, world knowledge that I thought was only scripted for movies, a beautiful smile and an edge that could kick any boy's beeeeehind.

She was tough and intimidating, I knew that shy ugly-duckling me would never have a chance to win her affection. Boy was I wrong and that would be the first of many times I would guess wrong about by dear, precious friend.

It was the summer between fifth and sixth grade. I was moving from elementary to middle school and carried every pubescent horror that accompanies that stage. I had big out-dated glasses, fashion styled by K-mart, a wash and comb hair do and oily, pimply skin. I lost my father to suicide earlier that year and my mother to depression/overtime work. I lost my religion and innocence, but had no one to share it with. Fifth grade memories torment me to this day. I wasn’t invited to birthday parties. The one party I was invited to was with the “dirty” girl and her cousin molested me in the middle of the night. The other friend I had was a confused cross dresser.

My dear doll face as she was later to so be named, did not seem to see any of these ugly-duckling qualities. She quickly befriended me and lured me out of my tortoise shell. Did she know the gift she gave me? Will she ever? We spent summer nights riding side by side round and round the block. The boys fell over dead vying for her attention, and there I was, her princess, her bridesmaid, her honored secret keeper.

So many things she said went straight over my naïve head. She was city girl and I was sheltered by the boundaries of the white-middle class ceiling. She knew I was bluffing when I pretended, but she never once made fun of me. She took me under her ever-powerful wings and delivered me to the doorstep of teenage-hood.

Days at the city pool were awkward. I would have to leave my expensive ear (hearing aid) at home and rely on the forces of loud children to guide me through the days. I kept my “problem” a secret and thought I was pretty good at my game. What I now realize is that my dearest doll face knew my deep, dark secret and took care to protect me, despite risking her stature as the “coolest” girl at the pool.

Doll face introduced me to boys, makeup, clothes, pop culture and the like. Although she was notorious for running off her mouth at her parents, she never expected me to do the same. When we decided we would sign up with modeling agencies and become world-famous teenage icons, her father said “yes”, my mother said “absolutely no and wipe off that make-up”. My dear doll face accepted my Mom’s orders and reassured me that I did indeed look more beautiful sans make up.

She introduced me to the depths of my soul. When we were old enough to drive, she would pick me up in her black camaro with tee-tops down and we would cruise winding country roads. Music blaring and stealing sideways glances and smiles all the way. We would pull up to the cemetery and sit at our favorite spot, the 30 foot cross.

There we would cry about our lost childhoods and the fathers that abandoned us. Her story is too deep and private to share. Now well into my adulthood, I realize that I never fully understood the impact of her childhood experience and never truly will. For this and the woman she now is; she is my hero.

She introduced me to drama and poetry and we braved all odds of “not being cool” by becoming thespians. That’s what always made her so cool; that she had the confidence to do whatever she pleased.

I was and still am so proud to have her by my side. When I lwas leaving for college, she showed up minutes before I was puling out of the driveway and she gave me a very dramatic goodbye and sent me “off” almost like a mother to child. Looking back, I now realize that she knew more than I that we were about to diverge paths and my leaving the block was symbolic of how our friendship had grown.

We kept in touch, but had very different paths as she was braving life in the Big Apple working with big music execs; I was safe in the confines of my little Ivy League tower.

She married and I was blessed to be a part of the princess’ fairytale. Not having found myself nor my mate, I went to parties and bad boyfriends. Sadly, we drifted.

Recently we reconnected and I was so very honored that she found her way to my wedding (purple hair and all!). I still regret that I didn’t have a traditional wedding party in which to adorn her as a beautiful bridesmaid that she deserved to be.

But, now with the distance and the few and far-between conversations we have, I feel closer to her than ever and cherish her as a great, great friend.

My dear doll face, I am so sorry that you had to learn about the news of my next chapter in life through such a place as My Space. I hope that you forgive me for not calling you sooner; it’s just that I was unsure how to break the news that I had stepped out of the “club” so to speak and wanted to be sure that it was the right time and place.

Thank you for leading me to womanhood and standing by me through thick and thin. Thank you for sharing your inner self, it honors me more than you will ever know. Please let me return the favor any time you need to call on me, I’m here doll face.