Best Friends

This all started when we met almost a lifetime ago. We grew up in the same neighborhood, on the same block, three houses down from one another. Our parents were close because they moved into the neighborhood on the same day and were around the same age. It was safe to say, we would naturally be best friends, which eventually happened, in fifth grade. When this magical event took place, we were seniors in high school, both with full ride scholarships to the colleges of our choosing. Every summer we help the elderly couples in our neighborhood. During our summer before college, we united two people after a fifty-year misunderstanding, and gained much more than we bargained.

We were stuck at the hip. You never saw him without me and vice versa. Let’s just say this friendship was five stars, would recommend, get yourself one. This summer was going to be the last time I saw him until next summer. Although we decided to study the same thing, we chose different colleges for different experiences. That way, once we met up during the summers, we could exchange and compare notes, and any differences we would learn from one another. Since this was our last time together, we decided to use the entire summer to help our elderly neighbors clean up as our ways of saying good bye and doing some much-needed community service.

Our older neighbors were sweet couples, with exception of two people. Most have been together for years. When I say years, I mean decades and a couple of generations. Let’s take the Cox’s for example. They are both from the west indies, St. Lucia to be exact. They fell in love young, married young, moved to the states young, and haven’t been without each other for sixty years. The Jacksons, Wilsons, and McNeills are all the same. There is Mrs. Garvey, who is a widower whose husband died 5 years ago from dementia. She barely leaves her home, she keeps herself up, and although she smiles every time we see her, she still has sadness in her eyes. Then there is Mr. Mattison, who most of us young girls and young women in the neighborhood refer to as, “Sugar Zaddy.” That man is fione. He is definitely old enough to be my grandfather, but when my husband and I are his age, I want my husband to look like him.

Mr. Mattison’s marriage was the scandal of our neighborhood. It happened right around the time Mrs. Garvey’s husband died. His marriage ended 2 months after Mr. Joseph died. Mrs. Garvey never took her husband’s last name. I am not sure why and growing up it seemed weird, but the why was none of my business before this particular summer. Anyway, rumor had it that Mrs. Mattison engaged in an affair with a young man for a year, which Mr. Mattison knew about. He tried to make the marriage work, but one day Mrs. Mattison said she was going out for groceries and never returned. It was then Mr. Mattison decided to leave her alone and let the marriage die. I am not sure of the details of his divorce, but he found a way for her to sign uncontested and never looked back. He had been about bettering himself since then.

Mr. Mattison always lived life afterward. It was just on some days he had a sadness in his eyes that kind of matched Mrs. Garvey’s, which should have been a clue for my nosey self and I never paid the connection much attention. This day we were helping Mr. Mattison clean out his garage, which we thought would be with his assistance, but he told us he trusted us to clean up and just handed us his spare keys. He had a date. She was gorgeous. I was proud. He left us to do what we do best.

We started on the left side of the garage. It had the most boxes, which meant there was stuff throw away and to add to our yard sale. We knew we had full scholarships but we also knew we would need extra money. As he moved boxes around, I saw a beautiful large royal blue box trimmed with crystals, with the name Alvin etched on the top in silver letters. I was in awe over this large box. He kept telling me to put it back, but I am nosey. I was the nosey one out of the duo and would never leave well enough alone. I wanted to know what was inside. So, I opened the box. Inside the box were trinkets, pictures, letters, and a little black book. We looked at each other, then the snooping commenced.

We started with the photos. On one particular photo, there was a young Mr. Mattison with the same face and a familiar woman, standing next to each other in a warm embrace. I knew she looked familiar but I could not pinpoint her at first glance. On the back of the photo, were the initials MG and AM. There were many letters and we read a few, but my eyes were burning a hole in the little black book. The first page read, “This book belongs to Monifah Garvey and Alvin Mattison.” I instantly picked up the photo and saw that it was Mrs. Garvey’s face.

The book were all short letters between the two. The early letters seemed to be from junior high and the later ones ended junior year in high school. It seems they were best friends for years. They grew up in the same neighborhood in Montgomery, Alabama, got close in junior high and were inseparable by summer before high school. The last four letters told of an experience they shared, which turned into a miscommunication, which led to the dissolution of the friendship. I cried when I read what happened to them and I just knew, we just knew we had to get them back together again.

We finished cleaning the garage and as we were about to leave and lock up, Mr. Mattison was walking up the walk way and into the garage. He loved the cleanup job we did and praised us for getting rid of his ex-wife’s things. I handed him the box, being the person I was, and said to him we need to make things right. He took the box from my hands with a shocked bittersweet expression, which turned to sadness as he glanced at Mrs. Garvey sitting on the porch.

I grabbed Mr. Mattison’s hand, pulled him towards Mrs. Garvey’s house. He tried to stop me, but Mr. Mattison said to him, I need to do this. It has been forty years. So, he stopped and followed. When we reached Mrs. Garvey’s porch, Mr. Mattison spoke and asked if they could go inside and talk. We left that night and throughout the summer continued our cleaning services. We saw Mr. Mattison and Mrs. Garvey spending time with each other here and there but not often. By the end of the summer, we didn’t know the outcome, but we were still hopeful.

He and I had been in school for two months when I received a letter from Mr. Mattison. At the same time, he called me to ask if I received a letter from Mrs. Garvey. I told him I did not but I did receive one from Mr. Mattison. He said hurry and open it. There was a letter and a check for ten thousand dollars written out to me. He said he received the same from Mrs. Garvey. They explained the story of how in high school they were best friends who had done everything together. All of their firsts were with each other. The thing that killed their friendship were the feelings they refused to share after they lost their virginities to each other. They were confused about where the friendship should have gone. They realized after the night we walked Mr. Mattison to Mrs. Garvey’s home and they spoke, that they were afraid to venture into anything that would change their relationship. They knew now that nothing needed to change that they could have stayed just as they were. They’ve been together now for 10 years. And he and I have been together for one.