Just Like Me, Part 2

Even though Sandy Wikowski was my best friend for years, I only have one photograph of her. It's a "Bonus Photo Exclusive with Film Service by Hite Photo" and it's from June 1977. The two of us are standing in front of my house. I’m wearing my white communion dress, white veil, white knee socks, white patten leather shoes and I'm clutching the little plastic purse that has a rosary, scapula and prayer book inside. Sandy’s wearing peach-colored, bell-bottom floods and an earth-tone, striped blouse. I'm a few inches taller even though I'm a year younger (I think?) but we both have straight, sun-bleached,light brown hair with the cowlick on the left side of the forehead and big, brown freckles on our noses.

Sandy lived 11 houses away, on the opposite side of the street. Our friendship was one that could have only flourished in the 1970s suburbs where moms didn't have to make phone calls to set up play dates. All the neighborhood kids just gathered on someone's front lawn every day to play Statue Maker and Red Rover. Best friends would drift off together to do thing like melt plastic army men in the Easy Bake oven and play lost orphan girls.

It’s amazing how much fun kids can have on patches of lawn, squares of sidewalk and driveways. We must have sang the theme to The Monkees a thousand times and perfected that synchronized walk. We choreographed elaborate roller-skating routines to Captain and Tennille Love Will Keep Us Together. Sandy’s voice was nasal and I couldn't carry a tune, we both sang loud.

Sandy's mom worked in a bar and told the kids to call her "Sue." My mom worked in an office and told me little girls did not call grown-up ladies by their first names. Luckily, I didn't often have to call Sue anything. She wasn't around very often and when she was, she was usually sleeping. Sue worked at a bar and didn’t always come up with after school baby sitters for Sandy. When she did, it was most often Donald, Sandy’s 15 year old cousin. Donald smoked, always had red-rimmed eyes and took girls into the bedroom. He told us that Sue paid him with beer. Although Sandy spent a lot of time at our house, I was not allowed to spend time inside hers: we could play outside on the front lawn but not play in the house.

Sue eventually married a man named Dell and soon there was a little brother and Sandy was the babysitter. We both started making friends at our different schools and grew apart. One day in 6th grade, Sandy's driveway was filled with police cars and an ambulance: Dell had put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Sue and the little brother stayed in the house down the street but Sandy's real Dad came and took her to live at his house. I didn’t see or hear from her again. Even up to high school I thought about stopping by to see if Sue would pass along my phone number or a message, but I never did.