I did not see that coming.

We were good friends. Some people thought we were best friends. I never did. We worked together in the leadership of developing an organization to provide shelter and case work for abused women. It was 1979 and spouse abuse was an active concern among feminists and most of the community as a whole. Ellen was president of the non-profit; I was chair of fundraising. We worked closely together for about ten years on the family violence project and other endeavors promoting women’s equality. She and her husband decided not to have children. My husband and I had three. Ellen enjoyed our children and helped with caring for them when we needed help. Ellen and I, though, began to drift apart – me with my child rearing and volunteering at the kids’ school and her with her political marketing firm that did direct mailings and phone banks. Unexpectedly, one day I learned that Ellen and her husband had moved back to Texas to be near her brothers and their families. “Oh,” I remember thinking. “That’s a little hurtful. She didn’t even say good-bye.”

About fifteen years later, I was at a social gathering, a reunion of sorts, of the women who’d worked on the spouse abuse project. Ellen’s company’s co-owner Marlisa said brightly, “Let’s call Ellen in Austin and have a phone visit while we’re together. I think she has hurt feelings sinch y’all fell out after having been best friends.”

“What make you say Ellen and I were best friends?”

“Well, you were. Everybody knew it.”

“I didn’t,” I said after a minute. I was taken aback.

Marlisa called Ellen and handed the phone to me.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“Hurt my feelings?!” Ellen exclaimed. “You broke my heart.”

Now I was taken aback in spades. She went on to state adamantly that I needn’t ask for her forgiveness. “I don’t believe in forgiveness.” That door closed not with a bang but with a solid thud that said it would not open again.

I’ve realized that my drift out of my relationship with Ellen started not with the differences in our life choices. It started when she’d shown me a direct mailing that was going out on behalf of a candidate for office. I pointed out that the envelope looked like correspondence from the government and said I thought that was misleading. She said that’s what it’s meant to do so people will open it which is the first step to getting people to read it. The disappointment I felt was palpable. This smacked of used car salesmen using any ploy to get people to the lot. No doubt I continued pulling away until my breach of our friendship became unforgiveable. My only thought now is more’s the pity for her to harden her heart toward me and how many others.

— Marmar