The best part about getting on the bus was Valerie. We both lived off Annapolis Road and she would join me at the very next bus stop. The bus picked me up first. I got settled into the same seat row we sat in together every day, and wave back at my mother and little sister, still standing at the white rock as the bus pulled away. I’d resume waving again as soon as I was in eyesight of Valerie’s house.
Valerie had her own VIP door just for her and her wheelchair that we nicknamed her Red Carpet. Once the door opened, we didn’t even wait for the chair lift to go down before we started in on everything that had happened since I had seen her yesterday. She got on the Red Carpet backwards, so her back was facing me as she floated up which made it hard to hear her own evening recap.
“What did you say?” I’d yell over the noise of the Red Carpet. She’d repeat herself but just when she’d get to the good part we’d be interrupted by adults securing Valerie’s chair. The Red Carpet would close, beeping loudly, making it impossible to hear every word. We continued our gossip this way every morning, never occurring to either of us to wait until the Red Carpet was closed to begin our banter. We didn’t mind repeating ourselves.
We’d tell each other “one last thing” the whole way into school until we parted ways to our different classrooms. Once we were dismissed, we’d fill the ride home showing each other the macaroni necklaces we had made and telling each other what our latest favorite color was until we made it to my driveway. I’d say goodbye the whole way down the bus aisle, down the steps, and through the open bus window where Valerie waved back at me. My mother and sister were right there to greet me and listen to me repeat all the details and stories I had just told Valerie.
Sometimes we rode our bikes to Valerie’s house, my mother, sister and I. They were incredibly special friends. My mother met Valerie’s mother after I told her all about my newest friend from school. The similarities were uncanny.
Valerie and I were the same age, in the same grade, and lived one house apart, just down the farm road from each other. Valerie’s brother was the exact same age as my little sister, and both my mother and Valerie’s mother were pregnant at that very moment. Both with twins. My mother would have two boys, and Valerie’s mom had twin girls, born within weeks of each other.
Valerie and I planned the future arranged double wedding. We decided to pair them off based on their names, alphabetically. When her twins married my twins, Valerie would become my sister.
Valerie and I preferred to play with puzzles and crayons. Her brother and my sister enjoyed more feral activities, such as setting the wood pile behind Valerie’s house on fire. Two kids successfully operating matches at three-years-old was both impressive, and a signal these specific little ones would need some extra supervision.
I was the one to snitch on them. Luckily it was before the house or soybean fields turned extra crispy, but they were not super happy about the extended time-out I had caused them. Still pregnant with the twins at this point, our mothers must have been worried. Soon, they would have more children than hands. It was going to take a village. A village with more resources than we had in Mt. Airy.
Photo by Todd Trapani
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