I wasn't afraid of the spiders, not that I wanted to push my luck or anything, but I rather enjoyed sitting on my bed by the window and watching the huge black and yellow arachnids spin their webs on the little porch adjoining our room. We lived in the west end of our current house in what had been the front part of Mother and Daddy's first home. That's why there was a porch.
Our room had been the living room of their house. This was the house that made the three mile trip on a truck to arrive here-the trip that almost made my dad have his first heart attack. That would come later.
Friends who visited from town didn't really enjoy watching the spinners like I did, and they exclaimed about the size of both the spiders, which were about 8 inches leg tip to leg tip, and the webs, which were easily 18 inches across. The insects usually attached their thread up in the corner of the porch and then stretched it to the support post.
"Don't worry," I told Janey one day when she refused to look at them through the large plate glass window in the door. "Daddy's going to close in this porch and make an alcove with a closet for us. He just hasn't had time."
"What's an alcove?" she asked.
"I don't know. I doubt my dad does either, but Mother told him to make one, and if she said it was a word, it is. Anyway, it'll be nice to have a closet. And to get rid of the spiders."
"Those spiders are creepy," Janey remarked. "I have never seen a spider that big!"
"Mother said they're not poisonous," I said, looking fondly in the direction of the bumblebee colored insects.
"She said they're just garden spiders and nothing to be afraid of," Jan piped up from where she was sitting on the twin bed across the room.
"Well, I couldn't sleep at night knowing they're right outside the window," Janey said, shuddering slightly.
"Let's make some fudge," she said suddenly.
"Okay," I said, taking off for the kitchen, Janey running right behind me.
Jan hopped off the bed to follow, running down the hall, through the living room, leaping like a deer as she reached the big picture window, checking out her image in the reflection from the glass.
Susan heard us rattling the metal pans and came in to help. Somewhere between pouring the sugar into the old heavy metal pan we alway used, a former pressure cooker, and testing the candy to the soft ball stage, Janey got miffed at me.
I wasn't sure if it was because I called her a baby for being afraid of the spiders, or because I threatened to push her out on the porch to get to know them better, but she left the room for a few minutes while we stirred the sugar and cocoa, inhaling the pleasant aroma.
We had poured the dark sauce into four bowls and were waiting impatiently for it to cool, when we heard a car honk out front. Before we knew what was happening, Janey grabbed two of the bowls of fudge and ran from the kitchen and out the front door to the waiting car. I doubt she told her mother what had transpired--her part or mine.
"What's wrong with her?" Susan asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I have no idea," I answered offhandedly. "She's a big baby. She's spoiled. And she is scared of everything. I'm not gonna ask her over anymore. I just hope she doesn't talk bad about me to her mother."
"She's mad because we didn't let her pour the cocoa in the pan," Jan offered with authority, but I thought that seemed too simple.
"Oh, well. I think the fudge is ready." Susan slid the silverware drawer out, retrieving three spoons. "Want some? We only have two bowls for the three of us now," she said, laughing a little. "We'll have to split this one into two."
We ate the gooey stuff, and drank milk until we felt sick.
Susan was apparently still perplexed about Janey's departure, which was not troubling me at all.
"Good riddance," I thought.
"Why do you think she called her mother? Did you do something, say something?"
Really, I didn't want to take the blame for this. She wasn't my type of friend anyway, so the fact that she ended it was better than my having to make up excuses why she wasn't invited over or why I couldn't go to her house.
"I just don't really know," I said nonchalantly. "Maybe she doesn't like the moss in the bathwater."
At that, we all burst out laughing.
Janey's mother never called and squealed on me if Janey told her anything. And when I saw Janey at Robert Earl's store with her grandmother, she just looked at me with a weak smile, waved halfheartedly and said "Hi."
I said "hi" back, but I didn't try to make small talk. It was better this way. We just knew her because she visited her grandmother who had wanted us to be friends because she "thought we were nice girls" per Janey. I wondered what her grandmother thought now.
I had never thought we'd be close friends, and it was awkward not to ask her why she left, but Susan told me I should "leave it alone--please". And I promised her I would not ask Janey further about it. That day at the store I almost asked for our bowls back because we'd have to get some more at Safeway, but then I remembered the look Susan had given me and it wasn't hard not to ask.
A few months later, Daddy and some of the men from the gin took in the porch and made a closet and an alcove with bookshelves. No more spiders.
But I didn't think the changed look of our bedroom would have salvaged my friendship with Janey, not really. I think our chances for sustaining a longterm friendship were about as likely as one of those big "porch webs" surviving a tornado.
Bye bye spiders. Bye bye Janey.
Our room had been the living room of their house. This was the house that made the three mile trip on a truck to arrive here-the trip that almost made my dad have his first heart attack. That would come later.
Friends who visited from town didn't really enjoy watching the spinners like I did, and they exclaimed about the size of both the spiders, which were about 8 inches leg tip to leg tip, and the webs, which were easily 18 inches across. The insects usually attached their thread up in the corner of the porch and then stretched it to the support post.
"Don't worry," I told Janey one day when she refused to look at them through the large plate glass window in the door. "Daddy's going to close in this porch and make an alcove with a closet for us. He just hasn't had time."
"What's an alcove?" she asked.
"I don't know. I doubt my dad does either, but Mother told him to make one, and if she said it was a word, it is. Anyway, it'll be nice to have a closet. And to get rid of the spiders."
"Those spiders are creepy," Janey remarked. "I have never seen a spider that big!"
"Mother said they're not poisonous," I said, looking fondly in the direction of the bumblebee colored insects.
"She said they're just garden spiders and nothing to be afraid of," Jan piped up from where she was sitting on the twin bed across the room.
"Well, I couldn't sleep at night knowing they're right outside the window," Janey said, shuddering slightly.
"Let's make some fudge," she said suddenly.
"Okay," I said, taking off for the kitchen, Janey running right behind me.
Jan hopped off the bed to follow, running down the hall, through the living room, leaping like a deer as she reached the big picture window, checking out her image in the reflection from the glass.
Susan heard us rattling the metal pans and came in to help. Somewhere between pouring the sugar into the old heavy metal pan we alway used, a former pressure cooker, and testing the candy to the soft ball stage, Janey got miffed at me.
I wasn't sure if it was because I called her a baby for being afraid of the spiders, or because I threatened to push her out on the porch to get to know them better, but she left the room for a few minutes while we stirred the sugar and cocoa, inhaling the pleasant aroma.
We had poured the dark sauce into four bowls and were waiting impatiently for it to cool, when we heard a car honk out front. Before we knew what was happening, Janey grabbed two of the bowls of fudge and ran from the kitchen and out the front door to the waiting car. I doubt she told her mother what had transpired--her part or mine.
"What's wrong with her?" Susan asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I have no idea," I answered offhandedly. "She's a big baby. She's spoiled. And she is scared of everything. I'm not gonna ask her over anymore. I just hope she doesn't talk bad about me to her mother."
"She's mad because we didn't let her pour the cocoa in the pan," Jan offered with authority, but I thought that seemed too simple.
"Oh, well. I think the fudge is ready." Susan slid the silverware drawer out, retrieving three spoons. "Want some? We only have two bowls for the three of us now," she said, laughing a little. "We'll have to split this one into two."
We ate the gooey stuff, and drank milk until we felt sick.
Susan was apparently still perplexed about Janey's departure, which was not troubling me at all.
"Good riddance," I thought.
"Why do you think she called her mother? Did you do something, say something?"
Really, I didn't want to take the blame for this. She wasn't my type of friend anyway, so the fact that she ended it was better than my having to make up excuses why she wasn't invited over or why I couldn't go to her house.
"I just don't really know," I said nonchalantly. "Maybe she doesn't like the moss in the bathwater."
At that, we all burst out laughing.
Janey's mother never called and squealed on me if Janey told her anything. And when I saw Janey at Robert Earl's store with her grandmother, she just looked at me with a weak smile, waved halfheartedly and said "Hi."
I said "hi" back, but I didn't try to make small talk. It was better this way. We just knew her because she visited her grandmother who had wanted us to be friends because she "thought we were nice girls" per Janey. I wondered what her grandmother thought now.
I had never thought we'd be close friends, and it was awkward not to ask her why she left, but Susan told me I should "leave it alone--please". And I promised her I would not ask Janey further about it. That day at the store I almost asked for our bowls back because we'd have to get some more at Safeway, but then I remembered the look Susan had given me and it wasn't hard not to ask.
A few months later, Daddy and some of the men from the gin took in the porch and made a closet and an alcove with bookshelves. No more spiders.
But I didn't think the changed look of our bedroom would have salvaged my friendship with Janey, not really. I think our chances for sustaining a longterm friendship were about as likely as one of those big "porch webs" surviving a tornado.
Bye bye spiders. Bye bye Janey.
