The Fine Line
| August 23, 2016
Photo: Shutterstock
H
ere I was finally participating as a Rina camper (post-ninth-graders in camp) for the past four days. Yitty my sworn BFF and I had enthusiastically counted down to field day and I was having an amazing time —– until this shocking moment.
What was going on? Yitty had always been an extra-mile friend and was not the back-stabbing type. I couldn’t believe I heard (fine overheard) Yitty telling a tenth-grade camper “Shany complains all day. It’s so annoying!” Hit: 1 000 points!
My brain fired siding with my hurting heart to provide logical backup. To think that I had come to Raninu because Yitty thought it was the coolest camp….
Who was this anonymous tenth-grader anyway who had to inspect my flaws twist my skin inside out brush my heart with her germinated toothbrush?
Yitty turned and for a second her eyes raked me. Her face grew radishes. I had wanted her to notice me; I was waiting for an apology.
“Oh Shany!” Yitty said.
I caught the other kid making a neat getaway.
“Are you going to the lunchroom? I mean um yeah!” Yitty blabbered. “I’m coming with you. By the way I think... today’s Sunday? Devory’s visiting today. No wait it’s Tuesday. Anything wrong with me?”
“Anything righ—” I wouldn’t let myself slip. Two wrongs don’t make a right.
During lunch I acted normal but it was an act because my inner feelings needed to be calmed.
What a faker! I always trusted her we’re forever together our bond was tight mutual.
The more out of breath my thoughts became the more I discovered flaws in my friend. I dredged up Yitty’s old sins from a mysterious pit. Sins that were never sins before.
I knew my weakness but I felt wounded to have it rolling from Yitty’s mouth to a stranger.
I was wallowing in a tornado of my best friend’s betrayal. One small act had caused a wreck.
I wasn’t swimming two hours later whereas Yitty and most of my bunkmates were splashing in the blue.
To get my frustrations out I did something silly that I later regretted between twenty and thirty times. I spoke (okay maybe not really) about my feelings.
I wrote to my sister Freidy all sorts of things about camp and then penned my disappointment in Yitty. In great gory detail.
Did you ever convince yourself that lashon hara is only a problem when verbal? Let me assure you that writing is no better.
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