Two months later
November, 1980

 

 

Fred and I wrote each other letters, often two or three times a week at first, but as the weeks and then the months went by, they became less and less frequent, at least his letters did. I think he realized that we probably wouldn’t see each other again, and soon his letters stopped altogether.

In his last letter to me, he told me something I’ll never forget. He said,

“I’m doing well in school—not only in my classes—but in my interactions with the kids. I’ve made a few good friends, and no one teases me about my stutter. In fact, I hardly ever stutter anymore, and I have you to thank for it. It was your friendship and kindness that helped me overcome the anxiety I used to feel when speaking. You accepted me and liked me for who I was, not for how I talked. I will never forget that, Abby. And I will never forget you.”

I was so touched by that, and it made me feel wonderful that I had had such a profoundly positive effect on someone else’s life. But then he stopped writing. I continued to write him, but I never heard from him again. I felt abandoned and a little betrayed, like maybe he was one of the “cool kids” now and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he were to have met me now. I know that’s silly, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

I also envied the fact that he was making friends because I wasn’t. I just never really connected with any other kids after Fred left. The girls, especially, tended to avoid me—which was better than teasing me—and the boys, it felt like, were a bit intimidated by me. They seemed to think I was some kind of brainiac—certainly a nerd.

I’d have to say that my best friend now, besides the humans in my family, is my cat Lester. He’s the only one I can talk to or confide in. True, he doesn’t talk back, but he loves it when I talk to him. He will lie on my bed and purr while I scratch his head and back and tell him about my day.

As far as skating went, I continued taking individual lessons, but my heart wasn’t in it the same way it was when Fred was part of my life. I never really looked for another ice dancing partner, and just as Fred had slipped out of my life, ice skating began to slip away as well.