Sleepover

A memory

I’m sure everyone has that moment of awakening when they first discover their friends’ homes are nothing like their own. To a child, the idea of a best friend eating a different breakfast in the morning can be mind-blowing.

It can be devastating when what has been your “normal” suddenly gets examined by those who have a different normal. Call it innocence or naïveté but I was stunned when my best friend found staying over for the night at my house “too much” and had to go home.

Lorren and I had been friends for years by this point, I had played with her every day at school and we were around 7 years old when she first invited me to stay. The attic of their cozy bungalow had been converted into a huge bedroom that Lorren shared with her little sister. To me it was an explosion of toys and chaos, their mother choosing to quietly close the door and leave them to it.

I shared a bedroom with my sister too. But mine was five years older than me and has always been more the temperament who makes their bed every morning without fail.

I was in awe. But I said nothing, I just went along with it.

Sleeping on the floor was uncomfortable and I found the spinning nightlight shadows distracting rather than helpful for going to sleep. But I did eventually drift off and it was considered a “successful” sleep over. I, of course, wanted to return the favour and have Lorren stay over at my house.

The necessary arrangements were made between our parents and I spent days in anticipation arranging my toys and teddies, imagining the time when I would get to show them off. I planned out exactly how the evening would progress. A 1950’s housewife hosting her husband’s boss for a dinner party would have been less prepared than I was.

The weekend of the sleepover arrived. and I was annoyingly excited, in the way only small girls can be. When Lorren arrived, I bounced to the door. But Lorren didn’t join in with my enthusiasm. She clung to her mum, teddy under one arm, and cast a suspicious eye around our hallway.

Undeterred, I left the adults exchanging pleasantries and dragged a reluctant Lorren upstairs to the room I shared with my sister.

The two single beds stood either side of an invisible line between my sister’s belongings and my own. Lorren began to relax, toys and playing where her forte.

I was delighted. Until Lorren started to go off script. She got out all the boardgames but moved on to the next before we had even finished setting up the game. This was irritating but I let it slide.

Then she proceeded to go through all of the cupboards like a blonde tornado, scattering the contents far and wide. Sooner than I could have believed possible, the entire room was beyond recognition. The carpet was replaced by a sea of plastic and plush. I sat on the island of my bed and beheld the magnitude of the mess. It had even spilled over the invisible line and my sister’s dominion was equally devastated.

My stomach churned. It had been less than an hour.

We were called downstairs, for cartoons, then dinner and as we were discussing the sleeping arrangements, I knew I’d have to mention the state of the bedroom. It would need a bulldozer to clear enough space for Lorren to sleep.

That was when she started to cry.

Within twenty minutes, Lorren’s wails disappeared down the road as her mother drove off. I was left bewildered and disappointed. Why did she leave? Was my house so terrible that she couldn’t stand being there another moment? And what about the mess?

I soon discovered I was to be held solely accountable. The injustice burned hot within me, but my sister’s wrath had to be aimed somewhere, and Lorren had abandoned me.

Thankfully my mother kindly aided me in the clean up, but as I cleared away the toys that were un-played with and disregarded my disappointment turned into anger. I did not yet have the vocabulary for the feelings of betrayal and resentment, but they stayed with me until the Monday morning. I was determined to have it out with Lorren. Explain that our friendship was over in the melodramatic ways of the preteens.

It didn’t work that way. Lorren bounced up to me as if nothing had happened. And my words failed me.

I thought back to my sleep over at her house and realised that her behaviour at mine was normal for her. That was exactly how she kept her room, that she saw no fault in her actions. My view of the world grew a little. We stayed friends, but I never invited her to stay again.