But then I remembered the cold. Not the temperature of the home, but the coldness of its inhabitants.
I was barely ten years of age when Aunt Sissy brought me to Barry Park. She’d felt sorry for me, or so it had seemed. Coming from a poorer family, I’d never known such beauty, in art, in music, in fashion, and I was duly impressed when I arrived at the immense home that belonged to Mr.Randolph Barry, Matt’s father.
On meeting the large and loud man, I’d quickly developed a dislike of him. He was arrogant and finicky and all around unpleasant. But what I disliked the most was the way he looked upon me, the way he might look at a crumpled and soiled tissue on the ground.
But when I then met his thirteen-year-old daughter, Britney, Matt’s older sister, I felt certain she and I would be lifelong friends.
She was so pretty, so fashionable, so sociable and so incredibly high spirited, I was instantly drawn to her. I’d thought she’d be the perfect counterpart to my quiet reserved persuasion.
How wrong I’d been. How totally and disastrously wrong. Britney had, within my first three hours at Barry Park, shown herself to be spoiled, and shallow.
If her father had looked upon me as he would a soiled tissue, she seemed gleefully prepared to kick that tissue into the gutter.
“So, you are Darling Douglas,” she’d said on seeing me. “Darling. What a silly name for such a plain girl. There’s absolutely nothingdarlingabout you.”
“No,” I’d said, hoping to appease her. “I don’t have pretty hair like you do, nor do I have such a clear complexion.”
She’d laughed. “A sewer rat has a nicer appearance than you do.” She looked me up and down, an eerie grin coming to her lips. “Come. I may as well show you around. Surely you have no idea how to get around such a large and beautiful home, do you?”
She’d taken me to her bedroom, a room as large as my entire family home. How could one child require so much space?
In showing me around her room, it became clear that her greatest pride came from the garments in her closet.
“This dress is by Cartier,” she said, showing me the pretty dress. “At a thousand dollars, it’s not the most expensive dress...and it is really sexy. Then I have this one, a Chanel...almost two thousand dollars. It’s not all that sexy, but it’s so classy; the boys love it. And this is my favorite...Ralph Lauren. My dad hates this halter dress, but I absolutely love it. Jordan, this really cute guy in my class, can’t stop looking at me when I wear this.”
She looked at me suddenly, a look of complete surprise in her eyes. “Oh. Look at me going on and on about all these designers. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“I’ve heard of Chanel before.”
“Oh! Really?”she let out with mock surprise. “What would you say is Coco’s biggest contribution tohaute couture? That’s French for high fashion.”
“Coco?”I said, wondering what that was.
“Yeah,” she said dismissively. “That’s what I thought. You really have no idea who Coco Chanel is.”
“I’m only ten years old,” I said in my defense.
“That’s a lame excuse. I mean, I’ve known Coco, Ralph, Yves and Pierre since, like, forever.”
“Are you going to be a fashion designer when you grow up?”
She hadn’t bothered to answer me but had gone on to show off her numerous possessions; jewelry, shoes, fancy bags. She then moved on to the furniture of her room, her knickknacks, her entertainment system and anything else that she could point out.
Listening to her, I’d realized how completely bereft of any type of achievement she was. There were no impressive school grades, no talent of any kind, no ambition for her future.
If there was to be any achievement at all, at the tender age of thirteen, it was simply in her ability to get a boy’s attention.
Despite her snooty ways, I wanted more than anything to befriend her.I tried everything I could think of to please her. For days...weeks even, I did her bidding and followed her around like a forlorn puppy. I fetched whatever she wanted. I cleaned what she had soiled. I made myself available to any games she might want to play. I felt certain that my easy disposition would eventually please her.
And it did, but not in the way I had hoped. No. I quickly became the butt of her jokes. I, lowly little Darling, served only to make the beautiful Britney Barry feel superior.
My memories of Matt’s older brother, Kenneth, were a little more pleasant. Though I’d not spent much time with him, I knew him to be a quiet and sensitive artist who showed no interest at all in his father’s business.
A full five years older than I was, fifteen-year-old Kenneth had little to say to little, ten-year-old me. He was always polite, kind and flawlessly courteous, but that was the extent of our relationship.
But Matt, being only four months older than I was, proved to be my equal in mind and status. He liked the same music as I did and watched the same shows as I did. He’d even read several of my favorite books. Quiet and introspective, he was always ready to listen to me and allow me to share my feelings. He never looked down on me. He never belittled or mocked me.
He never made me feel less than.
