Natalie

Adrian Monk is a memorable character. He is a man most find to be intolerable because of his countless quirks, phobias and idiosyncrasies. He suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), which can be excruciatingly frustrating.

But Mr. Monk has a special assistant, Natalie. At first, Natalie thought he was odd and strange and sometimes unbearable. She wondered if she could trust the man who suffered from hundreds of phobias. She wondered if he was dependable.

But Natalie has a good heart. She was able to look past the quirks, phobias and idiosyncrasies and understand Mr. Monk is a brilliant, sensitive man who is able to authoritatively function beneath the façade of phobias.

Natalie is also a memorable character. Mr. Monk is able to function with Natalie’s steady guidance. She is patient and kind, understanding and companionate, intelligent and independent, protective and assuring. She has an inner strength that compensates for Mr. Monk’s inner fears.

I admire Natalie because she reminds me of someone special in my life. She also has a good heart. She is patient and kind, understanding and companionate, intelligent and independent, protective and assuring. She has integrity and an inner strength I admire. I seek her opinions because I trust her judgment.

I do not possess the quirks, phobias and idiosyncrasies Mr. Monk is burdened with, even though my Natalie has on occasion said I am crazy, and I should be committed to an institution. There is some merit to her observation, but she says it with affection and humor, not with malice and we are able to laugh at that statement.

But there were times when I was unbearable and irritating and most people would have walked away, but my Natalie was patient because she understood that aspect of my personality, like bad thunderstorms, would pass.

My Natalie finds in me qualities that make up for the obstinate aspects of my behavior and she believes in our friendship.

It may have taken Mr. Monk some time to fully appreciate Natalie, but I immediately realized how important my Natalie is to me not long after I met her.

In contrast with Mr. Monk, I am able to function, but I cannot imagine my life without her. She is indispensable. Everyone should have a Natalie in their lives. I thank God I have a Natalie in my life.

Haunted By A Memory

I lived in Quebradillas, Puerto Rico from 1974 to 1979. It was so long ago; that it is beginning to feel like living there happened in another lifetime. Memories and people are starting to fade.

But there is one person I will never forget. Her name was Jeanette A. Her friends called her Jany. I met her in the sixth grade. I did not know it at the time, but she would become my best friend. We shared the same classes from the sixth grade through the ninth grade. In high school, she was placed in group 10-3. I was placed in group 10-4.

I did not really get to know her in the sixth grade, but we became better acquainted in the seventh grade. We drifted apart for a while, but our friendship grew stronger after the eighth grade. I moved to a new neighborhood. She lived across the street from my new address.

The seating arrangements in our classes helped develop our friendship. Jany sat in front of me in some classes, or I sat in front of her in others.

We also walked home together after school. We met in front of the school, walked up the street, cut through the Plaza, then walk past some small stores. We would arrive at my home first, and she would continue walking by herself to her house up the street. At some point, probably when we were in the ninth grade, I started walking her straight home. Sometimes we shared a soda, but we mostly talked and joked along the way home.

In the ninth grade, we started walking to school together in the mornings, sometimes with her neighbor. There were times when we met at the “Piratas” basketball game, sat together during the game, and walked home together.

There is a night that I remember during Las Fiestas Patronales. We bumped into each other, and spent the rest of the night walking around the plaza, and watched the bands perform and people dance.

Jany was an interesting young woman. She was an “A” student, loved sports, played volleyball, basketball and softball. Volleyball was her best sport. Sometimes Jany and her sisters would play volleyball in “El Caserio” and I joined them. I remember one of her sisters telling where to stand because it would help our defense.

Jany also played basketball. In junior high school, we played three on three half court games during our free period. We played on opposite teams and she usually guarded me. She was a great defender. I usually did not have much room to maneuver offensively. It did not help that I played carefully because I did not want to run her over. She was a good shot too.

One day the boys challenged the girls to a softball game. Jany played in the middle infield. I cannot remember where I was positioned, but I usually played right field or second base. The girls were winning in the early innings, but the boys asserted themselves, and we won the game. The details of the game are lost, but I do remember getting a couple of hits and hitting a line drive in Jany’s direction. Jany proved she was capable of swinging a bat.

Jany was also a singer. She performed in a quintet with two classmates, Joyce R and Maggie P, and two other girls. One afternoon, I was got the chance to watch them as they rehearsed on the roof of her home.

Jany also played the guitar and prided herself on being a good dancer.

Saying Jany was a teenage crush somehow minimizes the effect she had on me. She was the nicest person I met. She was quick to defend me when other boys picked on me, helped with schoolwork, and sometimes I helped her with English.

I had some rather unflattering nicknames classmates taunted me with, but Jany never uttered any of them.

But I was a mischievous young man and I enjoyed annoying people and Jany was not an exception. For example, I developed an obnoxious belching skill. I belched loudly and she called me “puerco.” Jany hated it, but I did not let that stop me.

I used to curse a lot. Imagine a small Puerto Rican child with the vocabulary of Samuel Jackson.

Jany was patient and tolerant. There were times when I acted like a jerk, but she did not resent me for it. She had a good heart and was willing to ignore my faults, but only to a certain extent.

Earlier this year, I was having dinner with a friend and we were talking about the past and some of the things we regret to have done and I mentioned Jany to Sandra and in a moment of clarity I talked about an incident, but from a new perspective.

Jany invited me to her 15th birthday. In Puerto Rican culture, a young woman’s 15th birthday is the equivalent an American girl’s 16th birthday. I told her that I did not have money to buy a gift and felt awkward showing up at a party empty handed, but she assured me that my presence at her party would be her present.

Later on, I asked if I could bring a friend. Jany was going to be the center of attention and would be unavailable for most of the night and I needed someone to talk to throughout the party. She gave me permission to bring a friend.

The birthday party was on October 14, 1978. It was held on the roof of her house. She greeted me at the entrance. She looked lovely. I introduced her to my friend and told her I felt bad because I did not get her a present, but she said my presence at the party was her birthday present.

I described the night to Sandra as we ate dinner, but the night was mostly a blur because I got drunk. Sandra was astonished that a 14 year old would be served drinks and allowed to get drunk at a party. I told her that drinking is part of our culture and heritage and it was not uncommon. Or maybe I’m rationalizing.

I do not remember making a scene. I did not get into any arguments and I did not get into any fights.

But there are two things I remember about that night. First, was the angry look on Jany’s face. Second, the bartender telling me I had enough. He gave me a glass of tomato juice and told me the juice would help me digest the alcohol in my system.

I finished describing the night to Sandra and in a moment of clarity said, “I lost my best friend that night.”

Our friendship was damaged that night. Jany never confronted me about it, but I was told she was mad at me. The friendly demeanor was gone. She did not smile when she saw me.

I was an arrogant ass then, so I did not believe I had to apologize. I equated defiance with independence and believed apologizing was a sign of weakness.

In 1979, I moved to New York City. The transition was rough and I soon regretted living in New York. My father remained in Puerto Rico and wanted us to return to Quebradillas, but my mother refused. In a letter, my father told me Jany sent her regards. I wrote back to him, and asked that he send my regards to her.

We were supposed to be in New York for our summer vacation. We planned to return, but circumstances changed and I never had the opportunity to say goodbye to a lot of people. I only have a black and white picture of some of my classmates in group 10-4. The only thing I have to remember Jany by is the ribbon she pinned on me the night of her 15th birthday. The number 15 is on the ribbon, and the inscription reads, “Rec de mis cumpleanos, Jany 10/14/78.”

I missed her terribly. She was a great friend and I loved her. She was a beautiful person, unique in her intelligence and beauty and her musical and athletic skills. I never got over not seeing her again.

On Facebook, I noticed my former high school classmates created a class of 1981 page. I joined the page and scrolled through their photo albums and found a picture of Jany with Miriam S and Magda M. I never thought I would ever see her again. I saw my best friend for the first time in over thirty years. She was just as I remembered her. I was overwhelmed and started to cry.

Sandra is my best friend and Sandra and Jany are similar in many ways. Both are patient, smart, attractive, funny, and their best features are their smiles and warm eyes. As I looked at Jany’s picture, I said to myself, “I wish you knew me the same way Sandra knows me now.”

I’m still an arrogant ass, but I am able to turn off, on demand, that aspect of my personality because I learned to appreciate someone I care about.

An individual participating in a 12 step recovery program apologizes for the wrongs inflicted on others. My affliction is arrogance and I let arrogance cloud my judgment. She may never know it, but I am truly sorry. I hate myself because I ruined her birthday party. Jany did not deserve that from a friend.

I am haunted by that night because I lost my best friend on October 14, 1978.