the Duchess Scores a Smile

When I was very young, maybe 10 years old, I ran into a girl at the softball park who was relatively mean to me in a polite, snide kind of way. I remember that event vividly as I do most of my interactions with this particular girl over my life. My father thought I was competitive with her, but you see, the Duchess may be neurotic, but she is not insane. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result and the thing is, this girl kicked my ass in every one on one we met. So, Daddy, I was not competitive because anyone with any sense of self-preservation would not compete with someone who is clearly better than you at everything. She was Melanie to my Scarlett.

Melanie was on my softball team and played first base. Scarlett played second base. Melanie was better at softball (the Duchess smirks as she remembers deliberately throwing the softball over her head in every warm up practice).

Melanie was on my cheerleading squad and was captain. Scarlett was just random cheerleader #8.

Melanie was on my track team and worked very hard. Scarlett ran track because it was often co-ed and the boys were cute.

Melanie was in every honors class and scored top Regents honors. Scarlett was in the honors classes but really wasn't interested in studying.

Melanie went to Syracuse University and was summa cum laude. Scarlett was cum laude because she still wasn't interested in studying (the Duchess shakes her head at her pride at winning a better scholarship than Melanie).

In addition to all this amazingness of Melanie, she is also perfect. She never says the wrong thing. She never makes anyone feel badly. She never drank, she never hooked up with boys, she was perfect. If they could give an award for perfection, she would have won it in addition to all the other awards she has won in her life. Scarlett laughs too loud, says things to people that really should never be said, kisses all sorts of boys, including boyfriends' best friends because she can. Scarlett is completely unperfect.

After Syracuse University, or some time during Syracuse University, I lost track of Melanie. I went to college to drink and hang out and have fun so I didn't really run into people at the library. I'm not even sure I know where the library is. Luckily I'm relatively smart and came out with a good gpa.

When I was home last week, I ran into Melanie's father who was bartending at my father's wedding. I said, "hey how's it going." He said, "fine." I said, "how's Melanie" (of course this isn't her name, but for privacy's sake...) and he said, "fine." I said, "what's she doing?" He said, "crunching numbers for GM." I said, "ah." I said, "didn't she get her Ph.D. at MIT?" He said, "no, she didn't finish the Ph.D. and she actually went to Minnesota." I said "oh." I said, "is she married?" He said, "no, she's never really dated anyone." I said, "oh, well tell her I said hey."

The adult in me feels nothing but mild interest at what has happened to Melanie. But the 10 year old girl who was treated meanly at the ballpark gives herself a high five. The Duchess walks away from the bar, thinking of the Ph.D. hanging on her wall and her trophy husband who loves her like crazy, grinning.