Game Night Gone Wrong

Mom and Dad often left my older sister, Sandy, in charge of me. This happened when they had friends to play cards or just to visit. This was often a recipe for disaster. We would stay upstairs, and we were supposed to keep quiet. Since this was usually on a Saturday night, Mom would do my hair before their company came. In those days, doing hair meant washing and setting it on rollers and drying under a bonnet hair dryer. The idea was that the hair do would last for church the next day. 

One Saturday evening, Mom and Dad had friends over to play Bridge. We had been cautioned to be good and not to interrupt unless it was really important. We were also supposed to take our baths and get ready for bed. The point was that we would be all set for Sunday morning. 

This particular evening, Sandy was feeling especially devious. She began running the bath water and pretended to be having a hard time telling the temperature of the water. She would turn it off and back on, and finally, in frustration, she called me over to the tub. She said she was having trouble telling if the water was the right temperature and asked me to step into the tub to see what I thought. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but I went ahead and stepped in. As soon as I was in the tub, she switched the shower on and drenched me from head to toe.

I was distraught and could have gladly ended her life that night. I jumped out of the tub and went screaming down the stairs for Mom. No clothes, no towel. I didn’t care. I was agitated. My hair, which was done painstakingly and over several hours, was completely ruined. It was drenched and hung straight as a board as I cried and threw a huge fit. 

Mom and Dad were not pleased. Sandy was laughing hysterically and thought this was the funniest thing she had ever seen. I can remember feeling angry and defeated. I knew we wouldn’t be able to redo my hair before church in the morning. I was angrier than I can ever remember being as a child.

I don’t remember who the guests were that night or how they reacted. I think Sandy got into big trouble, but for the life of me, I can’t remember what that meant. I should have known better than to trust Sandy.

Even today, as we read our writings to each other, Sandy is laughing maniacally. Looking back, I’d love to say I’ve forgiven Sandy completely, but every time she cackles about it, I reconsider. Some childhood betrayals are simply too legendary to forget. And if payback really is best served cold, well… let’s just say I’m still waiting for the perfect moment.

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