The Bernadettes

A True Story by Oliver Cassidy



When I was in grade school, everyone loved Joanne. She was a Britney Spears type - blonde, good dancer, natural sex appeal. Great basketball player too, oddly enough. All the lay-ups and jump shots and court drills helped mold her thighs into lethal pillars of adolescent distraction. Ah yes, those were the days.

Joanne had a friend named Bernadette. Bernadette was tall and kind and a bit shy. One of her legs was slightly shorter than the other so she walked with a limp. I vaguely remember her being teased.

Nowadays, at work, there's a young woman named Natasha who's caught the attention of the young guys. She's tall, from India, with wavy black hair and chocolate brown eyes. She dresses well in the inventive way of young girls without money. Her best friend at work is a goofy lanky blonde named Bernadette.

I remember the boys in school, myself included, befriending Bernadette #1 in the hopes of gaining access. I see the young guys at work befriending Bernadette #2 for the same reason. It's creepy to watch the salesmanship, the sickly sweet interest in #2's tales of college field hockey, her stories of Mel, her cat. It's sad to hear the meanness in the private jokes told afterwards. All for a shot at Natasha.

I often wonder what became of Bernadette #1. I hope she's well. I wish them both well.