The First Blonde

Cheryl, Julie and I stood on the curb in front of Cheryl’s house. I was probably eight years old which would make my sister Julie twelve, and our friend Cheryl, ten. The conversation Julie and Cheryl were having was based on the preconceived notion that each of us would eventually be a blonde.

“Cheryl,” Julie began, “I think you’ll be the last to turn blond because your hair is the darkest.”

“You’re probably right,” Cheryl agreed. “Jill will probably be first because her hair is the lightest. She’s kinda blond now.” (At the time, I had dark blond hair. Julie and Cheryl were referring to a much lighter shade of blond than mine.)

I rarely had anything insightful to add to Julie’s and Cheryl’s conversations, so I rarely spoke, as was the case here. I remained silent. I wondered, though, why brown-haired girls thought they were eventually going to be blond. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want Julie and Cheryl rolling their eyes at me like I was a dumb little kid. I knew they thought it already.

By the way Julie and Cheryl are talking, it sounds as though they both really want to be blond. Why? (At the time, I doubt any of us had heard the saying, “Blondes have more fun.”)

It doesn’t matter. Why question a good thing? I was going to be blond first! I don’t care whether or not I’m ever blond, the thought that I might actually be first in anything is fantastic news. Cheryl lives down the street from us and the three of us have played together for as long as I can remember. Because I am the youngest of the three, I never get to be first at anything. We play Barbies together a lot. Julie’s Barbie is always the first to have a party. Cheryl’s Barbie always has the second party. By the time it’s finally my Barbie’s turn to have a party, Julie and Cheryl are bored playing Barbies and quit. But all of that doesn’t matter now. I am going to be the first one of us to be blond!

— — —

Eight years pass and I’m a sophomore in high school. I haven’t seen Cheryl for ages. We had stopped playing together around the time Cheryl started junior high.

It’s September, and I’m at home alone one afternoon when the doorbell rings.

I open the door to a short, blond, high school-aged girl. I can tell she’s selling something, so I’m guarded. I don’t want to buy anything.

“Hi, Jill!” The stranger greets me. Who is she? How does she know my name? I wrack my brain trying to place her. She doesn’t look at all familiar. She continues, “I’m selling wrapping paper to support the Arlington High School’s athletic program and thought I’d start with a house that I knew.”

I smile slightly in pretend understanding. She asks me how I’ve been; I say fine. I ask her how school is; she says she likes it. I listen to the girl’s spiel on wrapping paper. We’re too far along now for me to ask her who she is. It would be awkward and would make us both feel uncomfortable. Okay, you’re right. It would make me feel uncomfortable. But you’ve been in this same type of situation before too, haven’t you?

I know I’m not being very friendly to this stranger who knows me. I’m too busy trying to figure out who she is. Who is she? I interrupt her when she begins describing the gift boxes that are also for sale by suggesting that she come back when my mom is home.

Immediately after I shut the door, ending our encounter, I feel terrible. She must think I’m so rude.

There had been something kind of familiar about her face, but I have no idea whom she is or how she knows me.

A few minutes pass. My brain is churning, trying to access archived memories that may include the girl at the door. And then, it hits me. Cheryl. The blond girl at the door was my brown-haired childhood friend and neighbor, Cheryl! Cheryl is a blonde! Of course I didn’t recognize her. Her once long, brown hair is now the color of honey.

To recap: Julie and Cheryl were both wrong about who would be blond first. When we were kids, I don’t think any of us considered the possibility that one would or could color her hair. Cheryl was the first of us to be blond.

Unfortunately for me, I again, was not first.

As it turns out, Julie and I both ended up being blond. (I’m not sure whether Cheryl is currently a blonde or brunette.) So, all those years ago, though they got the order wrong, Julie and Cheryl were pretty right-on in assuming we’d all be blond one day.