… astronomically expensive. We’re talking $15 for a single funnel cake and $8 for a lemonade. She proceeds to order an absolute feast for her and her two boys—giant turkey legs, fries, multiple drinks, and deep-fried Oreos. When the cashier gives the total, which was well over $80 just for her family’s portion, she just steps back and looks at me expectantly.
I swallowed my annoyance, tapped my card, and reminded her to just Venmo me for her half.
“Of course, girl! Soon as we get to the car,” she promised.
We finish eating, and the kids want to go play the carnival games. I tell her that I’ve hit my budget for the day and we’re just going to stick to the rides we already paid for. Suddenly, her oldest son runs up begging to play the balloon dart game to win a huge plush bear. It’s $20 a try. She tells him no, but he keeps begging. Exasperated, she reaches into her oversized tote bag to grab her phone to distract him, unzips a side pocket, and out falls… her wallet.
The exact wallet she claimed she left in her car.
It hits the pavement, popping open, and I can literally see a thick stack of cash and her debit cards inside. She freezes, quickly scooping it up, her face turning bright red.
“I thought you left that in the car?” I asked, keeping my voice as calm as possible.
She stammered, “Oh, wow, I guess it was buried in here the whole time! Silly me.”
“Great,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Since you have your cards, you can just Venmo me right now, or you can just hand me the cash for the passes and the food.”
She actually had the audacity to roll her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. You know things are tight with my separation, and you and your husband are doing so well. I thought this was supposed to be a treat for us since we’re reconnecting.”
I was floored. A treat? I never once offered to fund her family’s entire weekend, let alone be treated like a sugar daddy on a playdate. I looked at her, grabbed my son’s hand, and said, “I’m a mother and your friend, not an ATM. We’re leaving.”
I walked away, took my son to get some ice cream on the way home just the two of us, and blocked her number the second we pulled into our driveway. Sometimes friendships are left in the past for a very good reason.
