1. Be kind to your friend without regard for punishment or reward.
When they arrive at the nightclub to see Leon's band, Gladys's ignorance is not exactly blissful. She feels the simmering tension in Betty, and when Betty snaps at her over her "hep" comment, Gladys knows she's doing something wrong. She just has no idea what.
And then Betty sends her off to buy drinks, like she's just the little rich girl again, like that's all she'll ever be, and Gladys's heart sinks.
But she keeps up her best I'm-up-for-it smile, laughing off Betty's jabs and sipping her drink. When they walk over to see the band, Betty seems to—if possible—get in an even worse funk. Gladys could swear she hears real fear in that voice when Betty's talking about Kate leaving. Gladys laughs it off at first—she's developed a habit of it tonight—but when Betty doesn't look at her and says, "What do you know about anything," Gladys doesn't take it as just another jab.
With Betty's eyes locked on Kate, Gladys has a moment to study her face, and what she sees is not what she expects.
2. Allow nothing about your friend to shock you.
Growing up among the elite, Gladys is intimately acquainted with the appearances of envy. Every party the Withams hold is rife with the evil eye, one woman sending envious glares at another over whatever she has on her arm—fur stole, boy toy, or diamond tennis bracelet.
As she watches Betty, she knows without a doubt that Betty does not want what Kate has. She wants Kate.
It doesn't shock her, or even surprise her. Instead, it feels like a cluster of puzzle pieces in her mind finally falling into place, like a lot of things have just begun to make sense. And her next thought is, What is my role here? The answer is immediate: To be a good friend to Betty. To be a good friend to Kate.
She starts by offering her coded approval: "You're lucky to have such a good friend."
3. Recognize your flaws, and strive to right them.
Gladys, like many children of incredibly wealthy grocery barons in 1940s Toronto, has learned to keep the peace by allowing herself to be swept by the current. "Yes, Mother," was a daily refrain, from assuring she dresses appropriately for tea, to assuring she will have a man pinned down "in time," to assuring that she won't speak up or make a spectacle of herself for any reason.
Her first hard right turn came when she left the safety of the factory office to work on the floor. It was meant to be the first of many risks, of a new life where she did what she wanted, not what her mother or father wanted.
Then she met the girls. And she's so, so happy they've accepted her. But she hasn't been socialized, not in the way of public schools and playing in the streets. She hasn't grown up with girl friends, aside from Carol, who distinctly does not count.
So she's flying by the seat of her pants, and the road is not free of bumps.
4. When you are afraid your friend is bound toward peril, speak up.
For the most part, Gladys finds herself once again allowing the current to take her where it will; she doesn't want to upset her friends, so she rarely brings herself to argue with them.
But when Betty starts dating Ivan, she has to say something. Aren't you leading him on?
It could have gone better.
5. When your friend is determined to meet her peril, stand down.
Gladys steps back; she can't say she understands why Betty is doing what she's doing, but she knows determination and desperation when she sees it. The best thing she can do now is to stay silent and firm at Betty's back.
When Betty appears pale and shaken at Gladys's door, there is no triumph in it. No I told you so. Only grief for what Betty has lost.
6. When your friend has met her peril, comfort her without reserve.
She runs a hot bath and would leave Betty to it if she didn't grab her arm and stop her from leaving. Betty's hands are shaking too much to unbutton her clothes, so Gladys does it for her, and helps her into the bath. She kneels on the floor at its side, folding her arms on the edge of the tub and resting her chin on top of them.
There, safe, Betty begins to cry, and Gladys can only reach out to stroke her hair, feeling the pain as keenly as if it were her own heart.
7. When things get worse, and then worse again, forgive yourself as readily as you forgive her.
After Gladys's world implodes, she doesn't see much outside herself for a while. She is raw and the blades of grass seem to have turned to knives.
Just as she is starting to get her feet back under her, Betty is attacked, and Gladys cries herself to sleep once more, sobbing over the injustice of the world and over her failure to save her best friend from such a fate.
She understands, now, more than she ever could have before, why Betty said what she did to Gladys about Ivan. Gladys sees it all too clearly now, and she sobs over the fact that Betty will never be truly safe, over the fact that Gladys herself has not only a well-funded life, but one where she will always have a measure of protection from that kind of fate.
She cries the tears of a broken heart, because she finally understands Betty's circumstances.
In the morning, she will do what she does best: Stand tall and brave at Betty's side, protect her back, and love her fiercely.
8. If you can do nothing else, love her. As the world is ending, love your friend.
When Gladys stands up in court and promises to pay Betty and Kate's bond, it never crosses her mind that Betty might feel that she owes Gladys.
Gladys is the one living a charmed life; she didn't earn it and she doesn't deserve it.
Betty, on the other hand, has fought her way up, taking every painstaking step to stand now as far as she is from the farm. She deserves a break. To save her from spending the night in jail is the least, the literal absolute least that Gladys can do.
But Betty doesn't see it that way.
Even though Gladys has done the only thing she could do, it feels as if she has failed.
Men are simple. Men she can charm as easily as she slips on her shoes every morning.
Friendship is harder. Friendship sometimes seems almost impossible.
But she will try again tomorrow.