We all have one of these. Some of us have more than one. By which I mean, a friend who we may laugh with, cry with, work side by side with, but who we know way deep down in our gut, in the place where intuition lies, doesn't wish the best for us.

This friend may be a very good person in all sorts of ways. She may not even mean to hurt us. But hurt she does. So it went with Helen, my friend of 15 years.

One afternoon, Helen came by the house for a visit. She brought along a woman I didn't know. My son was having a big old toddler tantrum at the moment and I was delighted by the tantrum. He had been terribly ill as an infant and had very nearly died. I was all for normal toddler behavior. He was red-faced, screaming, stamping his little feet. Alive! Healthy!

As I scooped him up in my arms, I overheard Helen's companion ask her how old my boy was. And I caught Helen's reflection in a mirror as she mouthed: He's two, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. It was a dreadful moment -- a reckoning, a realization of her judgment, her lack of empathy. I called her on it, eventually. But what was there, really, to say? She apologized profusely. I accepted that apology, but I knew that things would never be the same between us.

Helen was part of my learning curve about who can be safely let into my inner circle. Lesson learned.