Reunion Blues

PART ONE - NEW YORK CITY

I wake before dawn, alone in my bed. I reach over, old habits die hard, but there is no tousled head on the pillow beside me. Not even a slight indentation in the useless fucking thing.

I get out of bed and the memories wash over me.

We’d made love, then fought. She’d packed her bag and left.

Now the loft seems much bigger than it had seemed before, with her things gone. I’d wanted her gone, so what the hell is the matter with me.

Lonely. Yeah, lonely. She’d been here for eight months, and she’d become a part of my life, no matter the terrible time the eight months had been. Now, even though I am glad she’s gone away, I miss, not her, but her presence in the place. That house filling presence. The little comforts among the horrid fights. No question, I’m lonely. But I’ll get over it.

I walk through the vast loft, or at least it seems so to me this morning, to the kitchen and put on coffee. I pour myself a glass of fresh tangerine juice from the refrigerator, and take a vitamin pill from their container on the counter. I take the vitamin, and take a sip of the juice to wash the monster down. I walk out on my balcony, no one can see my nudity up here because of the height of the balcony’s solid guardrail, and drink my juice watching the city waken, the flood of humanity coursing up Broadway. The life’s blood of the city.

Back inside my kitchen, I wash my glass out and stick it in the dishwasher. I pour myself a cup of coffee and wander over to my dining table which almost spans the entire width of the loft and which has already been washed of the smells of her body. The scents she’d drained on it last night had seemed obscene in the early evening, so as she’d been packing, I’d been cleaning.

Yesterday’s mail is thrown carelessly onto the table. I finger through it. Bills, ads, a letter from Mom who is still located in my hometown in Southern California, which I set aside, and a letter from an old friend also with a return address of my hometown.

My god. I haven’t heard from Charlie since I’d sent a gift, some six or seven years ago, for his wedding. I remember he’d married one of the hometown girls but for the life of me, can’t remember who.

Although I’m curious about Charlie’s letter, I put it aside and open Mom’s letter first, which, as always, is full of news of people I’ve forgotten, or can’t place. She always does this to me. But, then a surprise, she tells me that my old friend, Charlie, had asked her for my address and she had gave it to him. Voila, the envelope from Charlie.

I put her letter back into her envelope and take up Charlie’s envelope in my hand.

I’ve no idea what to expect. We haven’t spoken in, oh, at least ten years, and although he was my best friend during high school, I’d sort of left all that behind when I went away to college, then come to New York to sell stocks, which I’m very good at.

Still, for some reason, perhaps to escape the crush of loneliness, or maybe just a wistfulness for those bygone days, I’m curious what this letter might contain.

I open the flap and pull out a rather formal invitation to my tenth highschool reunion. It shocks me for some reason. A handwritten note inside, I suppose in his script, says, ‘Hope you can cum.’

I laugh at his pun, then sit there with the envelope in my hand for the longest time, a kind of inherent wonder suffusing itself inside of me. It occurs to me that we’ve all grown up.

The reunion is to be held, of course, in my hometown, in two months. I have to smile.

I love New York, the byways, the my ways, the up town, the downtown, the in ways of it, and even the bad ways of it. The night life, the restaurants, the movies, the plays, the bars, the women. Ah yes, the women. Of course I haven’t had very good luck with women since I’ve been here. Been alone more than with.

And it’s summertime in New York, and despite the romance that brings to mind, it’s hot, and close and muggy. It’s going to get hotter, and muggier the next two months. It makes me remember the coolness of the west coast evenings. No matter how hot during the day, it was always cool at night. At least at the beach. You can always drive to the beach there. Or to the mountains for skiing during the winter months.

Okay, maybe not as good a restaurants, maybe the bars are not the same, neither as crowded or as noisy, and maybe I’ll hate it if I go back.

And Charlie? I’d left his friendship and everything else on that coast behind when I’d gone to school here, and then took a job here. A good job. Would the old town be the same? Would Charlie be the same?

It would be great to see Charlie again though. He was always a gutsy cut up. Maybe it would be fun. Who knows?

PART TWO: THE FIRST DAY

The reunion is supposed to encompass the entire weekend. There is a mixer Friday night. Saturday, there is a dinner, and dancing at the roadhouse. I have no one to take, so I won’t plan on dancing. And finally, on Sunday, there is going to be a baseball game and barbecue. I rent a car at the airport and drive home.

The family home is located on a hillside overlooking a ravine. On the other side of the ravine are other houses. My father had selected this place during its development because of its potential night lite view. As I drive up, I remember the old days. My father, who passed away a couple of years ago, would be sitting in his out rocker out on the porch, rocking and reading, when I'd get home from school. I miss him so much it leaves an empty feeling in my chest and a tear in my eye.

When I rush inside and my mother takes me into her arms, the sadness fades as fast as it had come. It is a bit nostalgic being back in my old room. It hasn't changed. Placing my bag on the bed, the memories come flooding back. I wonder what ever happened to Sally Landers. She’d been my first. We’d done it in this very bed while my parents were away on vacation. I’d thought we’d break the springs, but those old springs turned out to be made of studier stuff than our romance. No one had ever known about our fling except Sally and me.

My mother is truly a different person than most would expect. To give you a picture of her, I’ve never seen her when she was not wearing makeup. I’ve never seen her in flat shoes. I’ve never seen her in what one might call a house dress. In her early sixties, I was a late child, she goes to the club twice a week and hikes in the hills on weekend. She’s never been a beach person, I’ve never seen her in the sun without a hat, and if she were so inclined, an umbrella would shade her entire person. I’ve never seen her cry but for Dad’s funeral. Why she never took a beau, I don’t know. I’m sure she could get one if she wanted.

Mom quickly reminds me who Charlie's wife is. I remember her instantly from school. In her yearbook picture, she was pretty with slanted eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and laughing eyes. I also remember that she had no shape, a real bean pole with no tits and no ass. She must've changed a lot, because the way Mom describes her she doesn't sound like a bean pole anymore.

I try to envision Neoni all filled out and busty, but I can't.

When I’d gone to New York, I’d gotten rid of my California clothing. I never really expected to come back. Mom and I spent the afternoon clothes shopping for my reunion. We pick out a couple pairs of linen slacks, several shirts, and a Jay Ko jacket California clothing. As I got into my rental car to go to the mixer, I think I look good.

They'd leased an old movie theater for the mixer. I seem to attract a lot of attention when I walk into the theater and grab a beer from the open bar. Charlie appears to be the spokesman for the event, which doesn’t surprise me. He was always in the middle of everything going on. He makes a few jokes and then turns to me, and says it’s good of me to come all the way from New York for the occasion. Of course, everyone stares at me. I try to smile through the embarrassment, but I’m not use to this much up front attention. As a stock trader, I tend to be something of a recluse. I sell over the phone, so it’s just my computer, my phone, and me.

"Our boy, Brian, is here for the ball game on Sunday. The Two Terrors will play again!" Charlie leads the chant through the room. I'd forgotten about that. The Two Terrors. Embarrassing. But that’s what the other kid’s nicknamed us.

Someone yells, "Hear, hear!"

At last, the chanting ends and I surreptitiously look around the room. I nod to those I recognize or think I recognize and those who are staring at me. It feels strange being back, but it is still home. I don't recognize a lot of them, but on some level, they seem familiar. We probably don't have much in common any more, but I hope to renew a few old acquaintances at the ball game on Sunday.

I am standing there, wishing for Sunday to come, when I feel a small hand pull on my arm. I turn around and fall instantly in love.

"Hello, Brian," says the vision of loveliness.

Desperately trying to place her, I search my mind for something to say that is both smart and charming.

"Don't tell me," I say, smiling at her. "Don't say a word. I know you, but you've changed. For the better, I might add."

Then it hits me who she is and my heart sinks.

"I saw you talking to Charlie," she says. "Side by side, you two still look like twins. But, of course, you look better. Charlie still looks like a frump." She giggles. "I remember how truly amazed I was when I found out you and Charlie weren't brothers or cousins or something like."

"Neoni?" My mother had warned me, but I am floored by her beauty.

"Yes, It's me," she says with another heart-stopping smile.

I lean in and kiss her cheek. "Damn Lady, You are truly beautiful."

"Actually," she whispers, still close to me, "you don't look at all the same. Charlie does, though." She looks me up and down. What the hell, I'd been doing the same to her. "I love the way you look . . . "

"Compliments will get you anywhere," I say with a laugh.

"Oh?" She caresses the lapel of my jacket. "Nice jacket."

"Thank you."

"You work in New York City now, right?"

"Yes, I sell shares at the stock market."

Just then, Charlie puts his arm around me from behind and hugs me. Then he walks around beside me. "I see you two found each other," he says, his smile including both of us. It is like looking in a mirror and finding myself poorly dressed. Charlie had never had much sense of style.

"We were just getting to know each other, but it’s going to take some time before I get used to new her," I say, hoping he can't tell how much I lust after his wife.

Neoni laughs a tinkling laugh.

Charlie releases me and goes to his wife's side, putting his arm around her.

I can’t help thinking that they don’t look right together. They look so awkward together. With both of them facing me, I feel a little on display. As other people mingle around us, I sip my beer.

Charlie thanks me for the wonderful gift I'd sent them.

Since I can't remember what I'd sent, I just smile and sip more of my beer.

After a moment, Neoni pulls away from him and says, "I'm going to get a beer." She looks from Charlie to me. "You two want anything?"

"I'll take one, Honey," Charlie says.

I tell her I am all right with the beer I already have. What I really want is to take her into my arms and never let her leave me. But what can I do with my best friend, her husband, looking on?

I wonder if she has an adventurous soul. She is so sultry and so earthy, her figure a gorgeous 36C-26-35. She is tall with long, long legs. The curves never seem to end. Her long hair falls down the back of her shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. She has tiny feet and hands, her nails are painted in clear polish. She has beautiful almond-shaped eyes that seem to look right through you. I feel like she'd been looking through me all night, knowing my deepest secrets. I have it bad.

Distantly, I listen to Charlie talking about old times.

By the time Neoni returns with the two beers, Charlie has been distracted and is talking to one of the other couples. She pulls him aside and hands him his beer. She speaks to him for a few moments, then returns to me with a smile.

"I can’t get over how you’ve grown up, Girl. You are great. Want to marry me?” I’m wondering for a minute if I’m overstepping my bounds here. Do I feel any guilt? Not yet.

She gives me a shy smile. "Thank you, Brian." I am grateful she doesn’t add, "again."

She takes a sip of her beer and so do I.

"How long are you here for? Just the weekend?"

"I don't know for sure," I reply. "New York is dead in the summer, you know. Everyone's out of town to beat the heat. It gets very hot and muggy there. You spend most of your time running from building to building or from the subways to a cab. It's hell. At any rate, it wouldn't take much to keep me here for awhile. Depends on what’s happening."

She smiles and says, "Charlie and I want to invite you to dinner at our house. As a matter of fact, I was just trying to work out the time with him. Would Sunday evening when all this," she says, waving her delicate hand around the room, "is over be okay? About eight?"

"Sure. I'd like that, eight is fine," I say, smiling. "Have you two considered that all three of us might be so overstuffed after the barbecue that we can’t eat? Maybe we'll end up sitting around, staring at each other, too full to speak."

She smiles again and says, "You're probably right. But, do you still want to come?"

I nod. "You bet. I want to see where you live."

We both look around for Charlie, but he is talking with another group of people, further away from us now. He appears to be working his way around the room, his sole purpose to shake everyone's hand.

I ask, "Is he going into politics?"

"Not that I know of, but who knows," she says with a frown. [Please put the I in Italics]

I pick up something amiss but I can’t very well broach something I don’t understand.

"I'm going out to get some air," she says. "Will you forgive me?"

I nod even though I don't want her to go.

"For anything," I murmur as she walks away. Watching her receding back, I wonder if she'd heard me?

Charlie is still schmoozing with someone across the room, so I turn and follow her out into the night.

It is really beautiful outside, if a little cool. With the full moon overhead, it isn't as dark as it could have been. The wind is tantalizing and the air is crisp, suggesting a snowfall in the mountains later that night.

Neoni is leaning against a bus bench near the street. I pull my jacket close around me to ward off the cool air, one doesn’t get this evening chill on the east coast, and cross to where she is. I notice that she's pulled on a sweater herself.

She is facing away from me, but I guess she knew I'd come. "I'd hoped you wouldn't follow me," she says, her words almost lost on the breeze. As she turns to me, I watch her small, upturned nose swing into view and then disappear, because the moon is behind her now. The shadows even make it impossible to see her eyes.

"Why?" I ask.

"I can . . . " Hesitating, she looks down at her hands which are tightly clasped in front of her and then back up. "I can feel you . . . wanting me."

"I can see that," I say. "You should feel it, I mean. I'm sorry, but it's real."

"I don't want to feel it." Shaking her head, she walks back inside.

I stand there, feeling like I’m stepped on my pud.

Finally, I get control of myself and go back inside. I get another beer and sip it as I walk around. I avoid both of them as much as I can for the rest of the evening. It isn't that I really want to avoid her, but I don't know what to say to her. What can I follow my last move with? So, I avoid her. All evening, as I wander around, talking to this person and that, I never lose sight of her. She'd become the only reason I am here.

After a while, I find her with Charlie and make my excuses. They remind me about Sunday dinner.

I say I won't forget and leave.

PART THREE - THE SECOND DAY

Tonight is the big night. Dinner and dancing. I’ve dreamed all night of holding Neoni in my arms as we twirl and spin away from this place. As I said, I’ve got it bad.

I get out of bed the next morning needing coffee, bad. I find all old pair of jogging shorts, and several old shirts, which, to my amazement, still fit. I dress in them, put on my old tennis shoes and go down stairs.

Mom is waiting for me. She looks, as she always has, rested, and perfectly dressed. She pours me a cup of coffee and brings it to me.

"Good morning," I say, accepting it, and sipping.

I look up as she sits down across from me. "You were asleep last night when I got in."

"I don't stay up too late anymore. I need my beauty sleep, you know."

That’s a laugh. "Well, it sure has worked, lady.” I’m going jogging, to get out the kinks. What about us having lunch today?”

“Well,” she laughs, “I haven’t had a better offer.”

* * *

I take Mom downtown, to a nice restaurant. We’re sitting in a room that has water under the glass floor. I can’t help but look for fish.

As soon as we’re seated, I tell her I love her, and that I’m glad I’m here with her.

“I love you too, Brian.”

She smiles and sips on her iced tea.

“Have a good time last night?”

“Sort of.” I try to put a good spin on it, “tonight will probably be better. And the ball game on Sunday should be fun, too.”

The waiter refills our iced tea.

“So. Was Neoni there last night?” She asks.

I nod yes, sipping.

“What did you think of her? Isn’t she pretty?”

“Charlie’s a lucky man,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says, sipping. “He doesn’t know how lucky.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

She purses her lips as the waiter brings our lunch.

Mom waits until the waiter is gone.

“Well,” she says. “The way I understand it, he doesn’t appreciate her as he should, and she is a good wife to him. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like he treats her.”

I look up, chew, and swallow.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Mom.”

“He runs around on her, Brian.”

“You’re kidding, right? Charlie?”

“I'm not kidding. Not at all,” she says, staring me in the eye. She drinks from her tea glass.

I can’t believe this. But, I know Mom wouldn’t tell a lie about it. I don’t know what to think, but despite the inner turmoil I feel, I can’t help wondering if this means I have a chance with Neoni.

Then I find I’m not hungry. I put my fork down and don’t even notice when the waiter removes my plate.

* * *

The location of the second night's festivities is The Roadhouse, which is located just outside of town on the main road. I arrive about 45 minutes late, but not by design. I got a phone call from my ex in New York. She’s forgiven me my crass behavior she says. Naturally, here I am in a quandary about Neoni and my ex girlfriend wants to move back into my loft.

There is dinner and then dancing. After last night, and the information Mom had given me, I look forward to seeing Neoni and hope she is here. Despite my shyness, I hope for a dance or two, so I can hold her in my arms, just like in the dream. After all, how could she have felt my attraction if she wasn't attracted to me too, or am I way off base? Fooling myself. And if her husband my buddy, Charlie is cheating on her, she might be more open to me, right?

During dinner, I get stuck between two women who don't resemble at all the people I'd known in high school. The one on my left is now very heavy, but jolly. The one on my right is now the city librarian and swears I'd been to her birthday party when we were eight. I look around at the other tables and see Neoni sitting quietly as Charlie entertains the table were they are sitting. After dinner, a band gets up and starts playing. I dance one dance with the librarian and then fade away from both of the women. I hadn’t seen Neoni on the dance floor.