The Reunion 22

This is a fictitious take on an event that actually happened. Names were changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent...

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The Reunion

As time goes by we all get older and our pasts manage to catch up with up. Mine was no different, in the form of a letter. The Greater Reunion Company had tracked me down (thanks, mom and dad!) and sent me notification of my high school's 20 year reunion and asked if I was interested in attending. I thought about it and decided to go, and sent all the information and a check for $225 for the event and the hotel that had the convention center we were going to be at for 2 nights. Things were a lot different now.

The day of the event arrived and I was ready. I had on my black suit, Harley Davidson boots, leather wristbands (the ones without spikes), and the bandana with my band's logo on it in white letters, "Conscious Nightmare". Sure it violated the dress code set forth in the letter, but I could get away with it. After all, I'm a rock star, right?

I arrived at the convention center in my home town (well, city that is) and went inside. I got my nametag with embarrassing photo on it and the little pin with a mortarboard and the graduation year on it. So far so good, no one recognized me yet. A handful of people with whom I had classes with way back spotted me and we started talking about the good old days, where we've been, what we were up to. A lot of them had made it pretty big, former military officers, computer gods, medical warlords, etc... I was the only one who had taken talent as a way out and I was doing pretty well. A band with a nationwide fan base and CDs on the record store shelves. Not bad for that skinny kid with few friends. After about an hour of mingling and brief catching up, the dinner was starting and we were ushered inside by the event staff. There were eight large round tables in the conference room, each with 12 chairs around it. I grabbed a seat and the guys I had been chatting with took seats at the same table until the last chair was filled. I looked around to see if there were any other familiar faces, but none registered.

After the dinner the organizers of the event did a little giveaway contest, longest distance traveled, youngest kids, most changed, least changed. When the people stepped up to the front of the room for "least changed" I saw her. Sarah Miller. My heart stopped as she turned and faced us. I had serious mad hots for her all four years, but she just didn't seem to notice me. Those blue eyes were as deep as I remembered. Her blonde curly locks had been replaced by red curly locks. That black velvet dress hugged her curves as much as I had wanted to for the four years we were in school. Her creamy complexion was as flawless as the day we said the big "C ya" to those hallowed halls of Robertson Adams High School twenty years ago. As people were eliminated from the contest she went early, mainly because she was a just a little heavier than twenty years ago. The winner was the senior class president runner up; she hadn't aged more than a few minutes in twenty years. They called out "most changed" and everyone at my table unanimously elected me to get that award. I went up and the announcer said my name and the room got quiet for just a second. That skinny kid with a bowl haircut and braces was no more. Instead there stood a broad shouldered man with dark brown hair halfway to his waist (in a ponytail) with straight teeth. I noticed Sarah Miller staring at me, mouth slightly agape. I waved and she turned a little red, smiling and looking away.

The rest of the evening I sat and talked with the guys, some had kids; most were married, some more than once. We all had great time getting reacquainted and exchanging contact info. About midnight I decided it was time to retire for the night, so I bed them goodnight and headed out to the walkway when there was Sarah Miller. She approached me and smiled, offering her hand.

"Oh, my gosh, Kain is that you?" she asked, still blushing a little. I took her hand and kissed her knuckle, not because I was a gentleman, but because I always wanted to. The scent of peach blossoms filled the air. Her hand lingered in mine for a moment.

"I'm afraid it is, Sarah, "I said, smiling, "you look great you know." She turned her head away a little and put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, go on, I'm old and fat, and you, you're so h... much, uh, different..." She reddened further at the stumble over words.

"Oh no, "I said firmly, "never say 'fat', you're 'cuddly', or 'fluffy', or 'softer', I can't in good conscience let a beautiful woman speak ill of herself in my presence." She leaned over and hugged me, thanking me.

"You were always such the gentleman, Kain." When she stepped back her eyes captured mine. That shade of blue didn't exist anywhere else. We stared for a moment before reality returned to us. I offered her my arm and asked,

"Would you like to have a drink at the lounge with me?" She took both offers and off we went.

We sat and talked about time passing by until the bartender called last call. She had married badly and divorced that bastard after three years of being his punching bag. He later ended up getting his in a drunken driving crash. Since then she had been to college and had her degree in criminal psychology and was a counselor at a prison. She made good money and had a god life, but never married, or even dated again. I started to tell of my beginnings as a guitar repairman right out of school, but she seemed to know the rest. When and were I met the other three guys who would later form the band "Conscious Nightmare" and bring just enough fame and success to live comfortably. I was surprised that she knew that much, I've run into dedicated fans who knew way less. I just had to know how she knew so much about me.

"How do you know so much about Conscious Nightmare?" I asked. She grew quiet for a moment and looked down. She took a breath and gave an answer I wasn't expecting.

"Kain, I've had a crush on you since 10th grade." She sat for a moment, and then started to leave. I stopped her by taking her hand.

"No, wait, don't go. Please..." I said, almost pleadingly. She stopped, and then sat back down, looking rather upset. "You don't have to feel embarrassed or leave or anything like that." I continued, "Truth be told, I've carried that torch for you too." She looked up at me and smiled a little, but the tear falling from her eye told me she wasn't in good spirits.

"You do?" she asked "You never said anything..." I closed my eyes and nodded.

"You were popular, I wasn't, such communications didn't happen." I said, taking my last shot of Southern Comfort. I took her hand and held it. She was trembling. "You're trembling." I said.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." She said with forced control.

"Why apologize, you're speaking the truth, right" I replied

"You're a rock star, "she shot back, "you probably have women climbing all over you, girlfriends in every city, the whole bit." I was surprised.

"I've avoided that side of the whole rock and roll image, it just isn't me." I said. "I've seen too many guys lose it and fall out because of that party lifestyle, it's just not for me." She looked at me, with a pout.

"I thought you'd have a wife by now, a guy like you must have countless offers from pretty young girls all the time." She said, still upset. I took her other hand and pulled her close and said softly,

"I live in a 5 bedroom house with a German Shepherd named Larz. When I'm not doing music I do photography." She put her head on my shoulder and inhaled deeply.

"I've made a total ass out of myself, haven't I?" she asked. I pulled her in closer and wrapped my arms around her and said she hadn't. She put her arms around me and held me. She breathed deeply and asked, "Have I ruined your image of me then?" While she was still facing me I leaned in slowly. Her eyes looked into mine as I closed the gap. Her mouth opened just a little as I drew closer. Her eyes closed as my lips met hers. The tingle carried throughout my whole body as she accepted my advance. I could feel her heart pounding as she tightened her arms around me. Twenty years of secrecy came to an end in that moment.

"Um, excuse me, "said the waitress. We parted and stared at her like she had just drawn a knife on us. That poor girl turned so many shades of red. "err, it's, um, closing time, you'll have to, uh, continue, that is, ah, ..." We had to laugh. She was appeased by a rather large tip, $50 for a $7 shot of liquor. Sarah and I left the lounge and took a walk outside. The moon was in full phase and silver light shone all around. The street lights made a long line of yellow dots up and down the street. We walked arm in arm, slowly, to make that moment last. We ended up at a Denny's. We went inside and had a seat. We stared at each other over a coffee and pie. Everything that needed saying at that moment had been said. We finished up and headed back to the hotel, still arm in arm. She offered no goodbyes or farewells; we got in the elevator and knew where we were headed next. We exited the elevator on the sixth floor and went to my room. I broke the silence between us.

"Nothing has to happen; only what we want to happen." I said, cautiously. She smiled, giggled a little, pulled my head to her face and whispered,

"Shut up and let's go make up for twenty years!"