I arrived late, as was becoming more my custom recently. It amazed me how comfortable I had become with me, not needing to be in the center of everything. The calm, the quiet sense of self had definitely grown on me in the past few years.
Looking in the mirror before getting out of the car I could see the difference. The light wisps of grey hair around the temples showed outside what I was feeling inside, I was growing wiser--some may say older, but I knew the truth. Age is a small price to pay for wisdom.
Walking into the crowded conference hall used to be so chaotic. Arriving early when the throngs of people were rushing to get registered, get their nametags and coffee and a donut was always so chaotic and frustrating. I enjoy it much more now, arriving after the "social hour", having just a couple of minutes to mingle before the meetings began.
Today was no different, or so I thought. I picked up a stick on nametag, chuckling to myself at the memories of years going by. I remembered the times that I refused to be a part of the "lemmings" by wearing one, then making sure that my title was prominent for everyone to see. Today, I just wrote "TJ", no title, no company, just TJ, after all that's who I am. As I grabbed my cup of coffee I saw her, across the room... the long brown hair, the slim figure... it had to be her, but I couldn't be positive. It looked like her, she was surrounded by a crowd of admiring men - that would have been typical - my military training took over, I had to know, but didn't want to be foolish about it. Then I heard her laugh and she turned her head... our eyes met. It was her. Alex Kavenaugh, she who knew me better than anyone else, the woman who probably had more impact on my depth and maturity than anyone would ever know.
I walked over to where she was standing; the rest of the room seemed to fade into the background as she hugged me.
"TJ, it's good to see you, it's been a long time," she said.
"It's been too long Alex, way too long, time has been very good to you, you look better than ever."
"Oh, time is nothing that a little exercise, a little discipline, and a good hair color can't fix," she said with her characteristic wit and flourish.
"Nonsense, you look wonderful. I didn't expect to see you at this conference. If I had known you were going to be here I would have decided to stay instead of making the drive back to the city after tonight's session," I said.
"I thought that this conference could be helpful to the company, and I came along with the H/R team, probably to chaperone," Alex replied.
Just as I was about to ask her if she had a chaperone with her to keep her out of trouble, the Conference Facilitator called our meeting to order and the crowd began to flow into the auditorium. I saw the look of curiosity in her eyes as I went to the platform and took my place with one of the speakers. As I was introduced Alex raised her cup of tea, Earl Grey with a touch of honey, Alex wouldn't have been caught dead with coffee, and smiled.
I could only hope that I remembered what I had been preparing for the past week. She always did have a way to fluster me, damn woman.
Today was going to be one of those roundtable discussions with four of us speaking on leadership and ethics in business. Somehow in the past few years I had become one of those "talking head" experts that I used to despise so much. I'm still not quite sure how it started, an article for a journal, a couple of small consulting jobs, a speaking engagement in which a local newspaper reporter was there.
She was intrigued and wrote an article, fortunately leaving out some of the more personal details of our interview. The article got picked up by some magazine and suddenly here I was speaking at conferences of Business Executives, H/R people, government folks, university eggheads, eager students. I had to shake my head in amazement at the twists and turns of life that had brought me to this point, in this place, with her sitting in the audience.
Alex and I went back a long time. We had been friends in college. We were young, naïve, adventurous. She dated and ended up marrying my college roommate. He had been an avid hockey player, good enough to go to the NHL if it weren't for injuries. We spent many hours sitting and talking as Mark practiced or traveled with the team. She would repair my broken heart, and chastise me for being a "player", she would listen to me mourn my parents divorce and clean me up after a fight in a bar or too much bourbon.
I had been in the wedding party when he and Alex got married. I remember being surprised at how jealous I was when Alex started down the aisle.She was the woman I loved, and I could only love her from a distance. A couple of years after they were married, as I was visiting them on leave, I had probably had one too many Long Island Iced Teas I told her of my jealousy and I kissed her. Fortunately, I don't think Mark ever found out, but I was so embarrassed I packed up the next day and headed back to Fort Campbell, promising myself that I would never interfere in their lives again.
Life went on its normal path, I back to the army, and they to their careers. I survived my injuries from Desert Storm, (plus the army put me through my PhD program), Mark didn't survive the drunk driver. I wanted to be there for her, but my embarrassment and pride wouldn't let me. I sent a card and flowers, but couldn't bring myself to be there.
The presentation went well, as presentations go. It was probably a good thing that for most of the presentation that the lights were bright enough I couldn't see into the audience. When they turned the lights down for audience questions I caught myself more than once being distracted by the beautiful lady sitting on the left hand side of the auditorium.
The group broke for lunch before we had an afternoon of small group workshops. I was casually preparing for the small group I was facilitating when she walked through the door and took a seat in the front row/center.
I looked up and smiled and she raised her hand...
"Yes," I coyly asked, looking at her over top of my glasses with a sly smirk.
"Doctor, I'm not scheduled to be in this workshop, would you mind if I stow away here in front?"
"As long as you promise to behave and not be too disruptive," I responded.
She crossed her long legs underneath her long woolen skirt; suddenly I was reminded that in her college days Alex was a bit of a snob when it came to her clothing. One night as we were sitting around watching some show on television she had said, "Panty hose? No real woman wears pantyhose... stockings and garters are the ONLY way to dress." What a time for that memory to come flying back into focus from the recesses of my mind. Now, through no fault of her own, I was distracted, silently thankful that I was well hidden behind the podium in front.
"I promise to be a good girl, Doctor."
Was she flirting with me? Was she wearing a ring? I had made these small group presentations hundreds of times, why was it so warm in here? Thankfully, the answers to my questions would have to wait as the registered part of the group began to arrive.
The presentation was an adventure. As I was trying to present some of my findings and thoughts I was continually interrupted by a woman who must have thought that she was the one being paid to be here. I tried, as politely as I was able to steer her disruptions back to the topic at hand, but she would have none of it. I could see by the look on Alex's face that she was frustrated. I wondered if she were being protective, or just annoyed at the distraction. I secretly hoped she was feeling protective. Finally, my frustration got the best of me. I stepped away from the podium, took off my glasses and said, dripping with sarcasm, "Martha," I began.
"That's Ms. Banks," she replied.
"Martha," I continued, ... obviously there is a grievous lack in my education and years of expertise. Since you seem to have a much better handle on the topic at hand, perhaps you would like to take over the podium and put some of your REPRESSED energy to work and enlighten the group? Assuming, of course, that the rest of the group has no problem with it."
I calmly walked over and sat down next to Alex. "Well, Ms. Banks, the floor is yours..." She didn't stir; she just glared daggers through me. Ms. Banks, you have paid your fees, and are entitled to be here, as are the others in this group. Since I can't throw you out of here, if you continue to behave like a child then may I suggest that you can go stand with your nose in the corner."
"You wouldn't dare!" she snarled.
