Elvie Whats In A Nickname

The hum of a finely-tuned engine echoed through the cabin of the car, punctuated by the sporadic thump of the tires crossing the occasional crack in the asphalt. Sounds normally relegated to the background became prominent amidst the awkward silence that hung between me and my wife.

"OK," I said, exasperated, as I started to pull the car over to the side of the road. "Okay, okay, okay."

The road was dark, completely devoid of streetlamps, but the headlights of our Audi illuminated barren bushes and bramble, a fitting allegory for our dialogue recently.

I turned to look at Danielle. God, she was hard to be mad at. Girl-next-door cuteness, chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a compact figure to die for. Tonight, she was particularly tempting, in a little blue dress, Louboutin heels and a pearl necklace. At just twenty-four years old, she dressed more maturely than most in our generation, but being mature beyond her age had defined her since childhood.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's not that I haven't been listening to you. I've been listening, and I've heard you. It's just that I have such a hard time believing it."

"And why is it so hard to believe, that I wouldn't want to go to my high school reunion?"

"Well now I feel like you haven't been listening to me," I said through a smile, making sure to temper the atmosphere. "Here's what you've told me about high school: your dad - who I can corroborate is incredibly overbearing - minimized your social interactions. You didn't have a ton of friends, and the few you did have were of the nerdish persuasion. Silver lining is that you committed yourself to your studies, graduated top of your class and left with multiple ivy league schools pleading with you to attend."

"Yeah, exactly. So why would I want to go back? It's not like they were the glory days for me."

"For that exact reason! I mean, if I were you, I'd want to go back and show everyone what you made of yourself. From the bookish, concealed, straight-A student to tech wonderkid with a $300k salary and a banging bod! Wouldn't it be fun to waltz around the room showing everyone what they missed?"

Danielle blushed. "I don't have a banging bod," she said as she tucked some hair behind her ear.

"Well now you've just resorted to lying, and that's not going to work."

She chuckled.

"Look," I said. "We're two twenty-four year olds in a fast car, fancy clothes and expendable income...say the word, and I'll turn this car around and drive us back into the city. You can make a reservation for wherever you want on the way."

"We've already spent an hour and a half driving here. You want to turn around now?"

"Well, honestly, I thought I'd have convinced you by now."

She paused a second, waiting for a car to speed past and the sound to recede.

"OK, fuck it. Let's go to the reunion. But please know that there are some parts of my past I'd kind of prefer to stay there."

As I turned back onto the road, I questioned that.

"I can't imagine what you would feel the need to hide, from me especially," I said. "You're kind, you're smart, you were great at tennis and track. And not to be crude, but I know you were a virgin when we met. It's not like you were the class slut or anything...what could you possibly have to hide?"

"OK, smart Alec, just keep driving. "And if I give you a look at any point tonight, maybe consider changing the topic."

At that, she smiled and started her favorite Spotify playlist through the car speakers. From that point until we reached West Ambler High, neither of us noticed the sound of the road again.

.....

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the massive gymnasium was that we were overdressed. I had dressed sharply in a pair of black slacks, a crisp, white button down and a black jacket. I assumed the absence of a tie would imply an air of casualness, but apparently small town sartorial sense was a bit skewed. Most of the guys were in khaki shorts and a polo shirt, some in jeans and an untucked button down.

The women, at least, put in more of an effort, including Danielle's friend Georgie who scampered over to us as soon as we entered.

"Danielle!!!!" she screamed as she collided with her and wrapped her in an embrace. Georgie was one of the few high school friends with whom Danielle had kept in touch. Danielle counted her as part of her academic clique, and had doubled with her on the tennis courts. Tonight, she donned a beautiful black dress and pearls.

Georgie greeted me with a peck on the cheek and a thank you for swaying Danielle into attendance.

"It was much harder than I thought it would be," I said. "Even fifteen minutes ago we almost turned the car around."

"Danielle, are you serious!? You look fucking amazing and you're the most successful person in this room. Why not do a little victory lap?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. She would never admit it, but flattery often nudged her in the right direction. By now, a few other former friends had huddled around, and Danielle introduced me rapid fire.

Joining the group last was a striking woman who put my outfit to shame. She was tall, maybe 5' 10", with immaculate white-blonde hair cut short on the sides and long up top. She wore a white suit that clinched at her waist and swelled at her ankles. From what I could tell, the white blazer was the only thing she was wearing up top.

Whereas the rest of the women had been giddy to see each other, this Scandinavian was austere, deliberate and cool. When her eyes met Danielle's for the first time, there was a moment of uncertainty between them. Something about it suggested that maybe whatever it was that Danielle wanted to hide was related to this statuesque woman.

"Elvie," she said, taking Danielle's hand, "So great to see you again."

She leaned in deliberately and planted a soft kiss on Danielle's cheek.

"Regan," Danielle said, her mouth curling into an awkward smile.

"Elvie?" I asked.

Danielle snapped back to reality at the sound of my voice. "Oh, Regan, this is my husband, Sam."

Regan turned towards me and offered a hand. "Husband? I'm sorry, I must have missed the invitation! And Sam, what makes you so special to have snagged such an amazing woman?"

"I ask myself that every day," I answered. Then, turning back to Danielle, I asked again, "Elvie?"

"Oh, I'll explain it later," she said, shooing it aside.She gave me a quick glare that suggested I change the subject.

"Can I get anyone a drink from the bar?" I asked, eager to let the ladies catch up without me.

By the time I returned, Danielle had worked her way further into the room, and the group had shifted to include some guys. As I made my way towards them, I heard two of them refer to Danielle as "Elvie." Danielle seemed unbothered, but was scanning the room looking for me, perhaps not wanting me to hear the term. Either way, it eased my suspicions about Regan that she wasn't the only one calling Danielle by this nickname.

Could it just be a cutesy twist on her real name? Dani-elle, Elle-vy? Like the way Tim becomes TImmy, with the V added to break up the vowel sounds?

"There you are," Danielle sounded relieved as I handed her a gin and tonic. "Everyone, this is my husband, Sam." She took me by the arm and pulled me into the perimeter of the group. "Sam, this is Jeremy, Kevin, Andy and Jason."

We shook hands with the usual level of indifference men usually use when they don't expect to see each other again.

"I don't mind saying," Jeremy started, "That you, Sam, are the envy of every guy in this room. I think most of us were hoping Elvie here would show up single."

"Jeremy!" Georgie interjected on Danielle's behalf.

"Sorry, I mean Danielle," he chuckled. Andy and Kevin shared in his amusement.

"Seriously, guys, let it go," Danielle said, clearly flustered.

Jeremy put both hands up in a gesture of apology.

Georgie shifted the conversation to high school sports, creating a space where the guys could brag about past accomplishments. The ladies seemed disinterested, and passed the time by exchanging sarcastic glances, but it achieved the desired effect of getting the guys off of whatever "Elvie" meant.

Curiosity got the better of me, so during a lull in the conversation I took Danielle's hand and excused us. "We got the next round," I said. "Honey, will you help me?"

As we made our way to the bar, I noticed many sideways glances, from both men and women, checking us out. I could have sworn I heard whispering directed our way, but I overlooked it as more talk about how beautiful Danielle was.

After we placed our order, I breached the Elvie subject with Danielle.

"OK, babe, I know you said you wanted to keep some parts hidden, but what's up with this Elvie nickname?"

"Babe, come on...I had one condition for coming here," she pleaded.

"What, 'Elvie' is the big secret? Is it really that bad?"

Danielle looked behind her, making sure no one could here. She took a deep breath to compose herself, and I waited excitedly for the salacious details.

"OK, you know how seriously I took my studies," she started. "Senior year, I was taking this AP history class on the Roman empire. Like every other class, I was killing it, A's on every project...doing my thing..."

"Go on..." I said after a pause.

"So one night, my dad is on a work trip and I decide on a whim that it would be my best chance to try some alcohol. So I pull some peach Schnapps from his cabinet and take a sip."

I put my hand over my heart in mock horror. "Scandalous!" I gasped.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, it being peachy, I ended up having almost half the bottle. Not the best experience for my first time, and I woke up with a brutal hangover. And during that mind-numbing hangover I walk into my Roman history class and the teacher announces a pop quiz."

"Oh fuck, that's tough luck."

"Needless to say, it was a disaster. The next day, when the teacher handed back the tests, Georgie and Regan got theirs back before me, and of course they both got A's. Mine is so bad he folds the paper in half and turns it over so no one else sees it. But I had told Georgie and Regan about my impediment, so they were almost gleefully looking to see what I got. Facing my fears, I turned the paper over and unfolded it. At the top of the page in red sharpie were the letters L. V. Roman numerals for 55. I guess professor Huntington had a sense of humor about my first big slip up."

I shook my head, not understanding. "And?"

"And? And from that point on everyone started calling me L-V. It was a tepid mockery of my lowest point. Not the meanest nickname by any stretch, but it was a constant prodding, and they knew it got under my skin, so they maintained it until graduation...and, apparently, until tonight."

I still couldn't quite understand. "Wait, so the part of your past you didn't want me to know is that one time you let loose a little and failed a pop quiz? I feel like you were able to overcome, my love. Look at you now!"

"I know, it's stupid. But I kind of wanted to just keep it buried, even if it doesn't mean anything to you."

I pulled her in close and kissed her softly. "Thanks for telling me, baby," I whispered.

The first handful of drinks arrived and Danielle said she'd take them back to the group. I waited for the next several. Seemingly as soon as Danielle stepped away from one side, Regan appeared on the other. I jolted in surprise.

"Sorry!" she said. "Didn't mean to startle you. I thought I'd offer to help carry the rest," she said.

"I appreciate that. You know, for what it's worth, you're one of only a handful of people Danielle told me about before coming here. She said you were quite the model student."

Regan had a cold smile. "I'd venture to say that we were both better because of each other. We were in constant competition, but by the end of senior year I think we reached a mutual respect."

"I think she shares that sentiment," I replied.

"But listen, that L-V story she told you, it's bull shit."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it was an absolute masterwork of improvisation - one the many extracurriculars at which she excelled - but LV in no way represents a grade."

My eyes narrowed questioningly. "Do you care to tell me what you think it stands for?"

"Danielle was my rival for most of high school, so I don't mind twisting the screw a little bit. But the reality is, you might not want to know the truth. Give me your email address."

This was a twist I really wasn't expecting. "What for?" I asked.

"I'm going to send you a link to a Dropbox folder that will reveal the truth. But I advise you to think twice before opening it. It might be kind of shocking to someone who's only ever known the goody two-shoes version of Danielle."

A couple drinks landed on the bar and I knew my time was limited. I decided to give Regan my email address so I could process this information and open the link later only if I wanted to. Regan looked like a predator having successfully snared its prey. She entered my email into her phone and announced that it had been delivered.

"Tread carefully," she said as she picked up two martinis. I grabbed the rest and followed her to the group.

.....

When I was ten years old, my parents dropped me off early at school one day in November. This afforded my pick of the playground equipment, and I attacked those monkey bars with aplomb. That is, until I slipped. Or tripped, or fell...I'm not exactly sure. What I remember is waking up on the ground, the cool air causing goosebumps, and a teacher kneeling over me. I'd been concussed, the severity of which was confirmed by the incoming wail of an ambulance siren.

In my concussed state, I was experiencing life in between dreams and reality. My teacher's hand against my forehead, the medics arriving, the ambulance ride to the hospital...I was vaguely aware of what was happening, but struggled to understand why. People seemed to walk around me in blurry slow motion.

That's the same sensation I was experiencing now, meandering through a room full of strangers with the weight of Regan's words ricocheting inside my skull. Every name I learned evaporated into the ether before I released their hand. The notion that there could be some dark secret buried in Danielle's past shook me to my core.

After all, what could it possibly be? A gentleman doesn't go into details, but suffice it to say there's certain evidence left behind when a woman loses her virginity, and that evidence was there on our wedding night. So I found it hard to believe that whatever this secret was could have been sexual in nature. I knew Danielle's heart - her true self - so the likelihood that she was a bully, criminal or anything even remotely mean seemed equally unlikely.

The only other thing I could think of was along the lines of what Danielle confessed. Some sort of blemish on her academic standards. But Regan cast doubt on that.

The most fucked up part was the idea that the answer was in my pocked, in the Gmail app on my phone. And with it, the warning that I might not want to know, adding depth to the fuckery.

After half an hour, I decided I needed to know. As an engineer, I always leaned towards logic, and I couldn't think of a logical reason for Danielle to have some dark secret. I'd read the email, realize it was a joke, and rejoin the party at full awareness.

"Yeah, babe," Danielle said when I asked for directions to the restroom. "Just out the door there, a couple doors down the hall on the right.

"Thanks, babe. I'll be right back."

The bathroom was enormous, clearly designed for a high school with over a thousand students. There was a long row of stalls, probably twenty deep, and I decided for maximum privacy I would take the one all the way at the end. Sitting on the toilet, I fished my phone out of my pocket, unlocked it, and opened the Gmail app.

Sure enough, Regan's email was sitting there right up top. I opened it, expecting to see some text, but instead just saw the Dropbox link. Opening that, I was presented with two enormous files, both with randomized letters and numbers as titles. I clicked the one on top.

This took me to a page that showed a video box loading. I clicked play, but the circular arrow just spun idly on the screen, suggesting it was taking a while to load. The buffering bar indicated that it was less than 1% ready. I sat back, resting the phone on a small shelf to my left.

'Fuck!' I thought. Could anything else possibly contribute to the tension?

As if on cue, the front door swung open and I could hear a group of guys enter the bathroom. Through laughter and hiccupping, I sensed a jovial spirit amongst them, the kind that tends to arise after the third or fourth beer. They fanned out to the sinks, urinals and stalls, though it didn't sound like any of them came particularly close to where I was.

As some of them reconvened by the sinks, the chatter got boisterous.

"Man, how fucking hot does LV look tonight, am I right?"

My ears perked up immediately at the cacophony of affirmative grunts.

"Wait, which one's Elvie?" one of them asked, presumably a plus-one interloper to the group. "Wait, let me guess: black dress, blue dress or white suit?"

"Ha, excellent taste, my friend. All three are great, but I'm talking about the blue dress."

"Oh, OK, that's what I thought. I thought she said her name was Danielle."

There was a round of laughter at this.

"Yeah, it is. LV is just a nickname from back in the day." A further splatter of snickering followed the line, implying a salacious reason for the nickname.

"Well, don't leave me hanging like that," the plus-one said. "What does Elvie mean?"

"Well, first of all, you're pronouncing it like it's some fancy French term. It's just the letters, L-and-V. And it stands for L..."

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" one of the other guys interjected. "You can't just tell him what it means, Jeremy. You gotta build up to it. Tell the whole story!" Now I had a face for the voice. Jeremy was one of the few men I'd met tonight.

"Please. You just want the whole story because you're a bunch of perverts. You've already heard it a million times. Hell, some of you lived it!"

"Look, even if you just tell him what it stands for, you're still going to have to explain it. And besides, most of us only came to this lame-ass party because we were hoping Danielle would be here and we could make up for lost time. But she's on the arm of some dude. So let's hear the story about the night it all started. For old times' sake."

"Well, now you have to tell me." said the plus-one.

"OK, OK," Jeremy started, appeasing his crowd. "OK, so you've seen Danielle and how fucking hot she is. In truth, none of us really knew for sure for most of high school. She had this overbearing dad who always made her cover up. Almost always in jeans and a sweater or sweatshirt. The number of times I saw her in even a snug t-shirt is probably less than five. Super conservative, right? Plus, he never let her go to any parties. She had to put all of her efforts into her grades and ensuring she gets into a great college.

You know the type, I'm sure. Every high school has at least one or two."

The plus-one agreed with an "Uh huh."

"OK, so fast forward to senior year. The weekend after college submissions are due. We're in that glory period where there's nothing we can do to harm or help our college applications, short of committing a felony. Conveniently, my parents decided to go into the city for a couple nights for their anniversary. They've always been cool about letting me have the house to myself, and even having some friends over so long as I keep things clean.

I invite everybody. And I mean everybody. Personally handing out invitations to everyone I see for about a week beforehand. I give one to Danielle, an act of purest optimism, thinking her dad will never allow her to come. But lo and behold, a couple hours after the party starts, I'm sitting on the couch and there's got to be 30-40 people spread out around the first floor and basement. I'm thinking everyone who's going to come has already arrived, when I see the front door creek open. I couldn't believe it. I think I leapt from the couch and crossed all the way to her before she even closed the door behind her. I'll never forget it. She was wearing jean shorts, sandals and a white tank top. It was more skin than she'd shown over the last three and a half years combined.