I dated, slept with, had carnal knowledge of, and generally was attached to Sylvia Avery for my entire time in college. Well, not the entire time. Midway through our senior year, Sylvia informed me that she had met some guy when she was home from school last summer in Galveston, Texas and was, well, going to marry him. Needless to say I was dumbfounded. Hit by a bolt of lightning was more like it. However, I struggled through the last semester in a daze, graduated and started law school. Three years later I was a junior associate in an Atlanta law firm specializing in bankruptcies (my timing was perfect on that matter with the economy in rapid decline), working 12 hours days and generally enjoying life, such as it was. Although from time to time my thoughts would travel back to my college days and Sylvia's really awesome breasts.
We had a client that owned a chain of hotels in resort areas all over the country that had gotten into some real financial trouble. I was assigned to this client on a full-time basis and told that if I could help he and his business recover from Chapter 11 that a partnership with the firm was in my future. I readily immersed myself in his business and, within six months, had him on his way to showing a profit and paying off his creditors. That's when hurricane Ike hit.
Although my client's properties along the Gulf Coast had been spared from major damage, bookings had dropped to nothing and my client was in deep cash flow trouble again. I found myself on the next plane to, of all places, Galveston, Texas, where his largest hotel was located, now virtually empty. On the plane ride down I dozed a bit, with thoughts of Sylvia and her breasts my only link to that city.
I arrived in Galveston on a Thursday and spent that day and Friday at the hotel office, meeting with the accountants to go over the numbers. They were worse than I had thought. My client had barely one month of cash flow left unless tourists began flocking to stay with him. There goes that partnership. Saturday was an off day and I decided to relax and do nothing. However, every now and then my eyes would wander to the telephone with the thought, call her or not?
That afternoon I decided to call. Picked up the phone, dialed the number (I had conveniently kept it in my address book all these years). A woman answered. But not Sylvia.
"Hello," she said.
"May I speak with Sylvia Avery, please, if she is there," was my reply.
"Sylvia's not here, she moved from Galveston with her husband to Denver a year ago," the woman said, "This is her mother, Jackie Avery, who is calling?"
"Maybe you remember me," I said, "It's George Sawyer, from college. I dated Sylvia."
"George," she said, "Of course I remember you. How could I forget? You and Sylvia were together for, what was it, over three years?"
"Three and half, to be exact, Mrs. Avery," I said. "But I'm sorry to bother you. I just thought I might say hello to Sylvia. I'm in Galveston on business. Next time you talk to her say hello for me. I'll let you get back to what you were doing." And I started to hang up.
"Nonsense," she said, "And it's Jackie, not Mrs. Avery, you make me sound so old on my 47th birthday today."
"Well, happy birthday, Jackie," I said, "I'm sure your husband, Jeff, has something big plans for you."
The next few words shocked me. "That rat-bastard left me two years ago for his secretary. I've been alone since then and my birthday plans are zilch. Maybe Sylvia will call if she can find time away from her four kids. Hey, I have an idea. Why not stop by for dinner? I'm sure I can do better than hotel food and I would love to find out what you have been doing these last few years.
My business schedule said no but a little voice in the back of my head said, go see her. You never know what might happen.
