Reunion

I have had trouble deciding whether or not to confess this.  Last night, the night of the autumnal equinox, I went to a high school reunion.  I didn't pick one at random.  I knew the people.  I graduated with them a long time ago.  I didn't want to go but I had a morbid curiosity to peep through the keyhole.  I have nothing to do with any of these people but one who works with me at the factory, and he and I only cross paths on occasion, but we are both trouble makers and so we conspire from time to time.

I got there before him and waited in the parking lot until he arrived not wishing to walk in alone and try to make small talk.

"What do you think, man?"

"This is a mistake.  I doubt that anyone will be here.  I feel stupid."

We walked through the lobby of a big hotel and followed the signs to a banquet room.  There were tables set up at the door with a sign up sheet and name badges that had people's graduation pictures on them.  You had to find yours by name if you were a boy because all the photos looked the alike, everyone with the same haircut and smooth skin and goofy fucking high school smiles.  I didn't recognize the women at the table.

"Hi!"

"Uh, hi.  Do we fill these out?"

I hadn't brought my glasses and the lighting was terrible, so I began filling out the form in the order I thought things might be asked and by the size of the line.

"What's my maiden name?" I asked my buddy.

Inside it looked like we had come to an Amway convention.  I mean, people just looked normal.  There was nothing to distinguish them from any other crowd.  My buddy and I looked at one another helplessly.

"Where's the bar?"

My friend had brought his new wife along and the three of us found an empty table.

"I told her we would probably spend the evening at a table talking to one another," he said.  But just then someone came up and squinted at his name tag, said his name, and extended a hand.  He stood up and began talking and soon was dragged away to meet someone else.

I was ready to leave, though I knew it would be impolite, when a big fellow with a wild beard came over and said, "Whatever happened to those pictures of Carol Reid?"

Now this was the craziest thing that could have happened to begin the evening.  What he was referring to was a photo booth set four pictures from junior high school that showed a girl named Carol stripping.  I hadn't thought of those photos. . . well, I don't know.

"I don't know.  How did you know about them?"

"You showed them to me," he said.

"How did I get them?"

He didn't know.  And as I remembered, I think her boyfriend of the time gave them to me when they broke up.  She was one of the prettiest girls in our school, a cheerleader, a society girl (if such could be said of our pitiful crowd).  The fellow who had given them to me was a good looking kid who was a devil with girls.  He got several pregnant before we graduated, or before I did.  I think he dropped out in our senior year.

When he was gone, my buddy's girlfriend turned to me and said, "I guess that's where you got your interest in photography."

I thought about that for a minute.

"You're probably right," I said wondering where that photo strip might be.

And that's all I care to tell you about the night, really.  The reunion goes on for another two days.  Tonight there is a dinner and a dance.  And I made a terrible mistake.  When asked if I was coming, I said no.  I had never intended to go, but I should have said yes so as not to see the look in the eyes of the group of people I was standing with.

"Why?  What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Oh," I should have lied, "I have to leave for a conference in Portland in the morning."

Anything other than what I said.

As I was trying to get out the door, a fellow I'd gone to school with from the first grade on, a guy who played on my first baseball team and whose father knew mine, grabbed me in a hug and began a sort of low weeping.

"I love you, man.  I think about you a lot."

What do you say to something like that.  I don't see him, haven't seen him in twenty years.

"Oh, me too, man.  Great to see you."

Really.  The fellow was unhinged.

Driving home, I called my buddy.  He, too, was in his car.

"What the fuck?"

"I know, I know. . . it was awful."

"O.K. then.  I guess I'll see you at the dinner tomorrow night, eh?"

"Oh, you bet."