Reunion+-+Draft+1

Reunion  Ten years ago I definitely didn’t think I would be standing in front of my mirror worrying about making that second first impression. Reunions are overrated. People either went to pompously show off how successful they have become, or to desperately try and hook up with their old high school fling. Either way, I didn’t think I’d spend ten minutes fixing my “go-to” tie; usually meant for my corporate meetings.  “Jack, stop fiddling with that tie, it’s not going to get any straighter,” Libby said, sitting on the edge of the satin blue comforter buckling her strappy heels. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon anyway.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Libby’s reflection. Stunning. Her little black dress flowed effortlessly over her perfect hour glass shape. She never needed to do much to be gorgeous, although she’d always deny it every time I’d say something. I love that about her.  “We’re only staying for an hour, k? I’m not sure if I can handle much more than that,” I said finally walking away from the mirror and my tie. Libby turned around, kissed my cheek and said, “Whatever you say.” As she slid gracefully to the side and headed towards the stairs - I could still smell the sweet magnolias of her perfume lingering in the air. I took one last glance in the mirror – stupid tie. With one last deep breath I slumped towards the rusty red door and down the stairs.

 Just as I remembered it. The long, rectangular, brick building carried the memories of high school I had made sure I’d forgotten. “Let’s get this over with,” I said with a groan I intentionally didn’t hide.  With little effort, I helped Libby down from her passenger seat of the black SUV. The parking lot was glistening from street lamps shining down upon the dark wet pavement, this was always the best parking lot for donuts in the winter, and we walked, hands linked, towards the double doors of the old building. I could feel the claustrophobia of my tie around my neck as we reached the dolled up cafeteria. At first a flood of memories came as the familiar lunch room odor reached my nose. I think I still owe money for that broken lunch table. “Damn, there’s Pete. The one person I was hoping not to see…” Libby squeezed my arm when she felt me tense up at the sight of him, although she was unaware of my reason. I hope she doesn’t find out.  Pete came trudging toward us with that smug look on his face carrying a wine glass as if it were brandy.  “Well say it ain’t so, hey there Jack!”  “Hey Pete.” “Pete, this is Libby,” I said only trying to be polite. Without looking in even her general direction he said, “hey,” and took another sip of his drink and glanced around the room with that same smug smirk as though we were unimportant. I tried to ignored that. “Glad you’re doin’ well,” I said rolling my eyes slightly. “So how’s that back treatin’ ya?” I was hoping he caught my sarcasm - he did.  “Well, ya know, um, I’ve got it covered,” Pete said as he straightened up a little more. He started fiddling with his fingers as it looked like he searched for something impressive to say. I got joy out of watching him think so hard. Geeze, don’t have a brain aneurism - I laughed with myself. The flashback to the broken table came rolling back in. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;"> Pete gained the arrogant look again, and was just about to open his mouth, closed it, then opened again to say, “Well, ya know, Jack…I don’t mess with that stuff anymore.” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;"> “Right,” I said doubtingly eyeing his messy rolled up sleeves. “I’m sure we’re both a little too old for that now, right?” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;"> He narrowed his eyes and took a warning step towards me. If it came too it, I wouldn’t mind adding more money to that table tab. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“But hey, it was nice seeing ya again Pete. We just might have to do this again sometime.” I love sarcasm. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">I wrapped my arm around Libby’s waist, her soft, silk dress in between my fingers, and lead her to a seat. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“What was that all about?” Libby whispered in my ear. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">“No worries, Lib.” <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">As I pulled her chair out for her to sit down, I glanced back over at Pete. He was still standing there, half turned, his shoulders slumped, lips pursed, and his right eye brow raised. <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 16px;">Hopefully that will shut him up for a while.