Living Backwards (29 page)

“So, what’re you proposing?”

“A class reunion. At Luke’s bar.” I winced, knowing Meg wouldn’t be a big fan of the idea.

“Oh, Christ. So you need to subject me to Sarah Spellman just to get the two of them in the same room? Why, Danielle? Why so mean?”

“Buck up. I won’t stop you if you want to make fun of her boobs,” I offered.

“Yes!” she hissed, pumping both fists. “So how do we do this?”

“We hop on Facebook and start sending out invitations.”

I knew the plan could backfire. It could be an utter disaster. I couldn’t even be sure that this would make her happy, but I had to find out. I had to try and pay Jillian back for all of the things that she had done for me over the years. I owed her so much.

It took a few days to receive the notification that Luke had accepted my Friend Request. I was getting pretty nervous, and honestly, a little annoyed that he hadn’t paid attention to my directions. You see a notification. You accept it. Facebook isn’t rocket science.

I poured over all of the details in his profile. It didn’t take long. He was single, as I suspected. There were no photos, and only a few people posted on his wall. Most of them mentioned how great the bar was—nothing personal. The boy really needed a lesson in Facebooking 101. His profile was boring as hell.

“What’s got you looking so serious?” Josh asked, looking up from his brief.

“I’m looking at Luke’s Facebook page and it’s dismal. I’m sending him a message about the reunion.”

“Tell him he still hasn’t accepted my Friend Request, and he owes me twenty bucks. Jillian was the first to puke on prom night, not you.”

“You bet that I would puke on prom night?!”

“No, I bet you
wouldn’t
puke on prom night. He thought you’d be excited about the Prom Queen thing and would drink too much. You
are
excitable, honey,” he hedged.

“Not speaking to you, Josh,” I retorted, turning back to type on my iPhone.

Luke – It was so good to see you last week. It got me thinking about high school, and before I knew it I was planning a reunion. Your bar seemed like the logical choice. I hope you don’t mind. Did you get Josh’s Friend Request? He says you still owe him $20. See you soon! Danielle

I pressed send and waited.

Reunion Night didn’t start off very well. I was at Jillian and Megan’s apartment helping Jillian get ready when I heard a gasp and a loud thump. When I went running into her bedroom, I found Jillian in a lump on the floor.

I was ready to scrap the entire plan. Megan was giving me dirty looks, pleading with me to keep her home, but Jillian insisted she’d be all right. I kept a close eye on her, but things got hectic once we were inside the bar. Sarah pounced on Megan as soon as we sat down, distracting me with the asymmetrical tube dress that wasn’t supposed to be asymmetrical. Before I knew it, Jillian was pushing her way out of the booth to run to the bathroom.

As I turned to move out of the booth, I noticed Luke heading towards us.

“There he is!” Nate cheered, standing up and clapping him on the back.

“Nate, man, good to see you,” he replied. “And I think I owe you few drinks, Fletcher.”

“And I’ll be collecting,” Josh laughed. “We need to get together without these high school bozos and grab a few beers, man. It’s been too long.”

“That sounds good,” he replied happily.

“Hey, are you working on Wednesday night?” Nate asked. I shot Megan a look. I hadn’t even thought about inviting him.

“I usually take Tuesday and Wednesday off,” he replied. “It’s slower.”

Nate was better at this than we were, and he had no idea that we were even scheming.

“Excellent! Danielle’s opening her design showroom and she’s having a cocktail thing. Don’t worry. She isn’t making us wear tuxes this time,” Nate explained, giving me a dirty look. Was it so much to ask them to dress up for my Holiday Open House? I didn’t think so.

The panic was evident on Luke’s face, but he had already admitted to having no plans. I think he knew he was stuck.

“Um...sure...yeah…that’d be fun,” he said half-heartedly.

Megan better give Nate a big reward.

“Well, I have a few things to handle out back. I’ll see you before you leave?”

“Absolutely,” I added. Luke nodded, heading down the hall and disappearing into a door near the restrooms.

“Do you know what, Nate?” Megan asked, slyly. “I am so doing that thing you like tonight.”

“
The
thing?” he said with wide eyes.

“Oh, yes.
The
thing.”

“Can we leave now?” he asked, straight-faced.

“Settle down, Big Boy. Just know that you did good,” she added with a wink.

“What are you two up to?” Josh asked, eyeing us suspiciously.

“Just sit and look pretty, Josh. Let me handle the tough stuff.”

This was perfect. Luke. Jillian. My Grand Opening. This I could work with. I might need to do some questionable things, and I would most likely piss her off, but if I could make this right for her, it would be worth it. Because it was never really about pastel houses and white picket fences. It was about being happy. And if I needed to jump through hoops to make this happen for her, I would. I just hoped she didn’t kill me in the process.

It was time for the members of Operation Nate to join forces. Operation Luke had commenced. Jillian just didn’t know it yet.

I wasn’t a pacer. I couldn’t even say I had any nervous habits, but at the rate I was going, I would burn a path into my office carpet before last call.

No matter how prepared I’d been, no matter how many times I imagined the conversation, no matter how hard I convinced myself that none of it ever mattered, I was still completely unprepared to see her again. It took less than five minutes to feel like I was eighteen.

I wasn’t stupid. I obviously knew I’d run into her at some point during the night. I was just expecting some warning first. But it was even more awkward than the day we met all those years ago. It felt like a lifetime ago when I stared at her red lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss her. Now that I knew, I wished I could forget.

More than ten years had passed. Her lips weren’t as red, and her hair wasn’t as long. Her body was much curvier than it used to be, but her eyes were just as big, just as brown. When she looked at me, I could tell that she was about to say something—make some excuse—about how it wasn’t me, how she was doing me a favor, how she wanted to be friends. I couldn’t just stand there while she spewed that bullshit. I wouldn’t.

So I left to find Nate and Josh, but mostly to maintain some dignity. I was mad at Danielle for having this stupid thing at my bar. I was mad at Peter for thinking it was funny. I was mad at Jillian for looking at me the way she did. But mostly, I was mad at how much it all still bothered me. I hated myself for that the most.

So I paced, listening to my former classmates laughing and joking, knowing she was out there on the other side of that door. But even though I would have sold my soul for a chance to skip the rest of the night altogether, I knew I couldn’t hide out in my office forever. It was almost last call, and Peter would need my help closing down. I had to man up.

Cursing the fact that I never finished my cigarette, I begrudgingly headed directly to the bar, not looking around—definitely not looking for her. When I took my place next to Peter, he was already giving me the side-eye.

“Thanks for stopping by, Romeo,” he said. “Don’t mind me. I’m just trying to run your bar here.”

I rolled my eyes, brushing past him to grab a clean rack of glasses from underneath the bar.

“So, I take it from your chipper mood that things didn’t go so well with Juliet,” he added.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered. Because he didn’t.

Out of habit, I looked up and scanned the room, finding aged versions of people I used to know scattered throughout the bar. Val Cooper looked pretty spent, rubbing the shoulders of some guy I recognized from my shop class. Her dress was too tight and her face was pulled back. It looked like she may have purchased a new nose at some point, but the guy didn’t seem to mind.

Karen Larson was definitely getting shut off. She was trying to start some kind of sing-a-long, but she was the only one actually singing. It was almost as bad as that song she sang at the prom. And that was saying a lot.

Everywhere I looked, I saw people I used to know doing the same things they were doing back when I knew them. Mike Wakefield still looked like a massive tool, and I still wanted to kick his ass. Maybe we never really leave high school. Or maybe high school never leaves us.

I was looking for some mundane task that would help me forget what an idiot I was when I saw everyone at her table stand up, pull on their coats and get ready to leave. Nate made his way over to me first.

“Hey, man, we’re taking off. It was good to see you,” he said, slapping me on the back again.

“We’ll see you on Wednesday, though. First round’s on me,” Josh added, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

“It’s an open bar, Josh,” Danielle interrupted.

“Then they’re all on me, aren’t they?” he countered.

“The man has a point, Danielle,” Megan chimed in.

I was trying to avoid Jillian, but it was impossible to ignore how uncomfortable she looked. Standing—practically hiding—behind Megan with her head tipped down, she barely took part in the conversation at all. If she was expecting me to make her feel more comfortable, she was crazy. The only comfort I had was that the bar was about to close and this night was almost over. When Peter flipped the lights on signaling last call, I jumped at the opportunity to make an exit.

“That’s my cue,” I added, shaking Nate’s hand and then grabbing Josh’s. “I guess I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”

Jillian finally lifted her head up slowly—and maybe I was wrong—but it looked like she was about to cry. I needed to get out of there. What right did she have to play the victim here? Why was she acting like this wasn’t all her own fault? I had already spent far too much time trying to figure out what the hell went on in that girl’s mind and I wasn’t going to do it anymore. I turned away, struggling to control the anger brewing inside. With a wave and a tight smile, I returned to the bar before I did anything I’d regret. I didn’t even look up when I heard the door close.

Later on, when the bar was empty and the floors were swept, I sat slumped over the counter, staring at a beer I didn’t even want. Hours had passed, and the tightening in my chest was still as intense as it was when I first saw her because it really wasn’t over. I’d have to do it all over again at Danielle’s opening on Wednesday. I’d have to pretend it wasn’t uncomfortable. I’d have to plaster a smile on my face. I’d have to stop myself from asking her what the hell happened. I’d have to risk saying too much because it all still seemed so raw. And I hated feeling that way.

The next few days passed in a blur. Sundays were always hectic during football season, and there was a Mariners game on Monday. I had a loyal clientele on game days so that kept me and the bar busy. I was distracted, though, forgetting to fax paperwork to one of the liquor distributors, and missing a business lunch I had scheduled with my attorney. By Tuesday, I was so tense and frustrated, I could barely sit still. For the first time in months, I took my bike out of storage and rode the coast. It gave me a chance to clear my head—get some perspective. I was acting like an idiot. And over a girl I never technically dated. As angry as I was at how things turned out, I had to cut the shit and move on.

That night, it didn’t take long to reach Danielle’s showroom in Magnolia Village. From the outside, the building looked small, but once I was inside, I was surprised at how much room she had. The old warehouse had been converted into a giant, open space, broken off into small segments with each area set up like rooms in a house. There were areas mocked up to look like living rooms, bedrooms, home offices. While I probably wasn’t picking up on the nuances in each design, I knew that everything looked nice. She’d done well for herself.

I wandered through the “rooms” until I reached the bar that was set up at the back of the building. The place was packed with people, but most everyone seemed to gravitate toward the cocktail reception in the back. As I made my way through the crowd, I spotted Danielle talking to a small group of people and gesturing wildly. Once she saw me, she practically ran over any party-goers in her way to reach me.

“Luke!” she exclaimed. “You’re here!” She was wearing a short, red dress, and looking every bit the spitfire I remembered. She was practically bouncing. “My, my. Don’t you look nice,” she remarked, sounding surprised. Maybe she expected me to show up on my bike, wearing a leather jacket. I couldn’t expect her to know how much of my time lately has been spent in meetings with developers, lawyers and bankers. I was well-stocked in the suit department.

“Nice place you have here, kid. I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you!” she beamed. “I’m pretty proud of it myself. Can I get you a drink?”

“I was just heading over to the bar.”

“No, no,” she replied. “I’ll grab Josh. Let him do it since he claims to have financed it.”

I started to laugh, surprised that she wasn’t the uptight mess I remembered. Maybe the Poor Bastard had gotten her to lighten up a bit.

She raised her hand up, signaling across the room to Josh who was wearing a black suit that resembled the tux he wore to the prom. At least this time there was no top hat or cane. When he looked up, the person he had been speaking to did as well. It was only then that I noticed he had been talking to Jillian. It was hard to recognize her at first with her head down and her hair shielding her face. I stared a little longer than I should have. I tried not to focus on the fitted, black dress she wore, but that only caused me to focus on it even more. Focusing was bad on all levels. I watched as she whispered something to Josh then disappeared into the crowd. I was still watching the empty space where she had been standing when Josh reached us.

“Josh, can you get Luke a drink and then show him around a bit?” she asked, flashing her dimples.

“You’ve got it, babe,” he replied, pecking her on the cheek. “Follow me.”

We made a beeline for the bar, passing through the crowds of people. I had never wanted a beer so badly in my whole life.

“What’ll it be?” the young kid behind the bar asked.

“Whatever you have on draft is fine,” I replied.

“Wow, you’re a cheap date, Chambers. Is this the same guy that smuggled Jack into school?”

“That wasn’t for me,” I answered quickly. “That was for—”

I stopped myself before I began explaining that it had been for Jillian. I had no idea how much, if anything, he knew about what went on with us in high school. Maybe he thought we went to the prom together and it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe he knew more. Maybe her disappearance had been a big joke for years.

“That was for something else,” I muttered, in no mood to find out which it was.

“Something else, my ass,” he replied. “You’ve gone soft. This makes me sad.”

The young bartender handed me my glass and I watched as he poured Josh’s scotch. I could tell right away that he was new at the job. He didn’t quite have the confidence that comes from knowing your way around a bar. He reminded me of myself many years ago. Digging in my pocket, I pulled out a ten and jammed it into the glass jar on the counter.

“Mr. Fletcher.” A young girl approached us, her voice in a hushed, urgent tone. “There’s a problem out front. Someone parked in the fire lane and Mrs. Fletcher is convinced she’s going to be shut down if we don’t find the owner.”

“My glamorous life,” he said looking over at me. “A glorified valet.”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” I replied, laughing. “Go do your thing.”

“Danielle will kill me if you don’t get the VIP tour. Maybe…” He craned his neck, looking out over the crowd. “Hey, Jill,” he called, looking over the heads of the people standing in front of us. She whipped around at the sound of her name, hair everywhere, her face blank and unreadable. She walked towards us tentatively, forcing a tight smile on her face as she approached.

“Can you show your old prom date around? Danielle wanted me to do it, but there’s an issue with the parking. Plus, you’re much better at this stuff than I am.”

Jillian’s body language was a dead giveaway. She was as stiff as a board and her face was like stone. I think she may have stopped breathing.

“Um…sure,” she replied, not sounding very convincing. I knew that it was shitty, but some part of me wanted her to be uncomfortable. Some part of me wanted her to feel regret. It was stupid and immature, and obviously “some part of me” was twelve, but it was true. I wanted her to know what she gave up.

“After you,” I insisted, motioning for her to lead the way.

“I’m sure you’re not interested in a tour of her design room,” she began, once Josh had left. She was fidgeting with the rings on her fingers, barely looking my way. “I’ll tell them you loved it and let you off the hook.”

But I didn’t want to be let off the hook. I guess that didn’t really jibe with that whole “letting it go” philosophy. Regardless, I wasn’t going to bail on the tour.

“I was actually looking forward to it, but if there’s some place else you need to be…”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” she stammered, shaking her head. “So…follow me.”

If it had been another place and time, I would have enjoyed walking behind her. The black dress hugged her body and moved fluidly along with her. The fabric grazed the top of her knee, accentuating her long legs. It cinched a little at her waist, showing off her curves. In another place and time, I’d want to place my hands on the slight flare of her hips, and feel the smooth skin of her upper thigh. But that time was long gone.

We walked through mock-ups of kitchens and living rooms while Jillian prattled on awkwardly about Danielle’s clients. Every now and then, I glanced over and had to remind myself not to look at the way her hair was swept over her shoulder and how her dress moved when she walked.

“So, these are the home office models.”

She nervously motioned to a section of leather couches and dark wood desks as if she were on a game show. “Danielle works with a lot of smaller companies, setting up workspaces that help make employees feel more comfortable. They say it makes workers more productive.”

“Very nice,” I remarked, taking in the different styles. “I took a class on that.”

She whipped around, caught off-guard. I should have been ashamed at how brazen I sounded. With anyone else I would have been.

“What?”

“The Hawthorne Studies. Frederick Taylor tried to prove that harsh lighting negatively affects worker productivity,” I replied, even thought I knew that wasn’t what she meant.

“Did you…was this in college?”

“U-Dub.”

“But you said…you said college wasn’t for you.”

“Well, we all change our minds from time to time, right?” I replied.

She looked stricken and I knew I looked like the biggest dick. This wasn’t how I wanted it to be. I hadn’t meant for it to sound so cold. The words just seemed to fly out of my mouth. I wanted her to know that I wasn’t the loser she knew in high school. I wanted her to know that I busted my ass and made something of myself. I wanted her to know that she didn’t know anything about me anymore. But, listening to myself, I felt like I didn’t know myself either. I sounded like an asshole.