Fast Friends: Reunion

by Turner, Stacy

  If she was honest with herself the only guy who had ever done that was Mark, and they had never taken their relationship to that place. After she broke up with Cameron, she had redoubled her efforts to get Mark back in her life and eventually it worked. He was still dating Amanda, so there was no question of them getting together. Slowly, over the summer and during the fall of their senior years things had fallen back into a comfortable rhythm. They talked on the phone, but didn't really hang out together until he broke up with Amanda. By then, they were both nervous about SATs and graduating and it was enough to just be together and talk. Mark didn't press to be acknowledged at school and to be honest was a little more detached from her, but she was happy to have him in her life again. Now she wondered if she hadn't made a huge mistake. Well, another huge mistake.

  There was never letting people know they were friends. That was exhibit A. Then there was treating him like crap after they made out. Exhibit B. Giving her virginity to an a-hole when she could have dated a really cool guy who cared about her. Exhibit C. And exhibit D: not letting Mark know how much he meant to her, not just then, but now and all the time in between.

  Was it just water under the bridge or was there something she could do to show him how sorry she was. She dealt in words for a living, so she knew how meaningless they could be . She needed a gesture, something to show him that she wasn't that dumb girl anymore.

  After her TV dinner she went into the bedroom and pulled out the dress she had been planning to wear. It was a designer cocktail dress and it practically shouted “I'm grown up and fabulous and make more money than you.” She frowned. Maybe that was what she'd wanted to say to the people she went to high school with, but was that what she wanted to say to Mark? Putting the dress back into the closet, she sat at her desk and steepled her fingers. She had an idea, but if it was going to work she would need to start getting ready now. All she could hope for was that he understood.

  Mark rapped his fingers on the counter of the airport car rental office. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, coming home for his high school reunion. Coming home to see Tara. She had been both the raison d'etre and bane of his high school years. Adorable and vicious in her vintage clothes, surrounded by a bevy of vapid girls and boys that never looked past the next football game, she had always seemed to rise above it somehow. Maybe it was just the rose-colored glasses of young infatuation, but she wasn't as easy to dismiss as the others had been. When he'd left high school he'd been as excited about leaving the narrow little city behind as he was about attending the exclusive college he was headed for. No more jocks acting like they were better than him, no more girls acting like they were too good for him to kiss their shoes. He'd expected the world to open up to him, and it had in more ways than he could count. Now the glitter of the big city had faded. He missed his folks and the slower pace of home. His friends in the city would have thought he was crazy if he told them he was even considering a forming a partnership with a friend of his father, a decision that would mean moving back, but they wouldn't understand that moving back meant reconnecting with the person he was before he left.

  That person had been a loser in many people's eyes – Tara's included, he was sure – but the social adversity had taught him his own strength. He hadn't let the narrow perspective of his peers beat him down and he'd rarely lost his temper or taken out his frustration on others. Maybe he'd been tough on Tara a time or two, but in general he was a gentle soul. These days he was realizing that to get ahead in the big city sometimes asked a price he wasn't willing to pay. He'd found himself thinking about screwing over rivals at work. Gone was the guy who met every new face with a smile. He was turning into someone who jostled people on the subway, who complained about people's dogs or sized a woman up based on how little body fat she had or whether she was dressed like the models in fashion magazines. If he did these things it was because that was what everyone else did, but when he looked at himself he didn't always like the picture that he saw. Moving home wasn't the only way he could shake the influence of the big city, but it wouldn't hurt.

  “Here are your keys,” the woman behind the counter said, handing him a key fob and some papers. “Nice choice. That's a beautiful car.”

  “I'm sure I'll enjoy it,” he said, flashing a quick smile. She blushed, dipping her head coyly. It didn't matter that she was probably twenty years older than he was and a little overweight, Mark still couldn't get used to the way women treated him since he got out of college. He'd filled out after high school, due in no small part to taking up martial arts, his skin had cleared up and he no longer wore glasses. It still amazed him that just those few changes had completely altered the way that women responded to him. He could date a different woman every night if he wanted to, but he'd never been the kind to hop from bed to bed. Anyway, he had specific tastes when it came to his sexual relationships that weren't necessarily for everyone.

  It was barely 10 o'clock in the morning when he hit the highway. The attendant had been right. The BMW convertible handled like a dream. It wasn't the usual rental car, but Mark could afford it, and anyway if he moved he'd need to buy a new car. It seemed like a good time to trade up and enjoy some of the money he'd been sitting on. The weekend rental was sort of an extended test drive.

  There was very little traffic on the highway – a welcome change from the city – and he made it to his parents house in good time. The neat little streets hadn't changed much over the years. When was the last time he was home? His junior year of college? Earlier? It had been too long. The familiar streets seemed to welcome him. He recognized the donut shop where he used to grab a snack on the way home from school as a kid. The bench where he had first kissed his high school girlfriend, Amanda, was freshly painted, but still there. He made a left and there, up the cul-de-sac, was Tara's parents' house. Maybe the shutters were a little more weathered and the flowers were different, but it was the same too.

  Mark wondered if she was the same? She'd been balanced on the edge of good and awful when he last saw her, and he couldn't be sure how she had turned out. Of course he'd talked to and texted her a lot over the last few months, but there was nothing like looking a person in the eye to know who they were. He wondered even more if he'd still be attracted to her now as he had been when they were growing up? Probably not. Tara was outspoken and sure of herself, and he'd discovered that he liked his women a bit more biddable.

  And yet he'd come home as much to see her as to explore the idea of moving home and he was definitely only going to the reunion because of her. He could care less about anyone else from his high school class, except maybe one or two of his old buddies from forensics. What were the odds any of them would be at the reunion anyway?

  Mark pulled into his parents driveway and got his bag out of the back seat. Before he'd closed the trunk his dad was at the door, looking life half the man he'd been the last time Mark saw him.

  “Wow, Dad,” Mark said, “you look great.”

  “Me?” his dad said. “Look at you. You could model for Banana Republic.” Richard, never reserved, pulled Mark into a big bear hug, slapping him on the back. Richard was on the shorter side of medium height, with greying light-brown hair and light-grey eyes. Most of Mark's life Richard had been built like a little teddy bear, but he'd lost a lot of weight. Mark studied his face. There were a few more lines there than before, his cheeks were less full, but it was Dad all right.

  “How'd you do it?” Mark asked, letting his dad take his bag and lead the way into the house. “Muay thai?”

  His father laughed. “That's for young idiots, son. I eat my veggies and jog three times a week. Wasn't easy, but after what happened with my heart I wasn't taking any chances.”

  Six months earlier Mark's father had what he thought was a heart attack, but turned out to be something harmless. Nevertheless, the doctors had warned him that his weight and lack of exercise put him at serious risk for the real thing. Richard had obviously taken it to heart. He looked like
a new man.

  “He's here, Marty,” Richard yelled towards the family room. Mark's mother bustled into the room and looked him up and down. A rare smile broke across her stern features. Marty was a tall woman, dark-haired and solidly built. She had never been beautiful, but she had the kind of looks and carriage that made her hard to ignore. Her personality didn't hurt in that area either. She was forceful, strong-minded and stubborn.

  “Look at my son,” she said, giving him a quick hug. “I only wish you were here long enough for me to show you off at the club. Those old biddies would turn green with envy.”

  “I'm successful too,” Mark quipped.

  “Oh, that,” Marty said with a wave of her hand. “That was to be expected. You are my son. And don't think I don't laud you to the moon every chance I get. I'm so glad you came. We've missed you.”

  “I've missed you too, Mom,” Mark said. He hadn't realized until now how much. Being home felt like a part of him was restored, a part he hadn't even realized was missing.

  “So why haven't you come home more often?” Marty asked.

  Richard cleared his throat meaningfully and Marty narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Fine,” she said. “I won't harass you now that you're here; after all we only get you for a few days. Do you want something? A drink? Something to eat.”

  Mark was tired, so he passed on the refreshments and opted for a nap instead. They looked a bit disappointed, but he promised to be up for dinner. He didn't mention the drinks with Max. His dad had put him on to the opportunity, but he didn't want to get their hopes up when he wasn't sure of what he was going to do. Anyway, his mother would just go on and on about why he should move home and the last thing you wanted do was get Marty on a tear. She was like pit bull when she got onto something.

  Changing for his nap, Mark contemplated the evening ahead. First business then pleasure? He wasn't sure how the reunion would turn out. It might be a lot of fun or he might make it home to have a night cap with his parents. It all depended on Tara, really. He was tempted to text her, tease her with some more faux flirtation, but he decided not to. He'd be seeing her in a few hours after all. He snuggled into his bed, his hip sinking into the dip in the mattress that had been there since he was sixteen. He was home. How surreal.

  Smoothing her palms down the front of her tight red dress, Tara stepped up to the welcome table. She recognized the woman sitting behind it. The sparkle of the sequins on her dress was reflected onto the underside of her plump chin.

  “Hi, Lisa,” she said, trying not to let her nervousness creep in her voice.

  “Hi, Tara,” Lisa said, reaching for the name tags. Lisa had put on weight since high school, but there was no mistaking her. She flashed her cute, trademark dimples. “Wow, you like exactly like you did in high school.”

  Tara blushed. That had been the point. She had spent the day hunting down a retro sheath dress like the ones she used to wear when she was in school and had pin curled her hair. She knew she didn't look exactly the same – she had filled out – but she was in good enough shape to pull off the fitted dress.

  “Thanks,” Tara said, not quite sure if it was a compliment.

  “You still live in town?” Lisa asked, handing Tara her name tag and a sheaf of drink and food tickets.

  “Yeah,” Tara said. “Just down the street. How about you?” She didn't see the point of mentioning that she'd gone away to college and lived in San Francisco for a few years afterwards.

  “I'm a couple hours away. Still, I'm kind of surprised we haven't run into each other at the mall or something. I get down here every once in a while.”

  Tara wasn't much of a mall person. If she went it was in and out to get what she needed.

  “Yeah,” Tara said, “that's weird.”

  “No date?” Lisa asked. Nosy as always.

  “I'm meeting up with a friend,” Tara explained.

  “Not Cameron?” Lisa said. “He's already here.”

  “No,” Tara said. “Mark. Mark Griegson.”

  “I didn't know you guys were friends.” Lisa leaned back in her chair, a little smirk playing across her lips.

  “We were best friends,” Tara said.

  “Really?” The smirk got more obvious. “You guys must have kept it on the way down low.”

  “I guess,” Tara said, losing interest in the conversation. “I'll see you later.”

  “I'll tell him you're inside,” Lisa called after her.

  Tara supposed that answered the question of whether Mark was already there. He had texted to say he'd get to the party around 9:00 and she was a little early, so that made sense. It was a strange feeling to be all grown up and standing in the high school gym with all these people whose opinion had meant so much when she was seventeen. She recognized a couple of girls from the cheerleading squad, and some of the football players she used to hang out with. Many of them were overweight and squeezed into clothes that didn't suit their new bodies. Most of them were still pretty. A very pregnant Christie Marsh came over to her and gave her a quick hug.

  “You look amazing, Tara,” she said. “Look at you all dolled up like it's junior year again.” From anyone else Tara might have thought the comment was meant to be catty, but Christie had always been a total sweetheart. They still talked on the phone a couple times a year and Tara had hoped to see her there.

  “Me?” Tara said, “You look beautiful.”

  “Don't tell me I'm glowing,” Christie said, laughing. “If I hear that one more time tonight, I will squeeze someone unconscious between my glowing thunder thighs.”

  Tara laughed, relaxing for the first time in hours.

  “Where's your husband?”

  “He didn't want to come,” Christie explained. “He said I was always complaining about all the bitchy girls I went to high school with and if I wanted to come it was my funeral.”

  “He didn't come to town?” Tara asked.

  “Of course he came,” Christie said. “No way he was letting me drive down by myself, even if it's only twenty miles. He's at my parents' house playing poker with my dad and his buddies.”

  “Good times,” Tara said, smiling.

  “Come on,” Christie said, “let's get you a glass of champagne. I want to live vicariously.”

  The two women wandered over to the bar and stood in line. From the red faces around them quite a few trips had already been made that way. Christie struck up a conversation with someone Tara didn't quite recognize. It turned out it was a guy who had been in some of her classes, but she hadn't known well. He remembered Tara, of course, and kept commenting on how hot she looked and asked if she had brought a date.

  “I'm meeting someone,” was all she said. He was kind of cute, in a buttoned down kind of way, but she wasn't interested. They chatted to a few of the other people in line. One of the girls from the crowd she had hung out with in high school was there, dressed to the nines and going on and on about her husband's “successful auto-dealership.” It was hard for Tara to be upset with her posturing. After all, hadn't she been planning to do the same kind of thing up until the night before? Now that she'd decided she wanted something else out of the evening, it didn't seem nearly as important to prove to everybody that she'd made it.

  After they got their drinks, Christie's was a sparkling cider, they took a seat among the folding chairs along the gym wall. Sticking her drink under her chair, Tara checked her phone. There was a text from about five minutes earlier.

  Mark: I'm here.

  Tara: Where? I don't see you.

  Mark: By the speakers.

  Tara stood up and looked in that direction. She didn't see anyone that looked like Mark. There was a strikingly attractive man she didn't recognize, but everyone else was either too short or too bald. Unless Mark had lost his hair and forgot to mention it.

  Tara: What are you wearing?

  Mark: Black slacks, white shirt, sports coat.

  Tara looked again. It was him. The hot guy.

 
CHAPTER FOUR

  The hot guy.

  No way that was Mark. He was around 6' 1”, so that was right, but how could Mark have turned into the kind of guy who stopped you in your tracks? Where were the glasses and skinny frame? This guy was built like a swimmer – broad shoulders and narrow hips. His hair was cut to compliment the strong lines of his face. His description of what he was wearing didn't do justice, either. The slacks were fitted, outlining the muscles of his legs. The shirt was a crisp white button down, tucked in at the waist. Were those Italian loafers? His dark tie was probably silk, and if the jacket didn't cost as much as the designer dress she'd originally planned to wear, she would eat her Blahniks.

  Mark was tall, dark, handsome and stylish. And here she was looking like she'd never outgrown high school. Who was going to think, when they saw them together, that the queen bee was standing by her nerdy high school friend. It would look more like the has-been was trying to hook up with the hottest guy at the reunion.

  “Who's that?” Christie said, following Tara's eyeline.

  “Mark Griegson,” Tara choked out.

  “Mark? You're kidding, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Man, you must be glad you're still single. What was I thinking marrying that lunkhead, Craig.”

  If she wasn't pregnant, Tara would have popped Christie on the arm. Christie and Craig were as much in love as any two people Tara had ever seen.