Candy gestures to a table and chairs on her left and I drop into the closest chair. She takes the other. “What, exactly, did you need my help with, Candy?” I ask politely. Her enthusiasm is practically humming across the table, and I brace myself. Candy and I never had anything in common, and I’d rather not spend hours proving that’s still the case.
“Well, that depends on what you are interested in doing. I need decoration help, someone needs to find a DJ, and then we need to try and get a hold of the people who haven’t RSVP’d.” Candy turns up the wattage on her smile.
“I’m good with people; I can handle that part if you want.” I’m not actually good with people. Let’s be honest — this is the only reason I showed up to this meeting. If I can get my hands on that guest list, I’ll know if Ben is attending. If I know if Ben is attending, I can prepare myself for impact.
“Alright, great.” Candy reaches a manicured hand into the pink briefcase at her feet and delicately plucks a sheet of stapled papers out. She smiles at the paper and hands it over. “This is a list of our graduating class. If there’s a check mark then I’ve attempted to contact them with the information provided. If there’s a number with a circle, they’ve sent me a response.” She points to a number next to Chris Anderson. “See, this 3 inside the circle here tells me he responded for 3.” Candy gives me a smile. “Easy enough?”
I take a second to look through the spreadsheet. I find my own name with its sad little one next to it. Technically, I probably should’ve said 2, I guess I could change that. I see a few with circled zeros. Deciding I should appear thorough, I ask, “What does this mean?”
She peeks at where my sad, bitten fingernail is pointing. “Oh that means they responded but they are unable to attend.” Cue adorable little pout.
“Okay. So a check mark with no number means you contacted them but didn’t hear back?” I clarify.
“Yes ma’am, you are such a fast learner.” The compliment makes me feel like I’m about ten years old.
I cringe slightly, then attempt an awkward smile to hide it. “So you’d like me to,” I’m flipping through, looking for the page of last names beginning with S while I’m talking, “contact all the people you haven’t been able to contact if I can and contact the people who haven’t responded?” Found it! Smith, Benjamin. Check mark, no number. The world tilts for half a second, my heart slamming harder than I’d like. I glance up at Candy and smile.
“That would be great if you can get that done for me. Also, if you could send me weekly numbers with the total of people attending I would appreciate it.”
“Consider it done, Candy. I have a dinner date so I have to run, but it was great to see you again. Talk soon.” I leave the table quickly, clutching my information.
Ben Smith. Contacted but no response. Even more important, a new email address.
Chapter 20
Ben, April 1
“Ben, the email icon is up. Want me to see who it’s from?” Kyle, my level-headed flat-mate, is using my laptop. I’m sitting next to him on the couch, practically asleep. I nod at him to go ahead without even opening my eyes. I’ve been sleeping a lot less since…
“Liz.”
…yeah, since Liz. My eyes snap open. “Did you say something?”
Kyle frowns at the screen. “It says Liz. Do you want me to read it?”
My pulse kicks. “Yes. No. I want to read it. Pass me the laptop.” I can hear the shake in my voice and hate it. I clear my throat, trying to disguise nerves. Kyle hands over the computer.
Benjamin,
I have taken over the RSVP list for the upcoming West High School 10-year reunion and my records indicate you have not yet responded. If you did respond to Candy, please accept my apologies for this intrusive email. If you have not yet responded, I’d love to hear if you are coming to the reunion festivities. Thank you, in advance, for your prompt response.
Elizabeth Banks
The words hit like a fist. Too stiff. Too polite. Liz never called me Benjamin unless she was furious. I reread “prompt response” three times, trying to find the old Liz between the lines, and failing.
This account is only two weeks old. I opened it to keep myself from emailing her. To keep temptation out of reach. That precaution clearly didn’t matter.
I click “Reply.” The empty box stares back.
“Kyle, can I ask your opinion?”
“Shoot.”
“Remember that exchange program in America I told you I did back in school?”
“Yeah.”
“Should I… use my miles and go to the reunion?”
