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No way I would not be attending that fiasco. Hell to the no. Just what I needed, to be reminded of the shit show that was my high school life.
“You’re coming back home for it, right?” So much hope.
“No, I’m not. I don’t want to see those people.” Nor did I want to return to the horrendous podunk town I’d grown up in.
“What do you mean by those people? You grew up with those people. They were your friends your entire life until you left town. And besides, don’t you want to see me?”
“’Course I want to see you. I’ll get you a ticket to New York anytime you like.”
She didn’t fly, which was probably just as well because I could really only afford to get her a bus ticket. And she loved the bus.
Mimi dropped off my hotdog. Mmmm. Salty New York deliciousness. I nodded my thanks, and she disappeared back to her own cube.
“I don’t understand why you are so opposed to coming back home and seeing your old friends. You needn’t be embarrassed you’ve never gotten married.”
It was so cute, her assumption that I didn’t want to come back because I was single. Maybe she’d feel better if I told her about my sham marriage to Simon. In her world, that would probably be better than nothing.
Going to the reunion as a single woman was the least of my worries.
“Mom, you know I don’t fit in there anymore. I have a new life. What could I possibly have in common with them?”
“Now, I don’t know why you think you’re so much better than those people, but just because you went to New York and started your own company doesn’t mean you’re anything special.”
Gee, thanks.
“Expect a call from the reunion committee,” she continued.
“What? How? Mom, you didn’t give them my contact info, did you? I expressly asked you not to do that.”
“Sorry, but you’ll some day regret neglecting your old friends back home. I gave them your phone number and address.”
Note to self, do not answer any unknown callers.
“I asked you not to—”
“I know Becca would love to see you.”
The mention of Becca really crashed my mood even more so than the stupid dating auction and Simon’s extortion. And the ugly bridesmaid’s dress.
“Oh, Mom.” I groaned. There would just never be any meeting of the minds on this.
But I couldn’t go back. For one, what would I possibly talk about?
How I was no longer the slut I was in high school? How I’d gotten it together, gone to college, and started my own company in New York City?
Becca, on the other hand, had had four kids before she was thirty. Our lives had gone in radically different directions, just as I always knew they would.
But the guilt of leaving her, my mom, and the town itself gutted me. I’d worked so hard to get out, and yet I felt crappy about it.
“Hey, Mom, I have a meeting. I gotta go. Talk to you later. Love you. Bye.”
I waited for her to return the sentiment, but all I heard was bye.
