He watched in the mirror as the blood followed a slow,
convoluted path and dribbled down his neck.
The hand holding the razor froze, as a paralyzing thought pounded his
brain. What if she doesn’t recognize me? Frightened
and horrified, he stood in his underwear and stared into the mirror.
Moments later, his attention returned to the razor
cut dribbling a growing amount of blood onto the soft folds of skin that
coursed across his neck. Rick Steps
snatched a wad of toilet paper and dabbed at the blood. Too much blood. He collected another wad and pressed it
hard against the stinging razor nick, holding it until he thought it would stop
bleeding.
He left a torn sheet of toilet paper stuck to the slit in
his neck, knowing from experience it would stanch the flow of blood and allow
him to continue shaving. Negative,
troubling thoughts continued to plague him until he finished up, removed the
toilet paper, and made sure the wound would not bleed anymore.
The high school reunion dinner would begin at six tonight
at the local country club. Everyone
would have to walk up the grand entrance stairs to the upper level where the
welcoming committee would be waiting.
Chrissie Manuess would be among them.
The room was not warm, but a cold sweat broke out, sending
rivulets of perspiration running into his eyes
He grabbed a hand towel and pressed it against his face and wiped the
sweat from his eyes.
“Jesus Christ, it’s only 7:30 a.m. and I’m already anxious about this whole
thing.”
After taking a deep breath, he let
the cold water faucet run while dipping both hands into the cooling spray and
splashing his face and forehead.
I am an important attorney of law. I’ve argued cases in front of the Minnesota Supreme Court and
won, for God’s
sake! Why am I so nervous about a
stupid, high school class reunion? It’s been thirty years! The
perspiration made a reappearance on his forehead. He splashed more cold water on his face. I’m forty-eight years old, been married, divorced, raised
children. I am successful and reasonably
good looking.
He threw up in the toilet.
Vomit had splashed his underwear so he peeled them off and
slipped another pair on. Dressing
quickly before another wave of nausea returned, he went to the kitchen and
poured himself a cup of French Roast before plucking yesterday’s local newspaper from the front
porch landing.
He retreated to his den where he sat in his favorite chair
and began reading. Unable to concentrate
on any story except the one concerning the upcoming 30th high school reunion,
he turned the page and read.
The reunion would begin with a dinner at the Stanton
Country Club Friday night at 6 pm.
Tonight!
It ended Sunday with a bicycle ride through the woods of
the nearby nature center; a beautiful, hilly trail that also passed through
restored prairie lands and tall, old growth pin oaks. The area had once been owned by a financially
successful family who donated it to the city.
It was appropriately named, The Stanton Nature Center. Along with the Stanton Country Club and
Stanton grocery stores, it was the most robust symbol of the power of one
family to dominate a community, and then give something back.
Steps laid the paper on the wide arm of the chair he sat
on, leaned backward, and tried to analyze his irrational fear of meeting
Chrissie Manuess again. He had been a
wallflower in high school, extremely shy and unable to make friends or talk to
a girl. He had wanted to try out for
sports but was cursed with a total lack of confidence in his physical
abilities. He had never considered
himself ugly, and one of his aunts had always gushed over “how good looking”
Ricky was, but it was never enough to
liberate him from his shell and take chances.
Beginning in eighth grade, Chrissie Manuess had always
fascinated him and made his heart ache with desire, but, it wasn’t until a momentous day in high
school when a ring hit the hallway floor near his locker and came spinning
toward him that a social opening occurred.
Quickly, he bent down to pick it up, and as he rose, saw Chrissie
Manuess smiling that million dollar smile as she walked to him.
“Uh, is this yours?”
he stammered as he held it out for
her. She took it with all the grace of
the Queen of England.
“Yes, it is, thank you so much for
getting it for me.”
Her gaze lingered as she waited for
him to say something clever, or so he thought.
For days, weeks, months after “the incident” he kicked and cursed himself for his response.
“Uh, that’s okay.”
Rick turned to his locker and resumed imputing the
combination to the padlock. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Chrissie Manuess remained standing while she watched Rick,
then finally, slowly, sadly, walked away as Rick ignored her.
My God, how could I have been so stupid, he thought. She threw her ring down in front of me so
I would pick it up, give it back, and then we would talk. I’m sure that’s what she did. She
made the first move and I blew it. Well,
I’m not
going to blow it this time…I hope. But wait,
maybe she’s
married now with several kids and how could I…
The doorbell rang.
He got up and rushed to the front door and opened it. A Fed Ex driver held a package and an invoice
to sign. He scribbled his name, thanked
the driver as he accepted the package and brought it inside. It must be the running shoes he had ordered
online. He had never ordered shoes
online before, never trusted the sizing, but gambled on these. He tore the package open.
Adidas Ultra Boost: lightweight, perfect balance and
fantastic support. He turned one shoe in
his hands, admiring the sleek styling and feather-like weight. I’ve gotta try these right now. Running will help me relax a little.
He changed into his running clothes and burst out the front
door. His run began down the front
sidewalk, across the street and then onto the twisting roads of the
cemetery. It was devoid of living,
breathing humans, except for himself.
Runner’s
high hit him like he was flying through clouds.
All his anxiety disappeared as his speed increased. He felt as light as a blade of grass when he
exited the other side of the cemetery, flew onto fourth street, and headed
north to the fairgrounds.
He ducked onto the entrance driveway, slowed his pace, and
listened to the farmyard noises that emanated from the buildings that were
stocked full of sheep, cows, pigs, and their Future Farmers of America teenage
handlers. He wound around and in between
the buildings, finally leaving the fairgrounds through a backstreet alley that
took him behind a tiny strip mall. After
two miles of slow jogging, he hit his turnaround point and looped back toward
his house.
Rick began running full tilt, maintaining all-out effort
for two blocks before backing off and slowing his heart rate. He kept up interval training for the last
mile and a half of his run, alternating between full-out sprints and a near
walking pace.
When he reached his driveway, he finished his last sprint
and walked to the front door. Checking
his FitBit, he noted his pulse was a hundred sixty-five, smiled approvingly,
and walked in through his unlocked front door.
Showering for the second time that morning left him
refreshed, as he took his time and reveled in his relaxed state of mind. The anxiety experienced earlier, did not
return, leaving him with the comforting thought he was over it and would be
fine when he attended the dinner tonight.
He spent the remainder of the late morning and afternoon
reviewing an upcoming case and then rewriting some of his own recreational
essays he planned to share with his writing group next week.
Five p.m. caught him by surprise as he was still deep in
thought. Closing his laptop computer
with an intense slam of the lid, he worried about damaging it, so quickly
opened and checked to make sure everything still worked. Satisfied that it did, he closed it carefully
this time, and rushed into his bedroom to dress for this evenings dinner.
While checking himself out in the mirror, he saw that the
razor cut on his neck was no longer noticeable.
Moving to the full-length mirror in the hallway, he admired the figure
he cut in the impressive power suit he chose to wear tonight. Chrissie Manuess beware! Not a scintilla of anxiety affected
him. He was pleased. Retreating to routine and making sure he
looked good in his new suit had done wonders for his mindset.
He popped a breath mint in his mouth, plucked his car keys
from the hook next to the refrigerator, and stepped into the attached garage
where his Audi R8 Spyder with six speed manual transmission and Quattro all
wheel drive awaited. If she sees me
drive up in this, she will be impressed.
The car’s
starting price was $129,000 and he had added several, expensive options.
After settling into the luxurious drivers seat, he opened
the near-silent garage door and eased the Audi R8 out the driveway and onto the
empty street. Driving carefully, he used
fifteen minutes to accomplish the normally ten-minute drive to the Stanton
Country Club. He parked in his normal
spot.
Flushed with confidence, Rick exited the Audi and did his
lawyer walk to the massive front doors of the club.
“Rick?
Is that you,” Henry
Wallace asked as he met him while opening the door in Rick’s face.
Rick flashed a smile, but didn’t remember the classmate, so he gave
him a questioning look.
“Henry Wallace!”
The man blurted. “I’m not
surprised you don’t
recognize me. I’m a hundred forty pounds less than I
was in high school.”
Rick tried to remember, but honestly couldn’t match a face or obese body to the
name. So he lied.
“Henry,” he marveled. Looking
him up and down, Rick sounded sincere when he said, “I can’t believe it. You
look great! How’d you do it?”
“Low carb diet. Julie and I both went on it six years ago and
the weight just flew off.”
A pretty woman stepped between the two men. Rick couldn’t help but notice the shapely figure and blond hair as she
stood for a second and looked at him.
“Julie?” He ventured a guess.
“I can’t believe you remember me,” Julie gushed. But
then she added, “I was
so fat back then with no friends… except Henry.” She
looked up at Henry, making it obvious she adored him.
“Well, I was pretty different then
too, I can hardly believe that Henry recognized me right away.” An
awkward silence engulfed them for several moments until Henry and Julie excused
themselves to retrieve a couple bottles of Seven Deadly Zins from the trunk of
their Lexus.
Reverting to the shy, high schooler he had been thirty
years ago, Rick stuttered, “Uh, okay. I’ll see you inside later, Henry…and Julie.”
Get a hold of yourself.
You are Rick Steps, Attorney at Law.
Despite his self admonitions, his legs were wobbly as he
ascended the stairs where the welcoming committee awaited him. A diminishing line of classmates was ahead of
him. The line was long enough so that he
could not see any of the welcoming committee.
He chit chatted with a man and his wife directly in front of him as the
line seemed to, no, definitely sped up, and Chrissie Manuess, in all her beauty
appeared. Shoulder length hair was still
blond, although maybe touched up a little, he thought. Her lips appeared more
full and sensuous than he remembered.
And her figure, My God, what a knockout she still was.
His knees wobbled and his heart pounded, as he keenly felt
beads of perspiration form on his forehead.
It’s a
good thing I brought my handkerchief. He surreptitiously removed it from his jacket
and dabbed along his hairline and brow.
He barely managed to comprehend a word said to him by the
couple in front of him, as his eyes remained focused on Chrissie. Chrissie!
She was eight feet away; beyond gorgeous in a pale, blue
designer dress cut just below the knee.
A white corsage pinned to her shoulder strap appeared to reflect her
perfect skin tone. She smiled and shook
hands or hugged every classmate in line, laughing that perfect laugh.
She was so close that the scent of her body wash, perfume,
or whatever glorious concoction she wore wafted past his senses and drifted
directly to his brain. Check for
rings. Check for rings! No
rings! Hallelujah!
“Rick Steps!”
Her smile was warm, sincere, and
disarming as she took hold of his elbow and pulled her toward him.
“Chrissie, you are as beautiful as the
day we graduated.” He
was astounded that he had been able to speak, especially without
stammering. I must be on attorney auto
pilot, he thought.
Her smile broadened as she clasped his hand tightly.
Leaning into him, she whispered in his ear, “We have to talk later.
Please find me.”
A bit taken back, Rick nodded weakly and said, “I will… for sure.” Her hand guided him to the next welcomer who delivered a
warm handshake and welcome, before pushing him to the next and then the
next.
It was over! Just like that. It was over! After stopping
off at the bar for a whiskey sour, he drifted into the spacious dining area
where several former classmates ignored him. That was okay, because he really
didn’t
recognize any of them. The uncomfortable
feeling he had while standing in line returned as he realized that this was
probably the worst idea he had ever had in his life. Who was I kidding? I really didn’t know anyone in high school. Why would I expect anyone to recognize
me? But Chrissie did! How? Why? Later, I’ll find her and we’ll talk.
All around the room, conversations buzzed and classmates
laughed. He overheard people saying, “Remember when…”
God, this is ridiculous! He
was hot; perspiration reappeared on his forehead. He dabbed it again while
leaning against a wall. An interminable five minutes passed. Okay, that’s it.
I’m out
of here!
He set his empty glass on a circular server’s table as he hurriedly walked to the
top of the grand staircase. Five steps
down, he heard a voice call.
“Rick, wait!” Chrissie
Manuess, wearing what he deemed to be a very concerned look, rushed down the
stairway and placed a hand on his shoulder. They stood, looking at each other
for several moments before she spoke again.
“Please, we need to talk. I’ve waited too long for this, and I
suspect you have as well.”
She waited for him to speak.
It was exactly like high school again. He swallowed and opened his mouth, but
nothing came out. As his breathing
quickened and perspiration speckled his brow, he turned to leave.
“No, that’s not going to happen again!”
Her grip tightened around his
shoulder, stopping his momentum. “I’ll
walk outside with you. I have something I need to tell you.”
Her tone was earnest; her look was
serious.
Rick was experiencing what he perceived to be an asthma
attack. He used all of his willpower to fight it, but it was overwhelming his
body and sapping his strength.
As he reached the bottom of the stairway with Chrissie’s support, he panted, “I’m sorry, I have to sit down, now. I can’t breath.”
The concerned look on her face was
evident as she helped him sit on one of the sofas near the restrooms.
She left him, saying, “I’ll be
right back.” She
hurried to the kitchen area, returning within twenty-seconds with a paper bag. “Breathe into this.”
He accepted the bag and began
breathing into it. His lungs seemed to
loosen as his pulse dropped and he became noticeably cooler.
“You look a hundred percent better,”
Chrissie said through a sympathetic
smile.
He laughed lightly. “Thanks, I don’t know why this happened. I uh, uh…”
“It’s okay. I think I know,” she said. He gave her a puzzled look.
“You know why it happened? Are you a physician now?”
“No, not at all, but I can recognize a
nervous reaction when I see one.”
He started to protest, but stopped and stared into her
face. She exhibited the most empathetic
expression he had ever witnessed. As he began to say something she shook her
head and stopped him.
“Years ago, when I threw my ring to
the floor in high school, I didn’t realize how extremely shy and unconfident you really
were. When you turned back to your
locker and never said anything more to me, I was heartbroken, and angry. Years
later, after I had married and had a child who was so hidden within himself, I
thought of you, and how that’s why you probably were the way you were. I educated myself and eventually helped my
son overcome his shyness. He’s now an attorney, like you. That’s why I wanted to speak to you
tonight before you left. I wanted to
thank you for helping me understand my own son.”
Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him.
He stared back in wonder, and then asked, “Would you like to return to the
reunion and talk some more?”
She shook her head no.
He slumped and sighed as his head dropped slightly.
She said, “I’d
rather leave here with you and go someplace quiet where we could really talk.”
He nearly cried with joy as he said, “I’d love to.”
She grasped his hand as they walked to his Audie R8 Spyder.
