Reunion 1993 Pt. 01

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High school reunion brings back old memories.
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Barb36D
Barb36D
979 Followers

The following story is based on characters and events from "First Time Fun on the Farm" and "Retro Moresome."

Prologue +++++

Home from another uneventful workday, I flipped through the daily mail until I stopped at a greeting card sized envelope addressed to Ms. Barbara Rogers. "Okay, this looks suspicious." Having been married and residing under my married name for over 20 years, it was strange to have anything addressed to my maiden name. Slicing it open, I pulled out what at first glance appeared to be another invite to another niece or nephew's graduation. "So, which one of the kids is graduating high school this year?"

Being part of a large family means having a never-ending line of relatives hitting us up for another twenty or thirty bucks. We may not have seen these kids in person since they grew into teenagers, but now we're supposed to contribute to their college entertainment funds. I tossed the invite aside, opting to get out of my work clothes and prepare dinner.

It couldn't have been a half-hour later, when I got my monthly phone call from Natalie Norwood-"Woody," now Sherwin, one of my dearest friends since grade school. We were as close as two women can be, without being sisters or lesbians.

"Well Betty [from Backseat Betty], did ya get yours? Are you going? We HAVE to go!" When excited, Woody was apt to ask multiple questions.

"What?"

"...the twenty-five year reunion invitation, silly!"

"Oh THAT! Is that what it was? Yeah, it came today," I acknowledged, laying out some salad fixings.

"Well?" She insisted, expecting more enthusiasm from my end of the line.

"God Wood, it's been twenty-five friggin' years; I doubt we'd recognize anybody," I shrugged.

"That's the whole idea, Barb; trying to guess who's who and how they turned out after all these years," she offered.

"I don't know. We went to Donny's 25th last year and it was a total bust. Most of the women were uppity backyard biddies wanting to trade recipes and gossip. They spent most of the time bitching about how unfulfilled their shallow lives were. Most of the guys were balding hoodoos who spent most of the time watching sports in the bar," I recalled.

"Hey, you said some of them were rather 'friendly'," she reminded me.

"Okay, there were a few hotties, but they were ball-and-chained to their wives. It was the portly baldies with liquid courage that were hitting on me -- HA!" I laughed.

"Donny graduated from a big city high school. Ours will be different. Hell, we're talking little Richfield High --we'll know EVERYBODY! Besides, I need an excuse to get out of Dodge. I'm in desperate need of an adventure!

"Things are still shaky on the home front?" I asked, knowing full well I was opening a can of worms.

A deep sigh followed by dead silence told me she was either unable to talk and/or things were even worse than I had expected. "Okay, okay, we'll go!" I relented. "I'll set up two rooms at the (Richfield) Inn, just in case you need to get lucky -- how's that?"

"Oh yes, Barb that sounds like a wonderful recipe!" Natalie's nonsense reply confirmed my first suspicion. Her husband, Bret must be nearby.

We reminisced and chatted for the next half-hour using the same secret code we developed in school. It was agreed, we would reserve adjoining rooms at the Inn, since it was the only lodging in that one-horse home town that offered accommodations close to resembling a suite. We briefly touched on our choices of what-to-wear, before she disclosed that she had some sort of a surprise. Since we had seen each other she had treated herself to a boob job. Either that or she just bought a five thousand dollar melonballer. I could be rusty at deciphering our trusty old code.

You can never go home again +++++

In deference to James Agee or Thomas Wolfe, whoever penned that quote, I personally believe it's perfectly fine to go back home for a visit from time to time; just pack plenty of condoms.

My hubby, having escorted me to previous hometown events, had no interest in attending another boring reunion. Considering my own low expectations, I couldn't blame him. Making the two-hour drive by my lonesome, I psychologically braced myself for a tedious day of aftershocks, pot bellies, and misbegotten dreams. However, catching a glimpse of an aged "Go Bulldogs" poster under the viaduct at Harper's corner, I couldn't resist a wide-eyed smile. Some ambitious soul had marked through "dogs" and spray-painted over "FROGS." What a sweet tribute to the class of 1968. We weren't a class of hell raisers by any stretch; just minor rebels looking for a cause. It wasn't until I checked into the Inn and Natalie showed up that the otherwise bleak September day started to brighten up.

"So Wood, how was the flight?" I asked, watching her unpack. The three-year lag since we'd seen each other soon melted away, as the tall, slender long-haired brunette hung up a number of tops, several pairs of slacks and a low-cut little red dress.

"It was okay; nothing special. It's REALLY special getting away from the asshole and seeing you again!"

"Great to see you too, Wood. No matter what else happens this weekend. It IS special to see YOU!"

"So you have yet to comment on my latest addition, or add-ons I should say," she briskly twirled around to proudly display her new store-bought chest.

"WOW, they look..."

"I know; looks like I swallowed a pair of Sunkist navels," her face reddened.

"Well, now that you mention it, they are definitely round, aren't they?" I reacted at her two gravity-defying symmetrical orbs. "Well hey, they can't call ya 'Flat Nat' anymore," I smirked.

"Of course I could never compete with your big 'ol homegrown hangers, but what-the-hell, I've finally got a figure."

"Yes Ma'am you DO and I'll bet the guys love 'em," I smiled.

"Don't know 'bout that so much; haven't really put 'em to the test. But, I fully intend to this weekend!" She nodded and slid her long shapely legs into a pair of thin jeans. Letting out a deep cleansing sigh, she shut her suitcase and plopped down on the bed next to me. "Just look at YOU! I'm not the only one sporting new dimensions. You must have dropped what... thirty pounds? What the hell?" She claimed, grabbing a chunk of my jean-covered ass. "Ooh, nice and tight too; I AM impressed!"

"Yeah well, I DID lose about that much, but the rest is due to Jane Fonda," I admitted.

"God, I'll bet Donny and Josh for that matter, have been checking you out, Girl. Look at that tight tummy," she added, running her hands down my lower torso.

"Geez Woody, you turned queer on me?" I giggled nervously, as her hands lightly brushed slightly over my mons.

Pulling her hands away to prop her head on a palm, her dark eyes welled, "Sorry, I'm just so God-DAMNED horny, Barb," she confided.

"Bret's being an asshole, is he?"

"He IS a total asshole! The five grand for these babies came from my private stash. It's been over two years now and he hasn't hit on me once --the asshole." A few tears leaked onto her cheek, as she uncharacteristically opened up. "So I've decided; enough of this shit. I'm gonna find the biggest, stiffest salty hunk of man-meat this old town has to offer and nail whoever it's attached to, until he and I can't walk straight," she sniffled away some lingering tears. [Somewhere in a 'push-come-to- shove' universe I couldn't figure a scenario where any of that could actually happen; but I've been mistaken about Woody before. In this exercise, it's probably better to promote her initiative.]

"Now THAT, Young Lady, is the kind of passionate Bull Frog determination we need to beat Sycamore!" I applauded and jumped to my feet.

"Fuc'em, fuc'em, Sis-boom-ba..." Natalie scurried to join me for a well-rehearsed mock cheer for our forever hokey Bull Frog athletics department. A few choruses later we nearly hyperventilated in tears of laughter. Embracing each other in one long lingering hug, we swept our hair aside and kissed like the twin never-to-be cheerleaders we pretended to be.

"I still think we should have gone out for cheerleading; we'd have KILLED them!" Woody declared as we untangled.

"That's the problem. Back then we probably WOULD have killed them-- HA!" I reminded her.

The next few hours we spent recalling the old days. Natalie and I have known each other since grade school. However, due to our different spheres of friends, we were separated during our high school years. We both knew each other's friends and lovers, so we could relate and share plenty of gossip. Thankfully we reunited again in college, where our friendship reemerged and blossomed.

It's In The Bag +++++

The reunion program stated an early evening meet-and-greet cocktail hour with the Class of '68 would be followed by dinner. A formal dance in the high school gymnasium was scheduled a few hours after that. "Hmm, wonder how we are supposed to entertain ourselves for two hours after dinner? It won't take us that long to get dressed." Woody wondered.

"Well I, for one, have an appointment at Sherri's (Richfield's only hair Salon)," I said.

"Wow, for somebody with no interest in reunions, I'm shocked!" She wagged her hand like a limp wristed sissy.

"Hey, it's supposed to be a formal dance. Sherri always knew, well used to know, how to stack my hair. I'll be looking GOOD!" I leaned my head back to proudly thrust my nose in the air.

"Well, La-Di-Da to you, Miss Antoinette! And shall I lay out Ma-Lady's casual regal robe for the evening? Woody joked.

I shot her a devilish grin. "Oh NO, you're not wearing 'The Dress?'

"And why not? I've earned it! I didn't lose all that weight and tone up this damn-near forty-year-old bod just to impress... my son! Scratch that last part," I turned away, knowing she wouldn't let that Freudian slip...slip [hmm].

"Wha-what's this about Josh? You did all of that and turned into the Golden Girl for your SON?" Natalie poked and prodded. "Besides, you're forty-three."

"Don't be silly. It was just a slip of the tongue. Forget it," I shot back. As trusted friends do, she changed the subject...for now.

"Well you saw what I'm wearing -- that little 'better-red-than-dead' thing."

"I know. You'll look incredible I'm sure," I answered honestly. Contrary to my curvy athletic build, Natalie still had a slim model thing going on and always looked great in anything.

We both dressed down for the meet-and-greet. Nat wore a short jean skirt with matching chambray blouse. I wore a white cotton sleeved top and a long printed skirt--nothing fancy.

"And just what's this bag all about, Missy?" Natalie had found and proceeded to rummage through my new personal bag of tricks. Pulling 'Hank's Crank' (an 11-inch long rubber replica dildo) from the bag she wagged it in my face. I winked, but grabbed it from her to repack.

"I'll have you know, I was always an attentive and well-prepared Girl Scout. Life is just a series of emergencies just waiting to happen, ya know. You have to be prepared for anything," I smiled and winked again. "C'mon let's do this meet-n-greet thing," I headed for the door.

"Okay. But, worse come to worse, we may both need to rely on your scouting skills tonight," Woody concluded and joined me. Before reaching my car, I sarcastically reminded her at least three times not to over play her optimistic nature.

Meet-N-Greet +++++

Pulling into the restaurant parking lot, I shut the car off and leaned over to take her chin in my hand. "No sad, pouty faces right? Mommy can't get you properly laid if you don't LIGHTEN UP, Girl!" I shook her chin until she relented and cracked a smile.

"There they are; the two hottest girls in town!" a male voice shouted from the other end of the parking lot.

"Oh God, is that..." Nat grimaced, as we made our way across the tarmac.

"Tommy, it's Tommy Phillips, one of my old steadies," I smiled and waved. "I haven't seen him in twenty-five years," I said, stepping up my pace to greet him.

"Honey, we haven't seen ANY of these clowns in twenty-five fucking years!" Nat barked as I concentrated on the middle-aged man headed our way. "Well, we know who's getting lucky tonight," she murmured enviously.

"Hey, it wasn't ME who said I needed to get lucky. Shut up and undo another button, Miss Julie 'friggin' Andrews," I reminded her.

Woody immediately undid two more blouse buttons and batted her lashes, "The hills are alive with the sound of..." she sang. I shook my head and returned to face one of my former gropers, who by now was broadly striding closer to us. [Well at least he's still got all of his hair and not in bad shape for that matter.]

Nearly out of breath, Tommy went straight to give me a bear hug. I gave him a few complimentary pats on the back, before edging my hands between us. "Well Tommy, just look at you," and so began virtually the same six-word intro you could overhear the entire alumni repeat the rest of the day.

Stealing a turned cheek kiss from me, he backed up to survey both of us. "Hello Miss Norwood, and how are YOU doing?" This was Tommy trying to be polite. Natalie forced a half-smile. [No love lost between those two.]

"Sherwin it is, you dork," Nat corrected him with her married name. He ignored her and took my hands to twirl me around. "I'm married. The name is SHERWIN! God what a dweeb," she mumbled.

Completing my 180-degree turn, he kept a tight hold of my hands, "Sure, SHER-MAN, whatever," Tommy purposely got it wrong. "Look at YOU, Barb! You look just as good as ever, but...even more so!" He added, quick-scanning me from head to toe; then back up to settle on my chest.

"Okay well, it's SO good to see you too, Tom. I'm going inside," Natalie decided and walked away.

"Hmm, there's something different about old Flat Nat. I can't quite put my finger on it..." He puzzled.

"Really Tommy? You're probably right," I agreed and pulled my hands from his.

"Any other old flames of yours I happen on, I'll send them your way," Woody's voice trailed off.

"Hey, you just DO that! The more the merrier!" I yelled back to get her goat.

Tommy's never ending smile and coddling touches proved he was pins and needles at seeing me. I had to admit, he still fell into the cute category. [However, I was to discover a rather sad side to my former suitor as the afternoon faded into evening.]

"So I hear you married some big city contractor and had two kids. Are they as beautiful as their mom? How come you didn't haul his sorry ass down here?" All the right words, but his stilted delivery took me back.

Taking his arm in mine to lead us toward the restaurant I answered, "Yep, Donny and I got married not too long after college. The kids, a boy and girl, are grown and yes they ARE good looking. Donny had some pressing commitments so he stayed home. Now Tommy, how about you?"

"I-I'm okay." He hesitated to take a breath. "My wife and I... well, we're kind of separated. No kids. I operate a Chevy franchise downtown. That keeps me pretty busy," his practiced response seemed genuine. "That reminds me, Barb. I've got a surprise for you later," he winked and ran his hand down my spine to settle on my hip.

"Oh, what IS it? I LOVE surprises! C'mon Tommy, tell me now, tell me!" [God, was I twelve years old?]

"No, no it will wait. I'll tell you after dinner," he swore, as he grabbed the door for us.

Stepping inside the restaurant foyer, I felt like I'd been transported through a time-warp portico into the Twilight Zone. There were all these strange yet somehow familiar faces. Trying to recognize the heads and faces, I would swear that was so-and-so, but their bloated body shapes did nothing to help me confirm their identities with any certainty.

A female voice rang out, "Tommy, Tommy Phillips, get your funky ass over here!" Tommy let out his token mule snort of a laugh and left my side to disappear into the crowd.

[Oh my God, I'm all alone here--staring blankly at a table full of name tags--I dare not look up--Shit! Where's Woody? - Why did I ever come? Whose hand is that? That's MY name on that paper.]

"Here you go, Rogers," said the female voice handing me a sticky 2X4" nametag. I looked up at the seated gray-haired lady. What does this old lady have to do with the Class of '68? "This IS you, right? Here, take it," she demanded. Taking the sticky tag my eyes flashed to her nametag, "Marie Anderson." [Who the hell is Marie Anderson and why is she so angry?] Then, like somebody just slapped me upside the head with a yearbook, I jolted from my nightmarish trance.

"Marie, MARIE! I remember you!" [Who could forget the homecoming queen and the ass that launched over a hundred Bulldogs!] "Well, Marie, just look at you!" I smiled, as she got up from her chair. That's when I saw what the long receiving table had conveniently hidden. Marie had developed a bit of secretary spread. That is SO not true. The girl back in high school that had the 'ass to die for' now sported a double-bubble thunder-butt and thighs about the size of Canada. This extra-wide loader was way beyond ba-don-ka-donk. It took my full concentration just to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, as she waddled out from behind the long table.

"Yeah, it's me, Barb. No big deal. I think Jimmy Stafford was looking for you," she rolled her eyes. Muttering something under her breath, she "walked" toward a coven of former cheerleaders.

Trying my best not to stare at her colossal derrière, I felt someone standing behind me. The male voice whispered in my ear, "Ah Marie... see, that's proof there IS a vengeful God," he snickered. I nodded and turned to recognize a portly, half-balding gent with his date.

"You got THAT right! Poor Marie, I feel kinda sorry for her," I said gazing deeper into his familiar eyes.

"Jim said you were quite the looker, and he was right," the lady next to him butted in. "You MUST be the infamous Barb Rogers! Hi, I'm Alma Stafford. You remember this guy, don't ya?" The matronly dressed woman in a dark printed floor-length country frock shook my hand, as I turned to see him.

"Jimmy is it you?" My voice jumped a full octave as our eyes locked.

"Yep, it's me! I'm just hiding inside this fat guy. Good to see YOU after all these years, Barbie." His eyes flash-scanned more of me, before giving me a token yet reluctant hug.

"Good Lord James, here's your old girlfriend, you haven't seen in years, looking like a total fox I must say, and that's the best you can do! Go ahead and kiss the woman!" Alma shoved him to hug me close.

Jimmy sheepishly pulled away from my arms, noticeably upset. "Stop it please, Alma; you're embarrassing me," the whipped husband calmly asserted.

After a predictably anxious pause, I took his arm, much the same as I did with Tommy. "So, tell me everything I missed. It's only been twenty-five years," I asked, leading the two of us away from his dear wife.

"This is such bullshit. I give up. Where's the damn bar?" Alma griped and stormed off.

"Don't worry about her. A few drinks and she'll simmer down," Jimmy excused her poor behavior. I nodded and restated my initial inquiry. "Gosh, where to begin? Actually I'm sure your life has been much more exciting. YOU go first," he yielded. "You probably think I'm lying, but actually I'm kind of a lonely guy," he declared with a shrug.

"Jimmy, no one ever lies about being lonely." I suddenly recalled a line from 'From Here to Eternity.'

As women find it easier to recount the past, I dove in with both feet and shared a random rambling collection of my cherished events over the last twenty-five action-packed years. [Of course I felt it only apropos to relay the G-rated version.] Jimmy's story, short as he told it, was even more edited than mine.

After high school we both attended and graduated from different colleges. He came back to town and married Alma (formerly from Sycamore County) before taking a job as an insurance broker in Chicago. When asked about kids, his eyes sparkled as he spoke of his daughter, definitely the love of his life.

Barb36D
Barb36D
979 Followers