Closing the front door behind me while kicking off the wicked red shoes, I winced. What had possessed me to wear heels, anyway? Bleeding toes bandaged, I burrowed into my softest robe to think a minute. Tired as I’d been, I wasn’t the least bit sleepy while recounting the evening down to the tiniest detail. Not the sauce smothering the chicken and rice, but thinking about him. VST. The tall one.
My elderly client had nearly driven me to anger only a few days before. On a normal work day, she started outlining the positive points of attending the reunion. After all, I was a beautiful, single woman. She droned on and on about the possibilities of meeting Mr. Right. I had assured her that there would be no Oklahoma Cowboy showing up in surrey with the fringe on top to whisk me away. It wasn’t lost on me that after 61 years of marriage, these elders, Emilie and Bill, sat at the breakfast table gazing into each other’s eyes every morning while holding hands their coffee cups. Although not high school sweethearts, they were certainly octogenarian lovers. They could feel my loneliness, hoping I would find what they had someday.
“Well, you MUST attend. I’ll help you pick out something to wear. You’ve been working so hard. The boys are such a handful. Please. Just go and have yourself a little fun. Just for a night! And maybe…” My body language screamed STOP, while she smiled so sweetly and then did the most infuriating thing. She winked. WHAT. WERE. THEY. THINKING? These two old farts that I loved dearly always shared their opinions freely. Remembering life together, from depression poor to old age rich, they shared their stories. I usually listened. This was different.
Men. I could do without them. I had my DUSTY MONEY, shining wealthy client possessions. I had two little men in my life. They were my soul. Their smiles ignited my will to do my best for them. I had my own house, such as it was. A full set of dishes and towels. A set of my own tools. A new car. My own feet to take me dancing whenever I wanted.
Dancing??? My mind waltzed back to VST. Funny how he dwarfed PA, his new neighbor. PA had all the lines and moves down, avoiding marriage so far. Years of flashing a smile showing perfectly whitened teeth against skin glowing tanned always got the girl. VST might be tall, but PA could reel in the most unwilling woman with his charm. Anyone who’s attended a class reunion understands the difficulty in placing people. Most times those that were hot are not while those that weren’t hot often are. Then, there are those that command looks no matter how many years have passed. VST and PA filled that category.
Remembering VST’s hazel eyes, I wondered whether the kindness known in high school was still there. The blue shirt had showcased youthful skin and soulful eyes. A tenderness could be hidden there. It was when they had shared sheet music during choir.
WAIT. WARNING. WARNING. DANGER. Something was definitely amiss. VST was with PA, who was known to everyone as the cattle baron playboy. STOP. HOLD THE PHONE. VST was now a grown man. A player. Suddenly sleepy, I decided it was time to turn in. There would be time enough to consider this situation in the morning. Staring at the ceiling through the dark, I hoped sleep would find me soon.
Drifting off, I recalled school days choir. Songs sung. Laughter. VST coming to class freshly showered, just finishing PE. Letterman’s jacket boasting athletic awards on school letters. His smile. His dimples. The way his hair curled ever so slightly as it dried. His booming bass voice. His shy friendship with me.
VST, still back at the Ranch, rocked a night dancing with many partners, promising to contact them all. His pocket overflowed with a variety of phone numbers from old friends. Women were so easy. In his telling of our story, that night was tinted with blue after our dance. The bluest eyes he’d seen left him wanting to see them again. I remained on his mind long after the music stopped.
To Be Continued……..