[NOTE: The following is a work of original fiction. The author claims any and all relevant copyrights and/or trademarks. Personages therein mentioned are purely fictitious. Any and all resemblance thereof to real people, living, dead or yet unborn, is purely coincidental. Remarks and constructive criticism may be sent to smartguy200391@hotmail.com. --DAH]
OUT OF THE PAST by David Hinterman
I hate reunions. I always feel out of place at them, having to wear an uncomfortable suit and feign interest in the lives of people long forgotten. Whenever one comes up, I try to get out of them, schedule something else in its place so that I have a legitimate excuse to not attend. Every now and then, however, one crops up that I simply do not have enough time to scheme my way out of successfully. Such was the case with my twenty-fifth high school reunion.
It was exactly like every other reunion I had ever not managed to avoid: the tables were covered with white linen, the centerpieces were only slightly smaller than Rhode Island, the band played a never-ending collection of truly schmaltz-o-rama songs, the invitees spent the bulk of the evening giving inflated updates of their already inflated careers to people who couldn't care less. All the way to the banquet hall I coached myself. I would stay the three hours I deemed respectful and remain as unnoticed as possible. Not a big deal. I had done the routine before.
The plan was thrown out completely within the first ten meters; I was intercepted that soon. Upon seeing him approach me, I went into Reunion Mode and combed through my archive of old acquaintances. Ah, yes. Jason Levin. Of course. We had actually been rather good friends during our "four years of hell." After graduation we had lost contact, him remaining in town at the University of Chicago, me moving to Massachusetts to attend Brandeis University.
"David! Long time no see, eh? How in the world have you been?"
"Jason, it has truly been too long. I've been fine. A few bumps here and there, to be sure -- but on the whole, just fine. What's been going on in the life of the famous Jason Alexander Levin?"
"Oh, nothing you wouldn't have predicted years ago. House in the western 'burbs of the Windy City, job in business management..."
He went on for a bit. I only half-listened, desperately trying instead to recall the rest of my file on him. All I could come up with was that we had been on the track team together. Not much to remember from four years of great friendship, but that was it. Unfortunate.
"Well?"
I blinked twice in quick succession. "Well what?"
He laughed, then abruptly sobered. "Did you ever get it?"
"Get what?"
"The letter I sent you a while ago. Did you ever get it?"
I wracked my brain. My response was slow and drawn out. "No... I don't think so.... When did you say you sent it, again?"
He looked up as if asking for divine inspiration. "Uh, jeez. Must've been at least twenty years. God, has it been that long? Yeah." His eyes returned to the plane of the table we had found. "Twenty years, give or take a few weeks."
I consulted my mental calendar. Twenty years ago... that would make it around mid-summer 2008..... "I was getting ready to start graduate school. Involved moving to New York. Could it have gotten lost in the mail?"
He shook his head and I began to wonder why he would remember something so esoteric. "No. I'm sure I had it sent with that return receipt thing. I got it back, your John Hancock right there at the bottom. But I never got a reply other than that."
"I honestly have no idea. What did you say in it that it's important enough to remember for two decades?"
He paled a bit, then blushed. "Um... well..." He took a sip of wine. It seemed to do him good. "My crush."
I blinked again. "On... me?"
He blushed an even deeper shade of red and took a larger drink. "Yeah." His voice was smaller than it had been. "When I didn't get a real response, I figured you'd taken it pretty..." He gasped softly. "...pretty badly. Oh no! I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable, bringing it up like this. Jeez, I'm such an idiot." He got up. "Now that I've embarrassed myself even more than usual, I'd better go. Goodbye. I doubt you'll want to see me again after this. Say hello to your wife for me." He gestured at my ring. He started to walk away. By the time I thought to tell him he was being far too hard on himself, that I couldn't even remember receiving (much less reading) his letter, he had already left. A bit shaken, I looked at my watch. I had been there just under an hour. I left anyway.
When I got back to the hotel I was greeted by my spouse's wonderful English accent. "That was fast. What happened to the three hour rule?" We kissed hello.
"I couldn't take it anymore."
John read my mind with those soul-piercingly blue eyes. "Who?"
"Jason Levin."
"Levin... Levin... Jay Levin?" I nodded. He frowned, recalling a vague memory. "Isn't he that guy you had a crush on back in secondary school?"
Copyright 2003 DAH. All Rights Reserved.