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The Paperback Edition…

Now I wouldn’t know if Bobby was going to be here tonight or not.  I didn’t know anything…except that Melanie wasn’t going to be here.

As of three days ago, Bobby hadn’t responded to the formal invite.  Maybe I could call Mike?  He would know…no…no…and would he even tell me if he did?  Anyway, I didn’t have his phone number.

What to do?  I looked around the room and it was slowly filling up.

I stood up, grabbed my cane, hooked my little purse over my shoulder and headed for the bar…a nice glass of wine would taste really good right now.

I waited my turn and was not surprised to find that I could not recognize anyone as I glanced around the room.

With my crappy vision and so many people from other classes, I started to wonder if maybe I was going to be the only one here from our class…aside, of course, from the friendly Pat Duncan.

No problem.  I didn’t think I was going to stay too long.

I ordered a glass of ‘house red’ from the cutest, little twelve-year-old girl.  (Okay…she just looked twelve.)  

She also handed me several napkins which I probably would need since she had filled my wine glass almost to the top.

I took a small sip and  started to walk…ever so carefully…so as not to spill my wine…over to a small table off to the side.

Suddenly, someone got on the PA system and hollered “WELCOME EVERYONE!!!  GO HAWKS!!!”

Then the speaker shrieked that loud, ear-piercing sound…as they so often do…only this time louder than I had ever heard before.  It was like those monthly air raid sirens that almost deafen you.

I probably was a little tense, so the jarring noise made me misstep…just a little…nothing significant…but just enough for Mark Hansen, the most obnoxious boy in our class to notice.

He had been walking toward the bar and had seen me stumble.  Unfortunately…I was soon to discover…he was still obnoxious…and very loud.

“HEY, SAMANTHA JONES!!!” he hollered and pointed to my cane.  “It looks like you’ve been cut down a little.”

His remark was loud enough to draw lots of attention to me…and then he grabbed my cane out of my hand and started to twirl it around like a baton.  Was he drunk out of his mind already?  Who did things like that?

“LET ME HELP YOU TO YOUR SEAT, MADAM.”  He said at the top of his voice…as if talking to a large crowd…something he had always done in high school.

And unfortunately,  whoever had been talking on the loud-speaker had stopped…and all anyone heard was Mark’s loud voice booming throughout the room.

He held my cane out for me to grab…but just a little out of reach.  What in the holy hell had I ever done to him, I thought.

I stood there for a moment…wondering if I should just turn around and walk carefully out of this disaster that I had foolishly created for myself.

But then…but then…

 

 

 

By |

The Paperback Edition…

“Hey, Sammy.”  From behind me, I heard that deep familiar voice…wrapped up in his favorite cologne, Old Spice.

No one had ever called me Sammy…no one except Bobby.

I turned slowly around.  And there he was…looking at me so very seriously…so not like the Bobby Flanagan I had known.

“Bobby.”  It was all I could say…and it was almost a whisper.

Suddenly, I was feeling a lot unsteady without my trusted cane…the one that Mark was continuing to tap on the floor in front of him.

Did he think he was fucking Fred Astaire?

I reached out for Bobby’s hand.

“Can we sit down?” I said a little shakily and motioned to an empty table nearby.

Bobby glanced back at Mark but then took my hand and we walked to the table.

I could sense him looking at me.  What was he seeing?

Was he seeing the ‘old Samantha Jones’ that my ex-husband could no longer love?”

“I like your necklace…” Bobby said.

I turned to look at him.  Even in the dim lightning, I could see that Bobby, like all good Irishmen, had aged well.  Some grey hair, a few pounds here and there but he could still wear a blazer and tee shirt and look good.

No shirt and tie for Bobby tonight…that didn’t surprise me.

I sat down and then watched as he walked back over to Mark Hansen who was still playing with my cane.

Bobby carefully took the cane away from Mark and then slammed it against Mark’s knee.  My mouth fell open.

Mark cried out in pain, swore profusely but then limped quietly away.  A few people actually clapped.  Mark had not been a favorite in high school.

Bobby turned and walked back toward me…the signature Bobby Flanagan grin now on his face.  He handed me my cane.

“Now I know why I hated high school,” he said as he pulled out the chair next to me and sat down.

I couldn’t believe this was happening.  It was like years had disappeared and we were at the Portland High School Homecoming Dance…the last dance that Bobby and I had gone to together.

The boys had been instructed to wear suits since it was a semi-formal affair and Bobby had bristled at the idea.

Typical Bobby behavior at that time…he bristled at everything…except me.

He had worn jeans and a blazer he had borrowed from his dad…with a white tee shirt and a tie loosely hung around  his neck.  One week later he had enlisted in the Navy.

He gave a nod to the cane and looked at me with concern in his eyes but he didn’t ask any questions.  I answered them anyway.

“Stroke.  Almost a year ago.  Nothing major, thank God.  Just a little weakness in the left side and my vision is crap…but I can still pretty much drive.”

I gave him my standard…”everything will be okay” smile…the one I had been giving to everyone these last few months.

Bobby didn’t say a word.  He just looked at Sam and then he slowly reached over and put his hand ever so gently over hers…not sure if it was the right thing to do…