Loose Ends

When Kat had called to tell me about the five-year University reunion, my reaction had been, “So?”

“Whaddya mean, so? You have to come! It’ll be a laugh. We’ll be able to find out how everyone’s getting on, what they’ve done with their lives and stuff.”

“Why do you want to know how everyone’s getting on? You’ve never bothered before and nor have I. I’ve only ever kept in touch with you and Alex, and there’s a bloody good reason for that.”

“Stop being such a stick in the mud! Come on, not everyone was that bad. There might be some interesting stories to hear. Somebody could be rich or famous. Or both!”

I stopped resisting. When Kat had a plan, it was futile to object.

So there I was with Kat and Alex, heading into the Student Union bar. I pushed open the double doors. It was as if we’d walked into some kind of time warp. The bar itself looked almost the same, a lick of paint here and there, but nothing major. As for the people, they seemed to have changed even less. Sure, they were better dressed (well, some of them were) and a little older, but everyone was the same.

The loner was still loitering at the very end of the bar, not engaging with anyone. The geeks had gravitated toward one another. The popular kids were strutting their stuff, their conversation no doubt as mindless and dull as it had always been. Kat, Alex and I were still hanging around together.

Nobody seemed to have brought partners. I hadn’t actually seen any information regarding the event. My intel had all come from Kat, so maybe partners weren’t invited. Or perhaps everyone just wanted to come alone and re-enact their young, free and single days.

Either way, it was going to be a looong night. I headed for the bar with Kat and Alex close behind.

“What’ll it be?” asked the barman, who looked to be a current student earning some extra cash. I suddenly felt old, despite not looking that much older than him.

“Make mine a vodka and Coke, no ice, please.”

As I turned to the girls to find out what they wanted, I saw the class busybody walking toward us. She smiled and waved.

“Better make that a double,” I amended. Then under my breath, “I think I’m gonna need it.”

Soon I remembered why I hadn’t been up for this in the first place. The busybody was driving me up the wall. My face and neck hurt from all the smiling and nodding. Jenny, or whatever her name was, was currently on maternity leave from her (wonderful) job. Her “perfect” husband had stayed home to look after their “delightful” children so she could come to the reunion and see how everyone was getting on. Despite this statement, she hadn’t asked any of us a single question. She was too busy talking about herself.

I zoned out of Jenny’s inane chatter and stared into the middle distance. Suddenly, something moved into my line of sight that snapped me back into the land of the living. Or should I say someone.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, gaining a disapproving look from Mrs. Busybody and puzzled ones from the girls.

“He’s fucking here!”