I looked guilty when Marilyn commented, “Been here before, have we?” I hemmed and hawed, and she just rolled her eyes and said, “Well, how much does it cost?”
“If you have to ask the price, you can’t afford it,” I told her.
She gave me a “Hmmppphh!” at that, and then looked at the sticker in the window, at which point she gave a small shriek and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” The sales rep never batted an eye; I at least had the good taste to blush with embarrassment. “Oh, hell, do what you want!” she said, shaking her head.
“Seriously?”
“It’s your money! Feel free to waste it!” She juggled a laughing Charlie and said, “Daddy’s being silly!”
So I bought myself a dark blue 380 SL model. Dealer prep — waiting for the check to clear — took a few days. The day I could pick it up, Marilyn and Charlie drove me down, and then I drove it back, stopping at Tusker’s to give him a ride. He agreed with me, it was like an orgasm on wheels. He also, even more importantly, offered me a place to store the hard top if I wanted to drive it with just the soft top or topless.
So, if I was going to the reunion, I was taking the 380 and Marilyn and I would dress for an afternoon and evening out. The reunion was bound to be a bust, so we could do a date night afterwards. Marilyn had joined Our Lady of Grace over in Parkton, and had a babysitter in the form of the fourteen year old daughter of a friend in the parish. Becky arrived around 11:00 or so, and Marilyn gave the poor girl a complete breakdown of Charlie’s entire life and every conceivable emergency. I finally rescued Becky by dragging Marilyn out the door.
The reunion was being held at the Loch Raven Tennis and Swim Club, north of Dulaney Valley Road on the Jarretsville Pike, north of the reservoir. Becky had assured us she would be fine for the afternoon and into the evening, and in fact was looking forward to it, since it was worth extra money for her. It was about a half hour drive to get there, and Marilyn had a rather self-satisfied smile on her face most of the time. I couldn’t figure it out, since I just couldn’t understand why Marilyn had wanted to go to my reunion. My wife was astonishingly unromantic about the schools she went to. She never went to any of her reunions, or even her graduations for that matter.
It was just before noon when we pulled into the parking lot. It was surprisingly full, with about a half dozen motorcycles parked over at one side. “It looks like Tusker and his friends are here already,” I told Marilyn, pointing at the bikes.
“I never have figured out how you ended up hanging out with the bikers! It’s not like you ride.”
“Not in a million years!” I said, laughing. “I might be an organ donor, but I want to hang on to them a little while longer. Listen, I’m just not that judgmental, and mostly they weren’t either. I remember one time when the vice principal, a real tool of an asshole, was giving out a lot of shit. He had this little VW Bug, so I rounded up a few of the bikers and a few of the lacrosse players, and we picked it up and carried it over to the school entrance and wedged it between a couple of the pillars at the front door, sideways, so it couldn’t be driven out. He was so pissed!”
“You’re so pleased with yourself over that, aren’t you?!” she responded primly.
“You’re damn right I was pleased. I’ll bet you never did that with the nuns.” Marilyn was almost apoplectic at the thought, so I just laughed at her some more, and teased her about getting back at the nuns, perhaps by smacking them with rulers. Thank God I never had to put up with parochial schools!
I parked the car and we got out; I left my cane in the car for later. My knee was better early in the day, generally, so I might not need it until later. I reached out and we held hands as we walked across the parking lot. There were a couple of really gargantuan tents behind what looked like a clubhouse, and several tennis courts and a swimming pool over to the right. Nobody was playing tennis or swimming, though, and it was a beautiful day, so it made me think that the reunion group had reserved the club for the day. Regardless, the only way to go in was through the clubhouse, so I opened the door and ushered Marilyn inside.
There was a big banner stretched across the far wall, ‘WELCOME BACK TOWSON HIGH 10 YEAR REUNION!’, and below that was a long table with what looked like spread out name tags. Behind the table were three girls, women actually, and they looked familiar. Also on the table was a pitcher of beer and several Solo cups. I looked around the clubhouse for a second, and then walked towards the table. I figured it to be a registration table.
Before I could say a word, a short brunette squealed, “Oh my God! You made it! Carl Buckman!” The other two women grinned madly at this. The little brunette came scampering around the table and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s been so long!”
What the hell?! I glanced over at Marilyn, mortally embarrassed by whoever this woman was, now embracing me in front of my wife. Marilyn, however, was anything but shocked. She was grinning madly at me.
The little brunette stepped back. “Carl! I can’t believe you don’t remember us!” She tapped a name tag on her substantial chest — ‘TAMMY (BRAXTON) BRONSON’.
I glanced at the name tag and it all came flooding back. It was Tammy Braxton, one of my old girlfriends! She was also about six months pregnant! Oh, God, could it get any worse? I was being hugged by an old girlfriend in front of my wife! Nothing to do but brazen it out! “My, God, Tammy, I can’t believe it! You look great! So you ended up marrying Randy after all?” I turned to Marilyn. “This is my wife, Marilyn. Marilyn, this is one of my friends back in high school.”
Marilyn smiled. “I thought so.”
Tammy looked my wife over and said, “Well, she’s definitely your type!” which caused Marilyn to grin broadly, even more so at my discomfort.
“Huh?”
“Short, curvy, brunette!” answered Tammy. She threw her arms out in a modeling pose.
Then I noticed that one of the other women behind the table had come out, too. She struck the same pose, and on her name tag it said, ‘SHELLEY (TALBOT) MOORE’. She was now back to being a frosted blonde, but she told Marilyn, “I was a brunette when we dated.”
I looked over at Marilyn and swallowed. “We were just friends.”
“I’ll just bet you were friendly!” said Marilyn. Behind the table the third woman, a tall and slender blonde, simply smirked and tried to stifle her laughter.
“I’m so glad you could come! Tessa said she was going to get you to come. It’s been so long!” said Tammy.
Tessa? She was involved in this? I began to smell a rat! “Oh?” I glanced over at Marilyn, who was grinning and nodding and laughing at me. “Tessa talked to you about this?”
“You know it! She told me I’d get to meet all your old girlfriends and talk to them about you. I couldn’t wait!”
“Oh, sweet suffering Jesus! No, please God, no!” I said. I could see my life flashing before my eyes! “Marilyn, I swear, we were just friends!” I reached over to the table and poured myself a beer into a clean cup.
Tammy inserted herself between my wife and I, and Shelley got on the other side of Marilyn, and they began steering her through the clubhouse towards the rear. “We have got so much to talk about!” said Shelley.
“We used to call it the Carl Buckman Experience,” I heard Tammy say, just before they left the room.
At that I spewed the sip of beer out and across the lobby. “Oh my God! This just keeps getting better and better!”