The One That Got Away


"Do your ski?" he asks.
"I have run down a snow-covered hill with sticks on my feet," I say. "But I am not very good at it."
I may have been voted most likely to succeed in my 1958 high school class, but the voters could not see ahead to the summer of that same year when I got a job as a car hop at Hall's Drive-In. Often the hamburgers, the Hall's Specials, spilled on the floor as I ran with my tray held high in the air, blond hair flying, racing to place it against a car window at the curb. Women were understanding. Men were usually impatient. High SAT scores did not impress them as much as a deft waitress with snappy patter and a size 36 C bra.
But I digress. The questioner was Steve, an old boyfriend from high school and college, and even grade school many years ago. We were sitting side by side at my 50th high school reunion. Dressed in a black shirt and a textured black/gray patterned suit, smelling of expensive men's after shave, white hair cut fashionably short, he looked successful. Not like me, a little on the thick side, especially around the waist. No glasses, squinting, trying to read the Memory Book without them, as if I didn't need them. Hair newly frosted, earrings too big, cascading down on either side of a pudgy neck, drink in hand, trying to bolster my courage to face fellow classmates. Did I have to tell them that for the last 15 years I was an office nurse, doing a job I could have done straight out of high school? That my report card 'A's
didn't really count for much when it came to the real life job of getting along with wayward spouses and fussy children? Did I have to share that I was divorced once, twice married and still didn't feel like I had gotten it 'right'? That my cholesterol was 301? That my 40 year old son hadn't married, maybe the result of my own failed attempt?
I looked over at Steve's wife, smiling confidently, hand around her husband's arm, proud to be in the company of a good catch. She had known what she wanted and went for it. Not like me, who had dated many men in college but could never really decide who would have been the best one, the star to hitch my wagon to, so to speak, the one who would have an interesting job some day that would take us to Europe many times to live and move among the 'beautiful people'. She smiled knowingly, as if to say, "You had your chance and you blew it. Now he's mine. Too bad."
Then I heard Steve say, "Well, come and visit us anytime you're in Oregon. We have lots of room." I pictured a mansion with 24 rooms, all with fireplaces and complimentary perfumes on the dressers, a wait staff to take your coat when you arrived at the door, a stable of horses out back, a vineyard and huge vats of wine lined up, waiting to be tapped. Suddenly, someone at the mike cleared his throat. It was Dick, our Senior class president. A little paunchy, but still very quick witted, at ease with a crowd, and able to recall the smallest detail of old classmate escapades, he moved expertly through the crowd. "Janis," he said, "Would you come forward, please?" My reverie broken, I stood, uncertain as to why I had been summoned. I sucked in my stomach and wobbled on new high heels toward the mike. "Janis, we've taken up a collection. Here's a check for one million dollars. And we have arranged for you to choose to live with any man in the room for a trial marriage of one month. If, after that time, you decide this man is your true soul-mate, his wife will grant him a divorce and you can live happily ever after." I didn't know what to say. I looked at Steve, then at Dick, and back at Steve again. But then a man at the back of the room stood and yelled, "Rip up the check! She's a fraud and I've known it for a long time!" Who was that, I wondered. My first husband? How did he know that I was coming here? Did he follow me? Was he waiting for his chance to humiliate me in front of all these people? "Ken?" I said, "Is that you?"
"Of course! Do you think I'd let you lie about me and our life together? You'd make it my fault that we didn't stay together. You'd say I left you, helpless, with the children to raise all by yourself, when really you were the one who couldn't decide whether to stay or go. You wouldn't commit. You didn't know what you wanted. You never knew and you still don't know. You're just as mixed up as ever!" Stunned, I started to tilt backward and fell into a heap on the floor.
Just then, a voice from far away called "Janis, wake up! You've only got an hour to get to the airport! You wouldn't want to be late for your reunion, would you? All those disappointed boyfriends would never forgive you!" I smiled to myself, shuffled out of bed and reached for my suitcase.