out his window.
“I’m ready,” Bridget said.
Now that we were moments away from seeing people for the first time in ten years, I felt my stomach tighten with nerves and wished it wasn’t too late to do a shot of whiskey. I had been so focused on having drinks with Nicholas that I forgot I first had to make it through the reunion. I whispered to Bridget, “You’ll still have my back with Hannah, right?”
Turning to look at me, Bridget asked, “When have I ever not had your back with Hannah or anyone else for that matter?”
I smiled. “Never. Thanks.”
“It’s cash bar, right?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. The reunion committee decided it wouldn’t be fair to include alcohol in the cost of admission since not everyone drinks,” I said.
“Bunch of losers on the reunion committee!” Bridget complained, causing Jonathan to laugh.
“Agreed.” I said.
We drove in silence for the next few minutes, apparently lost in our own thoughts. My head was spinning between who I was excited to see, who I dreaded seeing (Hannah and her sheep) and what was going to happen later that night if I got together with Nicholas. I wondered if we’d hook up and if so, how it would happen. Before I got too far into my fantasy, the cab driver pulled over, stopped the car and turned around. “You wanted Soho Grand?”
“We’re here folks!” I said. Handing him a twenty and a five, I said, “Keep the change.” I carefully stepped out of the cab and onto the street. When the others joined me, I looked up at the hotel and said, “Here goes nothing.”
CHAPTER 10
JONATHAN ENTERED THE HOTEL FIRST while Bridget and I, arms linked, trailed slightly behind.
Pointing to a display that was set off to the side, Jonathan said, “We’re in the Club Room.” According to the sign, the Mitchell Berman Bar Mitzvah was in the Harbor Room while our reunion was in the Club Room. Although at that moment I would have preferred joining Mitchell and his 13-year-old friends dancing to the Hora, we followed the signs to the Club Room, stopping outside of the banquet room to retrieve our name tags from the long table set off to the side. It seemed everyone else was already inside or hadn’t arrived yet since no one else was looking for a name tag.
“Seriously? They spelled my name wrong,” Bridget said, holding up her name tag.
I stopped searching for my own ID to laugh at the misspelling of “Bridget” as “Bridged.”
“Bridged! Ha!” Jonathan laughed. “If it’s any consolation, they got my name wrong too,” he said, holding up his tag where his name was also spelled incorrectly as “Jonothan. “Let’s see if they at least got Kim’s name right.”
“How difficult is it to spell Long?” I said. Spotting mine, I held it up proudly. “No mistakes!”
“Is that you, Kimberly?”
I turned around to face Plum Sheridan, one of Hannah’s dim-witted cronies. We had shared the same study hall period senior year and temporarily bonded over prom dress talk. She looked the same, tall and slender with thin straight blonde hair and eyes so bright they seemed to defy the emptiness that lay beneath. So far I was zero for one with girls in my graduating class getting fat.
“Kim Short, right? You look adorable as ever!” She put a hand to her mouth and looked at me apologetically. “I meant Long!” Reaching down to hug me, she said, “I don’t know why I can never get that right.”
While I half-heartily hugged her back, knowing the reason she never got it right was because Hannah had “accidentally” called me Kim Short all through high school, I reached out my hand to punch a laughing Jonathan in the arm. When we separated, I said, “Hi, Plum. How’ve you been?” Gesturing toward my dates for the evening, I said, “You remember Bridget and Jonathan right?”
Plum nodded her head eagerly even though her face showed no recognition whatsoever.
“Dumb Sheridan! Been a while. So nice to
“I’m ready,” Bridget said.
Now that we were moments away from seeing people for the first time in ten years, I felt my stomach tighten with nerves and wished it wasn’t too late to do a shot of whiskey. I had been so focused on having drinks with Nicholas that I forgot I first had to make it through the reunion. I whispered to Bridget, “You’ll still have my back with Hannah, right?”
Turning to look at me, Bridget asked, “When have I ever not had your back with Hannah or anyone else for that matter?”
I smiled. “Never. Thanks.”
“It’s cash bar, right?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. The reunion committee decided it wouldn’t be fair to include alcohol in the cost of admission since not everyone drinks,” I said.
“Bunch of losers on the reunion committee!” Bridget complained, causing Jonathan to laugh.
“Agreed.” I said.
We drove in silence for the next few minutes, apparently lost in our own thoughts. My head was spinning between who I was excited to see, who I dreaded seeing (Hannah and her sheep) and what was going to happen later that night if I got together with Nicholas. I wondered if we’d hook up and if so, how it would happen. Before I got too far into my fantasy, the cab driver pulled over, stopped the car and turned around. “You wanted Soho Grand?”
“We’re here folks!” I said. Handing him a twenty and a five, I said, “Keep the change.” I carefully stepped out of the cab and onto the street. When the others joined me, I looked up at the hotel and said, “Here goes nothing.”
CHAPTER 10
JONATHAN ENTERED THE HOTEL FIRST while Bridget and I, arms linked, trailed slightly behind.
Pointing to a display that was set off to the side, Jonathan said, “We’re in the Club Room.” According to the sign, the Mitchell Berman Bar Mitzvah was in the Harbor Room while our reunion was in the Club Room. Although at that moment I would have preferred joining Mitchell and his 13-year-old friends dancing to the Hora, we followed the signs to the Club Room, stopping outside of the banquet room to retrieve our name tags from the long table set off to the side. It seemed everyone else was already inside or hadn’t arrived yet since no one else was looking for a name tag.
“Seriously? They spelled my name wrong,” Bridget said, holding up her name tag.
I stopped searching for my own ID to laugh at the misspelling of “Bridget” as “Bridged.”
“Bridged! Ha!” Jonathan laughed. “If it’s any consolation, they got my name wrong too,” he said, holding up his tag where his name was also spelled incorrectly as “Jonothan. “Let’s see if they at least got Kim’s name right.”
“How difficult is it to spell Long?” I said. Spotting mine, I held it up proudly. “No mistakes!”
“Is that you, Kimberly?”
I turned around to face Plum Sheridan, one of Hannah’s dim-witted cronies. We had shared the same study hall period senior year and temporarily bonded over prom dress talk. She looked the same, tall and slender with thin straight blonde hair and eyes so bright they seemed to defy the emptiness that lay beneath. So far I was zero for one with girls in my graduating class getting fat.
“Kim Short, right? You look adorable as ever!” She put a hand to her mouth and looked at me apologetically. “I meant Long!” Reaching down to hug me, she said, “I don’t know why I can never get that right.”
While I half-heartily hugged her back, knowing the reason she never got it right was because Hannah had “accidentally” called me Kim Short all through high school, I reached out my hand to punch a laughing Jonathan in the arm. When we separated, I said, “Hi, Plum. How’ve you been?” Gesturing toward my dates for the evening, I said, “You remember Bridget and Jonathan right?”
Plum nodded her head eagerly even though her face showed no recognition whatsoever.
“Dumb Sheridan! Been a while. So nice to
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