The Rest of the Story

S.NH Writers-Thursday/huntemann                                                                                                                         Page 1

First, my six sentence story (or maybe just a prologue):

Heaven or Hell

Years ago I had a crush on a girl back in high school.
Nothing intimate, but we’d talk about all things important to teens.
We’ve kept in touch; phone calls, an occasional letter, but we’ve unfortunately missed meeting on my infrequent returns to Oregon.
Over the years she’s confided she liked me a lot, too.
On August 27th we will meet again at our 50th high school reunion.
My wife will be there to referee.

The Rest of the Story

         The moment we settled into my old room (my sister owns the house now) I called Gail. After fifty years, her number was still the same.

         We talked for a few minutes about our flight, the changes I noticed in the town on the way in from the airport and the schedule for the reunion weekend.

         “But, most important, Don, I want to meet your wife.”
         (She calls me Don, my middle name, like everybody remembered me from high school... as well as all my relatives. I started using my first name when I went to college.)

         It was early afternoon, so I said, “How about we pick you up, in a couple of hours, and take you to dinner.”

         She said, “Better yet, why don’t you just come here for dinner. I have a lasagna ready for the oven.”



         So, at about 7:00, we showed up at her house and I rang the door bell.

         A voice from inside said, “I’ll get the door.”

         A second later, the girl I hadn’t seen for half a century opened the door.

         I was dumbfounded. She looked exactly like I remembered her. She hadn’t aged a moment. Not a wrinkle, a white hair, or an ounce of cellulite that most all of the rest of us suffer with.

         I said, “Gail?”

         She said, “I’m Tina. Mom’s in the kitchen.”

         Gail came into the room, doffed her apron and gave me a hug. My wife, Ferne, shook her hand.

         Time had made its imprint on Gail just as it normally does. I was a little disappointed with that. But Tina was a perfect mini-Gail. The same voice, the same features and, believe it or not, the same interests. She has become a reporter, also.

         We had a grand dinner date. I can’t imagine Heaven being a better evening. I sat between my first love, my present love, and across from the girl in my dreams.



         The reunion the next day at the Country Club was a big disappointment. A room full of old people, I once knew, but don’t remember. Most of us are now retired, half of us are dead, and all of us wonder where the time has gone.

         “How’s your golf game?”

         “Never learned to play.”

         “You hear about Mike?”

         “Yeah, dropped dead on the ninth green. Heart attack.”

         “You still a reporter?”

         “Laid off because of the Internet.”

         “Did you ever build that airplane?”

         “No, not yet. Didn’t have the time, now no money.”

         “Where’s Lance?”

         “His F4 didn’t come back from somewhere over Nam.”

         “You go by the High School?”

         “Yeah, it’s a Middle-School now... with a 5,000 seat stadium.”

         “You seen my wife?”

         “Which one? One, two or three?


         I’m glad I have good memories. I don’t need reunions.


Pages: 3
Words: 468