We Go Way Back

High school reunions are so pointless. Who even does these anymore? The idea of it is a strange concept, let alone three reunion parties with acquaintances who barely remember me. It seems like overkill, but it might be fun to reconnect with my former friends, although I only remain in contact with a couple. 

Despite my reluctance, my mom remains firm in her demand that I attend. I’ve been by myself and disconnected for a while now, so she’s right. After ten lonely years, I ought to go out and talk to people. I can not focus on my work recently because of the severity of the situation.

“You’ll have fun,” Mom looked concerned. “You’ve been so miserable lately, and I hate to see you so upset like this. I think it’ll be great to see what everyone is up to.”

Great. I can tell them I still live with my mom, living off of freelance wages while someone else is probably a fucking award-winning surgeon or an astronaut. Meanwhile, I’m just an artist who’s sold only two paintings. As much as I think that my work has been motivating me, it can push me down too. My dream is to sell my artwork to some art galleries and be able to see them on display. I would just love for one of my pieces to be in a permanent position at a museum, but it would be even better if it’s one of the bigger museums in the country. The only thing is, I haven’t worked on a painting in over six months, since I’m in a creative rut. I have no clue what to even paint anymore. I need some inspiration.

“I don’t give a shit what they’re doing. It’s not like I have anything to show for.” I lazily threw my clothes into my bag and my mom gave me a stern look.

“Amelia, you’ve created some beautiful paintings. I love them so much. I have a feeling that you’ll become very successful in the future.” No doubt she’s trying to lift my spirits with her smile and cheerful attitude.

“I can barely sell any of my paintings. That’s why they’re all sitting in the basement collecting dust.” I rolled my eyes.

“You should be more positive.” She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, ready to offer one of her recent “glass half full” motivational talks. If only it were that easy, and I’d feel motivated to create more or put myself out there to sell my paintings. Ever since moving here about ten years ago, my motivation and happiness have drained me too much to where I’ve been breaking down lately. My mom is always trying to help, which I appreciate, but I’m also too depleted to listen to her advice.

“I don’t need a pep talk right now, Mom.” A slight frown spreads across her face, and I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m nervous about going. It’s probably not going to make me feel better.”

“I know, but believe me, it’ll be good for you.” She started as she rested her hand on my shoulder and smiled.

“Mom, believe me, no one is really interested in what I’m up to.”

She looked like she was going to say something then looked at my long, dark brown hair. “You need to brush your hair.”

I turn to her stared her blankly, “Got it.”

“What about Brooke?” She hands me my brush from my dresser.

“She’s not even going, it’s not worth it.” I started to tear up.

“And Taylor?” She puts her arms together and gives me that look of anguish when she starts to pity me.

“We haven’t talked much lately, so I don’t know.” I shrug and continue with packing. “You don’t understand. I hated high school. I never dreamt of going back. Everyone bullied me and it was so damn miserable for me. I don’t want to see those people again and they certainly don’t want to see me, I can almost guarantee that.”

“Amelia…” She flashes me a look of despair.

“No, Mom, I seriously don’t want to hear it right now. I just want to get this over with.” I get frustrated with her, which I try not to do ever since Dad passed away.

Our family was very close, and the connection between my dad and me was stronger than between my mom and me. My dad, much like my mom, was always supportive of me. This was especially when I told them I wanted to be a painter, halfway through my time in community college. But then he passed, and it was like my entire world got noticeably more grey. He went into cardiac arrest, so it was sudden.

As Mom says, I haven’t been happy for a long time. It hasn’t been the same without Dad. I’m almost positive that it will never be the same. My dad was the first person I‌ lost. This led to a downward spiral of depression that has only intensified.

Not one bit of me blames my mom for wanting to leave Iowa after he passed. It was a hard time for both of us and I know just as much as I did, my mom was looking for a change of scenery. We both wanted to leave there and never look back.

I completed packing my bags and double-checked that I had everything. Given that I’ll be by myself in the hotel room today, I packed my sketchpad just in case inspiration strikes. It’ll kind of be nice to have some time to myself before entering the chaos in the reunion.

It’s just about six in the morning, and Mom and I hop into her SUV to the airport. It’s my first time flying alone, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ve flown many times before. The only difference this time is that I’m not super excited about going. It’s not like I’m going on vacation. At least my mom is happy that I finally agreed to go, and that’s all that matters to me. Even though I’m not happy myself, I enjoy seeing her happy. She really lost herself when my dad died, and I had to take care of her.

Looking at the sunrise as I’m riding in my mom’s minivan is so beautiful and quiet, especially this early in the morning. The sun is barely peeking over the hills, and I watch it flash ‌between the trees as we speed down the highway. Oranges, reds, and pinks paint the sky, blending perfectly like a painting, and I crack a smile in awe. For a moment, I feel a bit of peace and a small spark of inspiration.

That feeling fades promptly as my heart pounds because it just occurred to me that Chris might be there. Chris was possibly one of the sweetest and hottest jocks in high school. I wanted him so badly, but I haven’t thought about him in years. I’d completely given up. He exclusively dated the most popular girls in high school so it’s no surprise that he didn’t see me as a potential girlfriend. I wasn’t the most popular girl, but that was fine. Being popular wasn’t my goal. My goal was him, but I refused to get caught up in that crowd. Besides, they all bullied me anyway.

I’m not thrilled about seeing anyone else there excep‌t Brooke and Taylor. The only thing is me and Taylor weren’t as close as Brooke and I. Who knows if Taylor will be there, since we don’t keep in touch as much as Brooke and I do. The last time we talked was about a month ago. But it would be nice to chat with her again.

“Amelia, are you okay?” Mom looks over at me with a look of concern as my eyes start to water. “Look, I know you don’t want to go. You’ve made that very clear. I’m serious, though. I have a good feeling you’ll have a great time.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go at this point, it might be nice but I just don’t think it’ll help me.” I clean the tears off my face with my sleeve.

“You haven’t been the same since Dad died, and I know that. But it hurts me to see you like this. Getting out of the house and talking with people will help.” she says.

“I know…” I begin, but stop when I realize it’s no use, and since I can’t hold it anymore, I break down in tears.

“Amelia, I didn’t mean to-”

I cut her off. “I know you didn’t,” I sniffled. “You’re right, Mom...you’re right. I-” I let out a slight whimper. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know, Amelia, that’s why you’ve got to get out of the house, go see your friends, and have fun for once. It’s breaking you down by being stuck in the house.”

I wipe the rest of my tears off my face and stare out the window for the rest of the ride. It felt good to get that out since I’ve been holding in my feelings for so long. Perhaps she’s right, my mom has never been wrong before.

We pulled up to the airport drop-off, and I took a deep breath as I hurried to scramble out of the car. These car drop-offs at the airport are always stressful, with the hustle and bustle of everyone else trying to hurry out of their cars and people beeping at everyone who’s in the way. Mom goes around to the back to help me with my bags. She hands them over and gives me a hug to wish me safe travels.

It’s strangely quiet in the airport lobby, and it’s unsettling considering I expected this trip to be chaotic, but I’m finished just yet. I check ‌one of my bags and head to security. I held my head high in a pose of confidence. Maybe I can do this after all, this isn’t so bad.

I think about Chris again, and shivers travel up my spine. My grip on my carry-on tightens as I enter the security line, attempting to ease my anxiety. It’s not like I’m seeing him today or if he’ll even be there. I have one day to relax before attending this silly reunion, and I won’t waste it worrying about him.

Just the thought of him makes my heart skip a beat and fills my chest with a pleasant warmth. Who knows how hard my heart is going to pound if I see him again? Despite only speaking to each other in biology class about biology-related topics, Chris represents my ideal man, and I know it. I gained insight into him from Trevor, his once close friend and one of my exes.

To this day, I still really want him to glance my way. Even though I look better now than I did in high school, I don’t think it’s enough to make him notice me. But damn it, he sure grabs my attention. He was tall, about six feet, with long, dark hair on top swooshed to the side, with the bottom half of his hair short. It’s funny how many years later, I still really want him, but nothing has changed.

I approached the security guard and handed him my ID. He looked down to check it against my ticket. “Good morning. You’re all good to go. Have a good day.” I nodded and moved through the security line.

I find my way to my gate and grab a seat in a row that’s completely empty. Perfect, I have about two hours until I board. It’s better to get here early than to rush through the airport. I don’t need anything adding to my anxiety. I have some time to relax and let it cool off, as if I could get Chris out of my mind. I had completely forgotten that he could be there, until I was already on the way.

My phone dings in my pocket. I bet it’s Mom.

“Have you got to your gate yet?”

“Yeah, I just got here. Love you Mom.” I text back. She responds with a thumbs-up emoji, and I smirk. She’s such a dork, that’s certainly where I get it from.

“Love you too. Hope you have a good time. I know you will!” I smirk and stand up to look around to see if there’s anything I can eat, since I have all this time. There’s a coffee shop that’s open about twenty feet from my gate, and I’m starving too.

As I’m scanning through the menu, I noticed a couple in front of me holding hands and leaning into each other. They look like they could be in the honeymoon phase. I keep hearing them call each other by their pet names and say, ‘I love you’ every ten seconds. I cringe every time they talk to each other. It’s not that I wouldn’t want a partner, but right now it’s sickening to hear since I’m single. It also just hurts, I’ve been in relationships before but they never had any real feelings involved. I don’t know what it feels like to be truly in love, and I certainly don’t know what it’s like to feel loved too.

I tried online dating for a while and I got a few matches, but none that I was interested in. Then there was this one guy I dated after I had just moved to Washington. He was great and all, but I don’t think he was really interested, and it was mostly just sex. I didn’t see a future there, so I wasn’t at all upset when we broke up. At twenty-eight, it seems wasteful to date if it’s not going anywhere further than dating. I do eventually want to marry.

It would be fantastic if that person were Chris. Even if I haven’t thought about Chris in years, I still would love being with him, just as much as I did in high school. I bet he could treat me better than anyone else ever could.

A couple of hours pass, and we’re finally boarding. I brush ‌the crumbs from my breakfast off my lap and gather my bag, looking back at my seat to make sure I’m not forgetting anything.

I feel another pull in my chest as I make my way to the gate. There’s that thought about Chris again. Will it ever go away? My chest tightens more as I can’t even bear the thought. He always had the perfect life, the perfect girlfriend, and I am far from that for him. Considering I hadn’t thought about Chris in years, it’s not a surprise that going back to Iowa is bringing these feelings back up. I seem to have forgotten that I am still so infatuated with him.

Will it do me any good to try to talk to him if he’s there? Is it a good idea, or will I just be the dork like I was in high school? As if I had a chance then, why would I now? I would put money on a bet that he’s probably married to a supermodel or something. If he’s not married by now, I’ll be really surprised.

I don’t even believe that he knows we’re still friends on social media. He was so occupied with posting about his girlfriends and football games that he probably saw none of my posts. There’s no indication or any hint that he would be into me. Perhaps that’s different now, and maybe I could try to talk to him at the reunion. It’s been years, so it could be possible he’s changed.

The majority of my relationships have been mostly sex, not many emotions attached, I have a strange feeling he could give me that. A lot of the other jocks were gigantic assholes. Assholes with beautiful bodies. But Chris? He’s a sweetheart and goddamn beautiful, like the gods sculpted him meticulously, inch by inch, and thinking about getting to feel every inch of his-

“Next!” the attendant calls as I snap out of day-dreaming about Chris.

I shake off the warm feeling I get when I think of him and snap out of it. It’s been too long since I had sex, so it’s not surprising that I’m thinking about Chris in that way. Unfortunately, I’m not a scrawny broad, so I'm nowhere near his 'type'. I’m more of a thick but fit type. I move forward and present my ticket to the attendant. She nods and waves me on to board and I brace myself for a long trip.

Am I wasting my time waiting for a guy who doesn’t even know I exist? I have to shoot my shot at this reunion. I have to at least try. As Mom would say, ‘You don’t know if you don’t try.’ I hate when she’s right, but it’s true.