about. So I called, and you didn’t let me down.’
7”” ,-aucu any of the others?
Fish? Lisa? Tani? I know they’d love to hear from you.’
‘It’s been so many years since I talked to any of them.’
‘But we were the Senior Scourges, all five of us. I know they’d want to help if they thought they could. I’ll give you their phone numbers.’
‘You mean you have them? All of them?’
‘I’ve been in charge of the class reunion invitations twice already. They pick on me because I still live around here and I’ve got more than half a dozen kids of my own to help me address envelopes. Fish lives in Brussels ,
Wisconsin
; Lisa lives in Atlanta ; and Tani’s in Green Bay . Here, hang on a minute and I’ll give you their numbers.’
While Brookie searched, Maggie pictured their faces:
Lisa, their homecoming queen, who resembled Grace Kelly; Carolyn Fisher, a.k.a. Fish, with a turned-up nose which she’d always hated, and across which she’d written in everyone’s yearbook; Tani, a freckled redhead.
‘Maggie, you there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘You got a pencil?’
‘Go ahead.’
She reeled off the girls’ phone numbers, then added, ‘I’ve got a couple more here. How about Dave Christianson’s?’
‘Dave Christianson?’
‘Well, hell, who says you can’t call the guys? We were all friends, weren’t we? He married a girl from Green Bay and runs some kind of ball bearing factory, I think.’
Maggie took down Dave’s number, then those of Kenny Hedlund (married to an underclassman named Cynthia Troy and living in Bowling Green, Kentucky), Barry Breckholdt (from upstate New York, married with two children), and Mark Mobridge (Mark, Brookie said, was a homosexual, lived in Minneapolis, and had married a man named Greg), ‘Are you making this up?’ Maggie demanded, wide-eyed.
‘No, am not making it up! I sent them a wedding’s card. What the hell - live and let live. I had a lot of laughs with Mark on band trips.’
‘You weren’t kidding when you said you kept track of them all.’
‘Here, I’ve got one more for you, Eric Severson.’
Maggie sat up straighter in her chair. The laughter left her face. “Eric?’
‘Yeah, KL5-35oo, same area code as mine.’
After several minutes Maggie declared, ‘I can’t call Eric Severson. ‘
‘Why not?’
‘Well... because.’ Because long ago, when they were seniors in high school, Maggie Pearson and Eric Severson had been lovers. Groping, green, first-rime lovers, terrified of getting caught, or pregnant, lucky on both counts.
‘He lives right here in Fish Creek. Runs a charter boat out of Gills Rock, just like his old man did.’
“Brookie, I said I can’t call Eric.’
‘Why not? Because you used to go all the way with him?’ Maggie’s jaw dropped.
“Brookieee!’
Brookie laughed. “We didn’t tell each other quite everything back, then, did we? And don’t forget, I was on his dad’s boat the day after the prom, too. What else could you two have been doing down in that cabin all that dine? But what does it matter now? Eric’s still around, and he’s just as nice as he ever was, and I know he’d love to hear from you.’ ‘But he’s married, isn’t he?’
‘Yup. He’s got a beautiful wife. A real stunner, and as far as I know they’re very happy.’
‘Well, there.’ Amen.
‘Maggie, for cripe’s sake, grow up. We’re adults now.’
Maggie heard the most surprising words leave her mouth. ‘But what would I say to him?’
‘How about, hi, Eric, how they hangin’?’ Maggie could almost see Brookie flip a hand in the air. “How the hell snoma, know what you’d say to him! I just gave you number along with all the rest. I didn’t think it would such a big deal.’
‘It’s not.’
‘Then don’t make it one.’
‘I...’ On the verge of arguing further, Maggie thought better of it. ‘Listen... thanks, Brookie.
Thanks so much, and that comes straight from the heart. You were exactly