Chapter 3

Dinner was forgettable and the live band hired for the after-dinner dancing was, in a word, execrable. Despite being a terrible dancer, I gallantly danced with each of the three women at our table: Betsy, Marsha, and Shirley.

Shirley was getting a lot of stares from the other people on the dance floor, and I could tell she was regretting having come to the reunion. "Do you want to go and sit down?" I asked her, reacting to her obvious discomfiture.

"Actually, I want to just leave," she said. "I think coming here was a mistake."

"Are you staying here in the hotel?"

"No. I'm still at my mother's place -- until I leave tomorrow. I'm going to Cape Girardeau tomorrow."

"Long time until the semester begins."

"Well, I've already got a place -- an apartment," she said. "Now I'm going to try to find a job."

"You driving over?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "Are you?"

"Yes. I just drove over from there this morning. I'm staying at a motel out on the highway."

"Maybe I'll see you, after we're both back in my new hometown," Shirley said.

"I'd really like that," I said, trying to let her know I meant it. I asked her to jot down her new address and telephone number, and she obliged.

"It was fun, seeing you, and the guys, again," Shirley said. "Thanks for rescuing me from my empty table."

"It would have filled up eventually," I said.

"Maybe. But it was... kind of you to invite me to join you."

"The pleasure was all ours, Shirley. I've had a crush on you since tenth grade. And you're even more lovely now than you were then."

"God, you silver-tongued devil, you! Why didn't you come sweep me off my feet, sophomore year?"

"I don't think I was up to the task, in those days," I said, truthfully. "You seemed -- unattainable."

"Sometimes, unattainability is only in the eye of the beholder," she said.

"I'll add that to my list -- my long list -- of regrets about roads not taken," I said.

Shirley and I returned to the table, she said her goodnights to us all, and she was gone.

It wasn't even 10 p.m. yet.

"Something tells me Ms. Kiner wasn't having a very good time," Marsha said.

"I think she felt like she was getting stared at a lot," I explained. "She was expressing some regret about having decided to come."

"Well, at least we treated her OK," Herm said.

"You were great, Herm -- you, especially. The kindness was coming off you in waves."

"I still think she is kind of a sweet girl," Herm said, "Penthouse or no Penthouse."

Betsy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You're just an old softie," she said.

"But let's get real, here, for a minute," Reggie said. "I mean, we all wanted Shirley to feel at ease, and have a good time, but, speaking strictly for myself, I could hardly look at her without thinking about that Penthouse pictorial. Jesus! What a body!"

Not for the first time that night, I glanced over at Marsha to get her reaction to her husband's outspoken comment. But she was cool. She knew her man, and, apparently, was very accepting.

Surprisingly, Herm chimed in with his agreement. "It's true," he said. "It crossed my mind, too -- several times, in fact. I wonder whether Shirley can tell? I mean, if she looks up and catches me looking at her across the table, does she know I'm thinking about those naked pictures of her?"

"It's strange, all right," I agreed. "But I think it would wear off, after awhile. I mean, seeing her like this, tonight, was a complete surprise. If we got reacquainted; if we became friendly with her again, we'd be less self-conscious about the Penthouse thing."

Yeah, but -- there's more," Reggie said.

"What? You mean, the other photographs Shirley mentioned? -- The Internet thing?"

"No, not just that," Reggie said. "While you were dancing with all the ladies, I was over at the liquor table, shooting the breeze with some of the old football guys."