Yearbook (31 page)
Authors: David Marlow
“Buffalo?”
“You a relative?”
“Friend.”
“Left by ambulance yesterday. Fine rehabilitation center in Buffalo.”
“But no one said anything about…” Guy stopped. Suddenly it hit him.
Rough Ferrow.
That was it …
Rough Ferrow
—Buffalo. Now he understood.
The nurse went back to work.
Guy walked down the hall again and stared at the tidy bed. Corky in Buffalo? Transferred. Just like that. Guy felt like crying, but there were no tears. Corky had depended on him, had considered him his last chance before being sent away.
On his way out of the hospital, Guy dropped the greeting card into an ashtray outside the elevator. He knew it without knowing it. He would never hear from Corky Henderson again.
WHILE THE SUN WENT down, Amy stood at the top of Edson Hill and stared at the school.
It was another place. Even the name had changed.
Workmen on a scaffold high above the main entrance rubbed out old letters with a noisy buffing machine. As light faded into a dark, cold night, they put tools away and climbed down.
The barren sky offered little chance of snow before Christmas.
Amy strolled through the main lobby, down to the Delaney Gymnasium, finding everything smaller than before.
The softly lit basketball court-ballroom was partially filled with returning alumnae. Red and yellow crepe paper intertwined around basketball hoops.
She looked around at vaguely familiar faces, wondering why she had come. Until she spotted Leonard Hauser and ran to greet him.
Guy and Rose found a parking spot in front of the school. While he spun the Oldsmobile into the tight space, she went on about how nervous she was seeing old friends again and how grateful she was to Guy for accompanying her.
“How do I look?” She flipped the rear-view mirror toward her.
“Fine.” He flipped it back into position.
“I don’t know when I’ve been more excited!”
Together they walked into the school.
Rose nudged Guy. “Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it?”
“No,” Guy told her.
They passed under the WELCOME HOME, CLASS ‘59 banner and were in the gymnasium.
The four-piece band was at full blast. Zealots danced the twist.
Guy watched a huge roomful of strangers drifting in and out of groups, and couldn’t imagine why he had to agreed to come.
Rose yelled, “There’s Harriet!” and disappeared into a thicket of bodies.
Guy walked to the bleachers and sat. He glanced at his watch, leaned back. And then he saw Amy.
She looked terrific. Tall, confident, vivacious. Though her hair was again frizzy, a natural kinkiness was fast becoming the accepted look. He walked over to say hello.
She let out a whoop and embraced him warmly. “Who be this tall oak which towers before me?”
“Hello, Amy.”
“You may not believe this. I used to know a fellow looked just like you, only he was half your size.”
Guy smiled. “Not quite.”
“Jeez, you look good.”
“And you!” Guy told her emphatically.
“Sure.” She laughed. “Not the Grace Kelly my mother expected, but not Zasu Pitts either.”
“It’s nice to see you, Amy.”
“Listen to that voice! When did you start sounding like Ronald Colman, and what are you doing here? Your homecoming’s not for two years.”
“My sister didn’t want to make her entrance alone. How would it look? I haven’t seen her since we got here.”
“How is Rose?”
Guy shrugged. “Some things never change. She and her husband still live at home with my mother. He works with Barry.”
“Who’s Barry?”
“Barry. My brother.”
“Butch,” Amy corrected him.
“No. Barry. He hasn’t been Butch for years. Ever since I told him it was a choice homosexual expression. He wasn’t wild for the association.”
“I see. What does Barry do these days?”
“Inherited my fathers Olds place. Runs it with an iron fist.”
“And you?”
“Me? Junior year at Boston U.”
“Studying what?” Amy asked in a familiar snappy editorial tone.
“Haven’t picked a major yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Guy put his hands in his pockets. “Guess I haven’t decided what I want to be when I grow up.”
Amy smiled. “I know how you feel. “
“Do you?”
“I’ve been spending a lot of time finding out about myself. Cornell is an amazing place.”
“In what way?”
“Well, for one thing, when I got there I was suddenly being asked out left and right. A little confusing at first, all those bright, Jewish, eligible men. I just wasn’t prepared. When guys told me I was pretty, I was theirs. So I got lavaliered to a Phi Ep in my freshman year. He wasn’t ready to name a date for us to get engaged, so I broke it. How dare he take advantage of my pretended honor! Then when I was a sophomore, I hit bottom. True! Got pinned a Zebe. Thankfully he’d given duplicate pins to two other girls and a lavalier to a fourth. Live and learn. Promise you’ll never go to a Rutgers weekend.”
“I promise.”
“Let’s see. I went with a Sigma Chi WASP my senior year—my big rebellion—and just before I came home last night, I broke my engagement with an ex-A. E. Pi. My mother was crushed!”
“Engaged!”
“Yep. Diamond ring. Bridal shower. The works. I was the envy of the graduate dorm. I think his name was Henry. I remember accepting his ring for a very good reason.”
“What was that?”
“He was the first to offer.”
“ Didn’t you love him?”
“Love him?” Amy grimaced. “I didn’t even know his political affiliation. It turned out to be Fascist.”
“I see.”
“And that was his best feature.”
“ So you finally made it.”
“Finally Took about a month for the bubble to burst. Somehow he’d talked me into doing his laundry—women’s work’—so while scrubbing his boxer shorts I suddenly thought, for this I gave up working on my thesis? For this my mother dedicated her life, to get me here, up to my elbows in dirty suds? I’m in the same lousy state she’s complained about forever. So I returned the ring with his clean laundry and here I am, free and crazy. Want to marry me?”
“Sure.”
“I adore falling in love with love. I’ve already got a date with my ex-fiance’s roommate first night we get back.”
“Busy girl.”
“Making up for lost time. For a while I was determined to have my M.R.S. before my P.H.D.”
“So it seems. You smile different.”
“Do I?” Amy’s eyes widened.
“Not as self-conscious as I remember.”
“Isn’t it amazing what the assorted jewelry of a few burly fraternity men can do for a girl’s ego?”
“Apparently. How goes the journalism? Still the queen of scoops?”
“Still trying. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. Going to do a ‘How Things Have Changed’ piece for the school literary rag.”
“Have things changed, Amy?” He grinned.
She stared at him. “Haven’t they?”
Both nodded their heads at the same time.
A shrilled cry of recognition went up as two girls behind Amy found each other.
“Don’t turn around!” warned Guy.
“What?”
“You won’t believe what just walked in.”
“Why won’t I?”
“Too late!” said Guy just as a voice behind Amy screamed out, “Oh, God! I don’t believe it! Guy Fowler! No!”
Amy didn’t have to turn her head to remember who went with that voice. “Oh-oh! The dread aroma of Chanel choking the air tells me Ro-Anne Sommers must be near.”
“You got it,” Guy whispered as Ro-Anne plowed into him, overwhelming him with affection.
“No-no-no!” Ro-Anne squealed, looking up and down. “Don’t tell me. Little Guy Fowler! What happened to you?”
“Finished my Wheaties.”
“My dear, had I but known you’d be growing into such a hunk, I never would’ve tossed you to the wolves.”
Guy looked over to Amy, around whose neck Ro-Anne now flung her arms, as if greeting a long-lost friend. “I don’t believe it! This really is a reunion! Hail, hail, gang’s all here! Why, Amy Silverstein, just look at you! Thin as a rail and prettier than ever. What’s your secret?”
“I found God.”
“So sharp, this one!” Ro-Anne laughed. “You guys have simply got to forgive me, looking so dreadful. Catch this haircut, will you? I could kick myself.” Ro-Anne whirled in place. “Had it done day before yesterday in Chicago. Serves me right. What do they know in that hick town? My supervisor was after me, though. Passengers kept finding golden curls in my TWA tea!” Ro-Anne giggled, pleased with her well-rehearsed pun.
“I think it looks nice,” Guy offered.
“You like it now, you should’ve seen it before the scalping.”
“ How are things going?” asked Amy.
Ro-Anne sighed. “Let me tell you guys something. I don’t think I ever really knew what living was before riding the old air waves. Talk about fun! We just finished a five-day layover in L. A. Longest party ever. Great crew. What a blast! I had to come home for Christmas to dry out. But I’m not sure I ever will. Cocktails with my mother can wipe you out as bad as a couple of Bloody Marys before breakfast at thirty thousand feet.”
Ro-Anne laughed, and Amy first realized she was a bit drunk.
“Anyone interesting show up?” Ro-Anne’s eyes covered the room. Guy and Amy stared at one another. A short drum roll interrupted their knowing gaze.
“Hello, and may I have your attention!” barked a young man through a microphone on the band podium. “I’m Harvey Levinson, student council president, and It’s my great pleasure to welcome you, the class of 1959, back to John F. Kennedy High School. How does it feel being back at the alma mater? One thing you can’t forget is memories!”
“Get the hook!” Amy whispered to Guy.
“Before we go on, the student council has asked that we devote sixty seconds of tribute to our recently fallen leader.”
A reverent silence stilled the entire room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will … a minute of prayer and reflection in memory of John Fitzgerald Kennedy.”
Two hundred heads dropped to study the high shine on the wooden floor. A white pin-spot signaled out the American flag on the podium.
Sixty seconds is a long time. After twenty of them, nervous heads lifted, anxious eyes wandered, other thoughts raced.
Guy looked up at Amy.
Ro-Anne half-giggled to herself.
Guy turned his head to the metal doors at the entrance and saw a tall figure standing there, silhouetted against the illuminated hallway. He stopped breathing for a moment and looked down again. Couldn’t be.
Amy’s eyes also came upon the big man in the shadow of the doorway. She squinted to get a better look and at the same time told herself to stop playing games. He wasn’t going to come.
“Thank you very much,” said a voice over the microphone. Everyone breathed in relief and resumed moving about.
The band broke into another twist and couples made their way to the middle of the floor.
“Anybody care to dance?” Ro-Anne looked at Guy. Before he could answer, Guy saw the sides of Ro-Anne’s mouth slide from joy to doubt to discomfort as she looked past him, toward the door. And he knew without having to turn who it was she had seen.
A wave of recognition swept the room. Heads turned, bodies stretched, hands even clapped.
“Corky/” was the cry and it echoed all over the gym. Scores of people left intimate circles, hurrying to greet him.
Neither Guy nor Amy nor Ro-Anne moved as a stream of alumnae flowed past them. There was no need to look at each other’s face to know what they uniquely shared—the hope against hope that on this cold evening in December number 33 might actually show up in The Delaney Gymnasium for his Homecoming.
“I’ve been looking forward to this night for a month,” said Ro-Anne. “Now I’m scared as hell. “
“Relax,” Guy told her.
“But what’ll I say to him?”
“Start with hello,” Amy said. “You ought to be able to handle that.”
The center of attraction, Corky could not have been happier. It had been years since he’d commanded this sort of reception, and the hope of it was one of the main reasons he’d decided to come. He craved a hero’s welcome, now he could relax. Smiling and nodding, he shook hands and chatted with former teammates, reliving golden times.
“He looks so marvelous,” Ro-Anne said quietly. “I never dreamed… . How do you suppose they did it?”
“Mirrors,” snapped Amy.
“Should we go over to him?” asked Guy.
“What, and join the multitudes? Never. He’s had enough time in the limelight. I’ll get his attention.” With a wave, a smile and a loud “Yoo-hoo,” Ro-Anne signaled to Corky.
“I should’ve brought my whistle,” said Amy.
A smiling Corky heard a shout and turned to see Ro-Anne. His stomach dropped and for a brief moment he shook all over.
He managed to wave back. “Excuse me,” he said to the dozen people around him as he made his way across the room.
Walk slowly. Take your time. Maybe they wont notice. Make sure your left side faces the wall.
Amy, Guy and Ro-Anne watched Corky walking casually toward them, and each of their nervously wide, anticipatory smiles stiffened as one by one they spotted his limp. Slight. Barely obvious, but hardly the robust gait they remembered.
Corky noted how their smiles broadened to cover their unease. First he hugged Ro-Anne, who screeched out his name and threw her arms around him, forcefully kissing him on the lips.
He turned to Amy.
“Hello, Corky.” She extended a long arm. He took it and brought her to him. It was an affectionate embrace, she could feel all his warmth… .
Guy was next. Corky shook his hand. “Jesus, kid. How dare you grow up so tall. You sure you’re not on stilts?”
Guy smiled. “Positive.”
Corky took a step back. “Let me look at all of you.”
He looked at all of them. They looked at all of him.
Ro-Anne interrupted a long moment’s silence. “Hey, gang, I thought reunions were supposed to be happy!”
“Absolutely right!” Corky snapped his fingers. “Guy, let’s have a joke!”
