Upon receiving the notice in the mail, or invitation, rather, for the ten year class reunion for my high school graduating class of nineteen eighty-eight, I had mixed feelings about going. At the time, I had a job working as a cashier in a family restaurant. I also worked as a hostess from time to time and trained other employees on the cash register and on the duties of a cashier. It was a stressful job and I was miserable with that job, but I stayed there, because it was a job that paid my bills and enabled me to buy special things for myself and for others, my loved ones that is.

In the reunion packet was a questionnaire asking for my marital status, the name of my spouse if I was married, the names of my children if I had any and how old they were. There was a question pertaining to my accomplishments or proudest moment since graduation from high school. I wrote down my awards I received for my poetry. As for my hangout I put bookstores. I had no embarrassing moment after graduating from high school. Then I came to the question about my occupation. I put down freelance writer. I figured everyone else would bullshit on the questionnaire for the student directory anyway, so why should I tell the truth. Class reunions are about making the right impression on one’s peers.

I arrived at the reunion with my good friend since childhood. His name is Robert Alexander. The girl who was president of our class handed out directories and name buttons with our class pictures on them. Robert Alexander got a button that said “Guest”. He was more tickled the I was to receive one. The restaurant where the class reunion took place was owned and operated by a couple that graduated with me. Robert Alexander and I selected a table, then he went up to the bar to get something for us to drink while I chilled out to Wang Chung”s Everybody Have Fun Tonight, a song that blasted from the huge sound system. We had a D.J., because we didn’t have enough money in our class funds to cover the cost of a band.

I flipped through the class directory to discover that only my name, address, and phone number were listed. I was kind of disappointed, because many other students had most everything on the questionnaire they filled out. Of course, my class president got my name, address and phone number at a gym from my brother when she ran into him there. I guess she didn’t realize that when she sent me the questionnaire, the class treasure had already put the book together with her fiancé. Therefore, my responses didn’t get to her in time.