My heart was racing, as I entered the restaurant.
I was about to meet high school classmates I hadn’t seen in forty-nine years.
Where was my friend Maureen? It was her idea that we join the planning committee for our fiftieth class reunion and she was late.
I had on new black slacks, and a red silk sweater set. The outfit was youthful, but my orthopedic shoes were a dead giveaway.
I entered a private dining room and approached a tall gentleman whose name tag read Robert.
“Is this the reunion meeting?” I asked.
“Yes“, he answered as he apologized for not recognizing me.
Suddenly, his face became animated. “Now I remember you,” he said.
“You haven’t changed much Rosy.”
I was about to answer that I was Micki, but Robert turned to join another group.
“Rosy,” a voice yelled from behind. An attractive red haired woman ran towards me with arms extended.
“You look great,” she said.
“Thanks so much, uh… you look fantastic too.”
I had no idea who she was.
“Why does your tag say Micki?” she asked.
“Because that’s my name,” I answered in exasperation.
“Rosy you haven’t changed at all,” she laughed.
“Are you married? Do you have children? Are you working?”
She reminded me of a windup doll.
“I have three married daughters and…”
She interrupted, and gave me another squeeze. “We’ll talk later Rosy.”
“Sure thing,” I muttered.
There were now about twenty people in the room.
Jerry, the Class President, looked familiar.
“Welcome Alumni,” he said. “We’ll all have a blast organizing this reunion.”
I was now seated at a table with the redhead whose name was Debra, twins Annie and Alisa and an attractive man named Henry who thought we all looked wonderful.
When Jerry requested a reunion theme Debra knocked over a glass of wine in her haste to raise her hand.
“Peggy Sue revisited,” she shouted.
“No way,” I giggled. “I was a very insecure teen.”
“You Rosy?” laughed Debra.
“Micki! It’s Micki,” I stammered.
Oh well, if they wanted to call me Rosy then so be it. I was having a great time.
As Dessert was being served I suddenly remembered Maureen. I stepped out to call her husband.
“She left two hours ago. I’ll try her cell,” he said.
As I returned to my table I heard the Class President Say “Thanks for coming. Our thirty-fifth reunion should be fantastic.”
“He means fiftieth reunion, right?”
“You’re kidding,” laughed Debra.
“There’s a fiftieth reunion meeting down the hall and those people look old, Rosy.”
I was mortified. She was talking about my class.
I quickly said goodnight. As I walked toward the door my cell phone rang.
“Where are you?” asked Maureen.
“Long story. Meet me at the entrance and I’ll explain.”
With a glorious smile I rushed towards the door.
Wrong room, wrong classmates, yet I was glowing. I had passed for fifteen years younger.
It couldn’t get any better then this.
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