Days Gone By

On the day of the reunion, Jack and I reluctantly get into the car and make the ninety minute trek back to our hometown. We reminisce idly and discuss who we hope to see and who we would rather not see. Naturally, there were plenty of bullies and people who did not particularly like Jack and I, but we also had several friends who moved out of state after graduation who we would like to catch up with.

We pull up to the school a quarter to six. The building is identical to when we graduated ten years prior. The major difference is the nice 88% graduation rate our class had has sunk to a pathetic 45%. The city started to go downhill when we graduated, hence Jack and I fled to the next major city over where there were bigger companies, more jobs, better schools, and nicer homes. The majority of our class, however, stayed put.

“Well… good to see nothing’s changed,” Jack sighs, shutting his car door. He straightens out his blue polo shirt and walks around the car to slip his hand into mine. We make our way to the gym. The interior looks just the same. I feel a rush of memories—owning everyone in whiffle ball, but getting the shit beaten out of me in dodgeball. One time our sophomore year, one of the football players tripped me while we were running laps. I busted my lip when I hit the ground and Jack picked me up and took me to the locker room. He cleaned up my face and inspected the wound for me. We had our first kiss that day.

Registration is just inside the doors. The people manning the table are teachers I never had. We receive some paper nametags. Jack sticks mine to the breast pocket of my black dress shirt and we wander into the gym. Music is playing quietly and there is a table of snacks.

“Jack! Alex!” I hear someone exclaim behind us. We turn in unison and see our two friends, Amita and Gabriella running towards us, arms spread wide. I squeal and wrap Gabriella up in my arms. Amita heads straight for Jack.

“I can’t believe you two are here!” I shout excitedly.

“Well I just finished my masters at Columbia, so I figured it was time to visit home. I haven’t seen my parents in two years,” Amita laughs.

“I was just hoping to see all you guys,” Gabriella admits, twirling her long black hair. She moved back to Puerto Rico to help take care of her grandparents after graduation. A few more people trickle in, attaching themselves to our group. It’s all people we were friendly with in high school, but not particularly close to. We all catch up and have a few laughs.

“I seriously cannot believe you two are still together!” Matt, the former captain of the baseball team I played on, shouted.

“Are you surprised, though?” Gracie, our student body president, replied. “They started dating, what, beginning of sophomore year and they were voted most likely to get married.”

Jack holds up his left hand, flashing his wedding ring, “five years this October,” he beams. Everyone coos and congratulates us.

It was truly a no-brainer marrying Jack. From the second we met in our freshman biology class I knew he was the perfect guy for me. I’ve never met another person as kind and patient and loving and creative as him. The first time we ever hung out I was a nervous wreck. My mother drove us to Dairy Queen after one of my baseball practices then sat at the library across the street until we were done. I shook the whole time, using the cold, cherry-dip cone as a scapegoat. Of course, several years later Jack revealed that he had thrown up before my mother and I picked him up. We knew from the get-go that we were in for the long haul.

Our group begins to disperse after the first hour. Some people go home, some move onto different groups. There are about two hundred people in the gym. Jack and I move through the crowd, our pinkies linked together. We spot one of our bullies on the other side of the gym. He looks up and makes eye contact, a scowl spreading across his face. I grab the rest of Jack’s hand and squeeze, yanking him through the locker room door and out the other side into the hallway. I make a quick decision to push through the glass door leading to the fieldhouse.

“Was he not at the top of our list of people we didn’t want to see?” Jack grumbles.

The guy in question, Robbie, was the football player who busted my lip, but that was more of a one-off incident. Junior year he made much more of a routine out of making our lives miserable. I remember the time I received a note in the middle of class from one of my classmates who had just returned from the bathroom. It just said, “help me –Jack”. I asked to be excused and hurried down the hallway to the restroom. I could hear sniffling from the last stall.

“Jack?” I whispered. I heard the door unlock. I pushed it open to see Jack completely soaked from the waist up. He had a bruise forming over his left eye and blood slowly trickling from his nose. My heart shattered. I locked us into the stall and hugged him.

“Who did this to you?” I whimpered, holding back tears.

“Robbie,” Jack wept quietly.

“I hope he’s not here to start shit,” I snap, trying the fieldhouse door, but finding it locked.

“We can leave whenever. I’ve had my fill of old acquaintances and repressed memories.”

“I’m not quite done here yet.” I pace around the fieldhouse. Jack follows, a confused look on his face. Eventually it sinks in.

Our senior year things started looking up for us. We were approaching our two years as boyfriends, we were getting into the schools we wanted, and we were finally getting bullied less and less. We also got more adventurous. One Friday during second quarter, there was a pep rally for the basketball team. We had just worked up the courage to talk about finally having sex for the first time. We snuck out of the gym and made our way to the fieldhouse. It was unlocked, but empty. We crept all the way to the very back behind a giant shelving unit filled with footballs and volleyballs. I positioned Jack face-down on the floor and pulled our winter coats off. I rolled them up and placed them on the floor under Jack’s lower stomach. He handed me a condom from his pocket and I tore it open. It was cold and clumsy, but it was certainly an exhilarating experience. Right when we finished, Jack reached forward to stabilize himself. The entire top shelf of volleyballs came tumbling down. They hit two volleyball nets that were leaning against the wall on the other side and sent them crashing to the floor as well. I shoved myself back into my pants and helped Jack sit back up. His face was contorted in pain, but we knew we didn’t have time for a cuddle. We heard a door and some voices approaching the fieldhouse. I looked up and saw a small window at the top of the wall above us. I pulled a giant barrel of baseballs over to us and jumped up, pushing the window open. Jack threw me our coats, which I sent out the window first. I then stepped down and pushed Jack up and through the window before pulling myself up and dropping into the grass just a few feet below. We decided to take off and get into Jack’s car. The school day was nearly over so we lay in the back seat panting and shaking until we heard the final bell.

I stop under the window and point up. “Here’s a memory I don’t want to repress,” Jack smirks, resting his warm hand on the small of my back.

“There’s no way we can open that from this side,” I mutter, feeling defeated. Jack looks around the campus. There’s not a single soul around. “I mean…” he pauses, turning himself so that his back is against the brick wall and he is facing me. “If this is as close as we can get”. He grabs my hips and pulls me into him, kissing me hard. I can’t help but laugh against his lips because I know exactly where this is going. He reaches down and untucks my shirt, unbuttoning my pants with one swift turn of his wrist. I gasp lightly as his hand slides down the front of my underwear. Just then we hear the door swing open, a wave of chattering voices follows it. “Fuck!” I whisper urgently. Jack pulls his hand back and I button my pants. We scurry back behind the gymnasium building and take the long way around to the parking lot, luckily avoiding the group of people who ended our attempt at a reenactment of our favourite high school memory.

We jump back in the car, look over at each other, and laugh hysterically. Several minutes pass before we regain our composure. Jack starts the car and puts his hand on my leg. I beam at him and say, “let’s get outta this shithole”. Jack punches the gas and we tear out of the parking lot. He makes his way to the highway and mutters “you’re gonna get it when we get home…”