Route 66

21 Class Reunion

I was torn between wearing a classic skirt and blouse or opting for flared polyester pants with a suede bohemian vest over a plaid shirt.

"Blake, what do you think?"

"Go traditional, baby," he said without hesitation.

I had it all planned out. First we'd go to the homecoming game and then live it up in a swanky hotel in downtown Minneapolis for the class party while Beth had a sleepover at Janet's place. When it was time, Beth smiled, cocked her head to the side, and yelled gleefully, "Have fun at the school party Mommy and Daddy!"

After settling into our room, we made our way to the football stadium, where the game flooded Blake with cherished memories, prompting him to cheer passionately for the players, coaches, and referees. Of course, during the tough times, he barked out instructions, but ultimately ended up grinning at me with satisfaction when we clinched the victory and proclaimed, "See? They took my advice."

After the game, Blake insisted we go back to the hotel and relax but I had other ideas and wanted to explore the city and relive old memories.

"Where do you get all this energy?" he marveled.

"We don't get a chance like this every day. Now, come on, just for an hour?"

"Oh, alright!" Blake said with a playful nudge. "You win as usual."

We lost track of time reminiscing, but I managed to squeeze into the same stunning dress I wore to my Senior dance a decade ago, and guess what? It fit perfectly, with my hair now cascading down to the middle of my back.

I wonder if they'll remember.

Blake could have worn the same slacks and suit but those would have been tight. Instead, he wore a brown tweed jacket and corduroy slacks with a wide knotted tie.

"How do I look?" he asked, doing a 360.

I gave him a flirty wink and said, "You look so modern. It's kind of amusing because you told me to wear a traditional outfit."

"I didn't think that old suit would fit anymore," he mumbled. "But look at you, that dress fits you perfectly and you look absolutely stunning!"

When we entered the party hall, everyone did a double take and I knew they weren't staring at Blake.

There was Jack Kemp, the linebacker, who had a pot belly with a receding hairline and Anne Gustafson, his wife, who had nothing but contempt for me because Annette and I got along so famously. She was still thin as a rail but now lines were etched across her gaunt face and the heavy face cream had me wondering why it wasn't dripping off her nose.

Oh! Here comes Darla Schmitt. Dear Darla. She'd been a solid friend to me all through high school and someone I really wanted to keep in touch with, but sadly never followed through.

"Veronica Preston!" she exclaimed as she flung her arms around my neck.

"Darla, honey, how are you? It is so good to see you again! Blake, you remember Darla, don't you?"

"Of course. Where did you find the fountain of youth?" Blake said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did you find some hidden, mystical cave in the Amazon?"

"Oh stop it!" she said, blushing.

I noticed Darla wasn't wearing a ring and there was someone standing right next to her.

"Is this your boyfriend?" I asked, with a friendly smile.

"Oh, how rude of me. Richard, I want to introduce you to Veronica and Blake Preston, two of my dearest college friends. Yes, Richard is most definitely my boyfriend!"