Haven't Changed a Bit

I stand in my front hall and inspect myself in the mirror.

New little black dress, the first dress I've bought in decades since I'm a jeans-and-sweatshirt type? Check.

New hair cut, so I could blow-dry my 'always in a ponytail' strands into something sleek and elegant that flows over my shoulders? Check.

New dye job, to hide the grays and return me to my teenaged brunette? Check.

New me? Sadly, no check.

I'm all cleaned up on the outside, but inside? I haven't changed at all since high school. I still live in the house my grandmother lived in, with the same job and the same hobby and the same fashion sense.

But maybe looking changed will be enough.

I hadn't decided whether I'd go to the reunion. On the one hand, it seemed like I should. My parents still raved about theirs, how much fun they had with all their friends. But I was a loner in high school, and after thirty years of not seeing the people who ignored me, or worse, I wasn't sure I wanted to let them back into my head and my life.

But then I overheard Tiffany and Karen chattering away around the corner from me at the grocery store.

"Can't wait to see everyone at the reunion."

"Except Sasha. Did you see she didn't respond?"

"Why the hell would she?"

They both laughed, while I stood still so I wouldn't make a sound and wished I could climb into the nearby freezer and hide myself beneath the bags of vegetables.

"Boring little nobody," Tiffany said. "I heard she still works here. Career cashier! And she's not even married. Pathetic."

Karen laughed again. "Well, of course she's not. She wanted Tyler."

Tiffany snorted. "I should have let her have him. Would have saved me the divorce lawyer. Anyhow, have you got your dress for it?"

"Not with this fat ass, I don't."

They carried on talking, sounding almost braggy about how much weight they wanted to lose in the month before the reunion and which diet pills had and hadn't worked in the past, and I slunk off down my aisle and hid in the back room until I was sure they'd be gone.

Yes, I still work at the same grocery store where I started in grade 11. Yes, I'm still a cashier too. And oh, yes, I did want Tyler, so much it hurt. But he never saw me.

But now he and Tiffany divorced. I didn't know that.

But I've thought about it a lot in the last month.

I step back and scan myself again in the mirror, and can't help smiling. Another thing that hasn't changed is that I'm still a size six. Tiffany and Karen can't say that. Tyler might see me now, and even if he doesn't, they will and they'll see how great I look tonight and—

My phone buzzes with its 'new comment on the blog' ringtone, and I remind myself to check when I get home. I posted my newest story a few hours ago, and it's had even nicer than usual comments from my readers, so I'll keep this one to read afterwards. I might need cheering up.

Pushing that thought away, I set out, and ten minutes later, I'm parking my car at the only hotel in town with a ballroom big enough for our reunion. 

Five minutes after that, I'm still sitting in my car.

People have been driving in, getting out of their cars, and hurrying over to greet each other with shouts of who has and hasn't changed.

None of them have changed all that much, because I recognize all of them.

And I don't like any of them.

Tiffany and Karen are the worst of the bunch, but the rest too... seeing them reminds me of how much I hated high school and how badly I wanted to get out of there and start a whole new life.

Which I didn't do.

My phone buzzes with another blog comment, then another, and I pull it out and read them so I don't have to go inside yet. 

"Exactly what I needed to read, Sasha, thank you so much!"

"How do you come up with these every week, it's amazing! You should sell a collection of them, I'd buy!"

And the earlier comment is just as kind.

I wrote throughout high school, though I didn't share it with anyone. I was terrified the first time I posted, but over the years I've developed a real following for my stories and I've become great online friends with many of my readers.

A car door slams near me, making me jump, and I look to see Tyler getting out and immediately being greeted by two of his buddies. He's gained weight since high school too, but he still looks good.

"Same ol' Tyler," one says. "Good to see you, man."

"You too, although you look like hell."

They all laugh, then Tyler's gaze passes over my car.

I start to scrunch down into my seat before I can stop myself. I don't think he notices, though. I don't think he sees me at all.

Tyler and his friends and the rest of the crowd move into the hotel, and I still sit.

Finally, I manage to force myself out of the car. I've spent the last month practicing walking in my heels, and I like the sound of them on the pavement as I walk toward the hotel. They make me feel like a whole different person, one who belongs here.

As I reach for the door, feeling like I'm reaching out to touch an unexploded bomb, I hear someone behind me squeal, "Mary, you haven't changed a bit!"

My phone buzzes again while Mary tells the squealer she hasn't changed either, and I feel that unexploded bomb going off in my chest.

I haven't changed a bit either.

I work in the same place, I live in the same place, and I wear the same clothes when I'm not dressed up like a fool for a reunion I don't want to attend. And I still write all the time. Those things haven't changed.

And yet.

I share that writing with people who love it. Every day, I hear how much of a difference it's made for them. And I've been offered the chance to be promoted at work, but I didn't accept. I wanted to stay a cashier, because I didn't want a job I had to think about after I left. I wanted to keep my time and energy for my writing. I've arranged my whole life around the things I love.

And my high school classmates certainly don't fit that category, not even Tyler. Maybe especially not Tyler, since what eighteen-year-old Sasha thought was sexy cockiness I now see as jerkiness.

My classmates haven't changed, and neither have I.

But I could. I could go in there and change. Flirt with Tyler, upset Tiffany and Karen, squeal with Mary... I could become a whole new person tonight. Change my insides to match my outsides.

I reach for the door handle again, testing how that might feel.

Then I turn and walk away.