L'Internazionale

On a Sunday evening in November in 2021, signs were put up by two tired men and a woman in blue overalls outside the gates of Granite High School in a town somewhere east of Seattle and west of New York. The two men and the woman who set up the signs crossed the parking lot and opened the front door of the school. In the entrance, which adjoined the cafeteria and was divided only by a glass wall with the office of the principal, there was a hand trolley with two kegs. They moved the kegs into the cafeteria, which was decorated with a number of signs identical to the ones outside mixed with the usual student art and athletic imagery, set them up by a table with a large stack of paper plates and red plastic cups, and left. They ran across the parking lot to a very clean car with two strips of duct tape and several zip ties connecting the bumper. They all got in, and drove away very quickly. 

The signs, which the workers did not read, announced the reunion of the class of 2001 on the left side of the road, and the class of 2000 on the right. Under each was an added banner “Just on time!” for the class of 2001 and “Socially close” for the class of 2000. 

The classes of 2000 and 2001 respectively arrived, with a few invited guests. Not many of them stayed long. 

Loren, class of 2001, arrived early and made a point to hug every person who arrived personally. When Quora, class of 2000 arrived late, she dropped what she was doing and actually ran into the man she’d been talking to and ran to greet her. Quora smiled, but was not as loud. 

“I’m so happy you made it!” said Loren. “I didn’t think you’d have come so far.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” said Quora “I wouldn’t have been late, but I can blame my flight for that.”

“Oh my god, what is it like living in Italy?” asked Loren. Then she opened her eyes very wide. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s better now. God knows the government didn’t handle the pandemic well, but that’s not my problem right now.” said Quora, politely. 

---

Quora, Loren and a few others all went into the bar at once and took their coats off. Then, they moved to the bar in a flock. The bar had a stage, but it wasn’t in use. There were more customers than usual for a Sunday, but the floor wasn’t crowded. With one or two exceptions everyone was either in a group settling at the bar with Quora and Loren, or in a group at two tables moved together, so that they were packed densely and didn’t occupy all the space. 

At the tables, the woman in overalls nudged one of her coworkers.  They exchanged a withering glance with each other. The group at the bar didn’t notice them, but Quora noticed their other coworker at the tables. He did not make eye contact with her, even after she stared at him. She walked over to him. 

“Your name is Mike.” she said, “Do you remember me?” 

He stood up, and smiled brightly. Then he made an apologetic face. “Your name is Quora, and I’ll never forget it, but I think I was kind of a dick to you at the end and didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me. But this,” and he paused to gesture at the group he was sitting with. “Is the chapter you and I founded.” Everyone at the table grinned, and most drank. They each shook Quora’s hand and introduced themselves one at a time. Then, one of the men in overalls started to sing the International, with a wide grin. The woman with him gently slapped the back of his head and he laughed. Then Quora started to sing in Italian. 

She stopped half way through “That’s all I remember.” 

Quora put up her left fist, elbow bent, and laughed out loud at being asked. “I haven’t heard those words in years.” she said, still smiling. Her friends watched with a little cringe. Loren was openly shocked. 

“Well, I know your heart’s in the right place.” said Mike. “The words aren’t the most important part.” 

“It’s good to hear them again.” said Quora. “All the memories are good ones.” 

“Good.” 

Mike crossed the table to sit next to Quora. The rest of the Chapter resumed previous conversation. 

“So how is the IWW in Italy?” he asked. 

“I don’t know.” she confessed. 

“You’re with someone else now?” She shook her head.

Mike raised his eyebrows. “What’s the political situation?”

Quora took a long drink. “It’s not good. I try not to think about it.” 

“Ah.” said mike. He finished his drink and stared at her for a few seconds. “That’s convenient for you.” 

She shot him a look, but he carried on. “It must be nice. Most of us don’t have that luxury.” He was smiling very unkindly. 

“It was nice to see you.” she said, and got up. “I think I’m going to go back to my friends though.” 

“Enjoy the reunion. Don’t worry about the people who actually did the work. We’re only workers.” 

She threw her drink in his face, and left. 

The woman in the overalls leaned towards Mike and hissed. “We didn’t ask you to say that.” 

---

“That’s how I remember it, at least.” He said. He stared at her, because there was nothing else to do at the bus stop.

She took a half step back from him, and she nodded. Neither of them said anything for a while, and eventually he stopped staring at her. 

“You were very rude.” she said. “In 2021.” He looked back up and met her gaze, then she looked away from him again. “But I’m glad you reminded me to care.” she said. “It's good to be with comrades again.” 

He smiled. 

She looked at him sharply, turned so she faced right at him. Her right hand was on her hip. Her left would have been but it held her messenger at her side. “It would have meant a lot more if you weren’t a dick about it. Stop being so rude, but don’t stop caring. Caring isn’t the problem.” 

“I’ll try.” he said. “I’ve been trying. With help, actually.” He hesitated. “But only to future comrades. For the cops I’m not changing anything. My therapist says I should pick my battles.”

She rolled her eyes. 

Then the bus came for her, and she left.