Reunion

Bags by the door, waiting for his car, Dashiell Holt rang up Aria, his ‘sig-o.’ Their shorthand for ‘significant other,’ ‘sig-o’ recently went viral on social media.

Hearing her phone, Aria called for a break in the modeling session. The photographer nodded. Aria waved the make-up girl away.

Dashiell said, “Hi, sorry to interrupt, babe. Calling to tell you I’m off to my reunion.”

“You’re leaving now? Don’t go alone. Catch the next flight…”

He said, “It’s okay. You’re busy. It’ll be dreary torture. And probably embarrassing.”

“That sounds like a trifecta I wouldn’t bet on.”

“Anyway, you don’t need to suffer it. They invited me because I’m famous, not because anyone knows me. But I need to do this.”

“We could suffer it together…” He didn’t respond. “Again, Dash, why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know, Ari.”

“They’re strangers. You hated high school… Why go to a reunion with people you never had union?”

“An obsolete rite of passage. Guess I need to meet someone from my past.”

She looked at her phone. “Who?”

“Me.”

~

Sitting in first class, Dashiell took time to think. Time was a rare commodity for him. Thinking even rarer. He was a master of going with the flow.

Having a super-model on his arm would have eased a lot of pressure. Eye candy makes a great distraction. But his life had plenty of distractions. Whatever this trip’s purpose, distraction wasn’t it. Something told him he needed to find something he’d lost.

His life was in flux. After years of struggle, his star had risen. He recently reprised the lead role, Crater, in another of the hit ‘Raging Moon’ sci-fi movies.

But he wasn’t happy. Last week he told Manny, his agent, he wanted to explore other options. Not get locked into one role. A dead-end parody of himself.

“Walking away from this franchise is career suicide kid,” Manny said. “Stay on. Two more… You’ll get a bigger check.”

It wasn’t about the money. Any role risks career suicide, franchise or not. It’s a crapshoot. ‘Manny’s blinded by the prospect of a dwindling percentage.’ A hot property, Dashiell wondered what he wanted. Was he a successful actor? Or a CGI cartoon pushing popcorn? ‘What are my options?’

Getting away gave him the distance to gain clarity and fill some blanks. Would he recognize clarity when it arrived?

~

Standing in the doorway to the ballroom, Dashiell scanned the room. The band played to an empty floor. Nobody looked the least bit familiar. He’d only attended this school his senior year. Known as the ‘new kid,’ he’d remained a non-entity, a nerd.

Now, dressed in a sport coat sans tie, no one noticed him. Some things never change. That was okay.

He made a bee line to the bar and ordered a bourbon, rocks.

The men clustered there had been the jocks. He recognized some, none were friends. Back then, a few tried bullying him.

Dashiell laughed to himself. Overdressed, few of them knew how to knot a tie. Not all had kept fit, but each had their swagger.

Former quarterback and wrestling champ, Mountain, recognized him.

“Hey! It’s the new kid. Where’s your ray gun, man? Don’t shoot!”

His pals guffawed at his wit. Mountain slapped Dashiell on the back. This was an improvement. On Dashiell’s first day, Mountain introduced himself by punching him in the face.

“I saw you on TV with that Fatima chick. No fat on her! Right? She’s hot.” His crew howled.

Dashiell said, “We were on a publicity junket. She has a new show…”

Mountain elbowed him. “Yeah, but what’s she like in the dark?” His crew loved it.

“It’s called acting, Mountain. Everyone does it. Some get paid for it.”

Mountain’s pals groaned. Dashiell raised his drink to the group.

“Cheers!”

Another shouted, “With your money, bet you could buy this whole town.”

Dashiell smiled. He would look elsewhere for clarity.

As he turned away, an old acquaintance approached with his wife.

Dashiell stopped and smiled. “Tom?”

They laughed as they clasped hands. It felt good to see a face not associated with a fist. They hadn’t been close, but sat through many of the same classes.

“Meet Laura, my wife.”

Dashiell took her hand and bowed.

She said, “You’re even more handsome in person.”

He laughed. “Thanks. You make a nice couple.”

Tom said, “You alone? Where’s your entourage?”

“Don’t believe everything you see on TV, Tom.”

“By the way, saw your last two pics. Great job.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, would you mind taking a picture of me and Laura?” Tom handed him his phone.

Dashiell chuckled. “Of course.”

They posed and Dashiell snapped a few for them.

Laura looked confused. “Don’t you want a picture with your friend? I mean…”

Tom gave Dashiell a look. “Naw… I know what he looks like.”

She rolled her eyes as the two men laughed.

Tom said, “Hey, bud… Come sit with us…”

Dashiell nodded. “Maybe later! Gonna circulate.”

Eyes followed as he skirted the crowded dance floor. Those who once ignored him, couldn’t look away.

He had no illusions. Their interest had no more depth than his image on a theater screen. One of his fears was someone finding he was that shallow.

Fans often came up and spoke to him as if they knew him, but used his character’s name.

A woman stumbled off the dance floor and fell into his arms. He saw her in time and caught her.

She smiled at him as he cradled her. “Dash!”

He looked and recognized her.

“Joan?” She laughed as he helped her up. “What a surprise…”

Joan waved at another woman to join them. Dashiell picked up his glass and kicked the spilled ice under a table.

“This is my wife, Shirley.”

“Glad to meet you.”

She nodded.

“Dash was my beard at our senior prom.” Joan looked at him. “I’m afraid I misled you. You had a crush on me.”

“Ancient history…”

Giggling, she whispered to Shirley. “He had a crush on me…”

Shirley rolled her eyes. “Well, duh!”

They nudged each other playfully.

Getting serious, Joan turned back to Dashiell. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

He shook his head. “Forget it. I’m clueless.”

“Hope you’re not angry…”

“Kid stuff, you know? Things were different. You flew under the radar. I know how it feels to be an object.”

“You weren’t a jock. I thought you were gay.”

“Yeah… Simplistic teens. ‘Not a jock? Then he must be…’”

Joan and Shirley laughed. “Busted…”

Dashiell continued. “Kids thought I was a dealer, and a narc too… None of the above. It’s like trying on hats. Regardless the fashion, some just don’t fit.”

Joan and Shirley clung. “We fit.”

Dashiell nodded. “Congratulations. I’m glad for you. With acting, I learned to never get so attached to a hat I can’t take it off.”

Joan said, “Yeah, look at you now! You’re Crater!”

“Just another role. Sometimes I long for times when no one noticed me.”

“I knew you when…”

“Before I became a pop-cornographer.”

They laughed.

Shirley said, “Nice meeting you…”

“Likewise…”

Dashiell set down his empty glass. Glancing at the bar he decided the exit held more promise. He walked with purpose until he heard his name.

He reached for his pen. ‘Has to be for an autograph…’

A woman stepped in front of him and touched his arm. She smiled.

“Amy?” She nodded. “What…? How are you? You’re beautiful! This is great! And I almost missed you… You’re why I came.”

They embraced. And kissed. It felt like home. It had been so long. Too long.

“Where are you going? Dash… Stay. This is your moment. You’re more than anyone expected.”

“You always saw me.”

She leaned in. “A little secret? Millions have seen you, Dash.”

They laughed.

“You know what I mean…”

Despite the years, he felt immediate ease with her. Like with no one else. No time had passed. This is what he’d been missing.

“I’m so glad you saw me. This is the reunion I wanted…”

“Are you alone?”

He shrugged. “Don’t want to be. Are you?”

Ignoring his question, she scanned the crowd and turned back to him. “But what about them? You showed them…”

“They don’t care. They have lives. Busy retelling high school war stories.”

“Have time to tell me some?”

He smiled warmly. “Anytime, my friend.”

“Me? We’re friends?”

“Of course. You’re my one and only. You’re the only real person I’ve ever known, Amy.”

She laughed and looked around, embarrassed.

“Amy... You know I always loved you.”

“Uhm, gosh… Could you have told me that twenty years ago?”

He took her hands and said, “Come with me…”

“What? For coffee?”

“No. To LA.”

“You’re joking. Dash, that’s not my life. This isn’t a movie. What would I do?”

“Be with me…”

She thought of herself standing on the balcony of an ivory tower and shook it off.          

He said, “We become who we imagine ourselves to be.”

“Is that a line from a movie? Who do you imagine yourself to be?”

“Good question. Hopefully someone with a better imagination. Still looking for an answer.” He looked about. “Where’s your table? We need to talk.”

They sat at a nearby table. Amy leaned on her elbows and gazed into his eyes.

“I’m all ears…”

“I almost didn’t come. Didn’t know why I did until you stopped me. You’re my reason to be here.”

Amy took her time. “You say you always loved me. Why didn’t you take me with you back then?”

“I was an idiot. Didn’t know what I was doing. Didn’t know who I was. Got caught up in the grind.”

“And now?”      

“I become what the script says. When you’re handsome, people trust you.”

“So, you’re the public face for the ugly writer.”

Dashiell thought for a moment and nodded. “You got me.”

“I’ll be honest, Dash. I won’t compete with the starlets you’re seen with.”

“You know that’s surface B-S. Real love doesn’t care about the lens or the lights. No one ever compared to you, Amy.”

Playing the coquette, she batted her eyes. “Oh, my, Dash… ahem… Remember you’re an actor? Do you ever stop? How would you know if you did?”

“I’m serious, Amy. We had so much fun together. I miss laughing ‘til we cried.”

She smiled at the memory. “Remember our water fight?”

“That you started…”

“We ended up rolling around in sopping wet laundry. My mom was furious.”

“It was muddy glorious.”

“And you took the blame. She could never be angry at you.”

They sat in silence. The band played oldies.

She said, “I’ve missed those times too. But I always felt you were looking passed me. Hungry. Wanting some next… something.”

“That might have been true then. But now, you’re who I’m looking for.”

“I’m not the same, Dash. You’ve got an eighteen-year-old girl in your head. You don’t know me. You think I’ve spent years pining for you? You don’t even know yourself.”

“You’re the missing piece, Amy. We could start over. Here and now.”

“And you’re leaving when?”

“Tomorrow…” She laughed out loud. “…But I can cancel. No commitments. None.”

“Uh huh… Why don’t I believe that? You have offers, meetings, contracts, appearances. A career. And no girlfriends?”

“Well…”

“Right…"

"Wait... You're not married?"

"Nope."

"How is that possible? You're great!"

"I should say, 'not currently.'"

Dashiell looked away. "I'll be a gentleman and not ask."

"Twice. Long gone. So, call me if you want. We’ll talk. Visit when you have more than two hours. I want to see you for two hours, I’ll go to the movies. Buy popcorn.”

“Point taken. But I’m serious, Amy. You mean I have a chance? We’ll see where it goes?”

“Sure. Why not? Who knows? Maybe all that glitz will lose its gloss. Maybe your visit will trigger overwhelming nostalgia for your old hometown.”

“Already happened if you’re here.”

“That and a dollar-fifty...” They laughed. She gave him her card. “Give me a call. Show me, old friend.”

She’d drawn the line. Dashiell saw a clear path. He knew where it led.

He stood. “I’m heading out. Got an early flight.”

Amy nodded.

He said, “I can’t tell you how much it means… seeing you. Talking. Reconnecting. I’m embarrassed about so much lost time.”

Amy stood and took his hand. “It means a lot to me too, Dash. You said you like ‘real.’” He nodded. “I hope to hear from you. Have a good flight.”

They embraced and he pulled away.

“Bye…”

Amy gave him a little wave and he left.

Dashiell stepped outside. The night air drew him on. He walked. The town hadn’t changed. But he had. The streets reminded him of his life, so long ago. Not all bad.

He passed by the fast food joint where he got his first job, flipping burgers. People not thought of in years came to mind.

His first kiss. Amy.

He thought, ‘This is a good place. I could live here. Make this my home.’

He walked into the motel lot and up to his room. He pulled the key card out, flipped it and caught it.

“Home again…”

He looked at the room. The ventilator hummed. He could be anywhere. Working on location, he’d lived in countless rooms with drab curtains, generic pictures bolted to the walls and little coffee makers. Rooms like this had been his home away from home for years.

He looked in the mirror. He wanted something different. “No more. Got some changes to make.”

~

© John K. Adams 2024. All rights reserved.