Regina

“Hey, wanna dance?”

           “Sure.” The pretty brunette winked at him. He tripped on his way to the dance floor.

           Sterling High School’s five year reunion for the class of ’75 and the band finally threw a slow dance out for anyone brave enough to dance with anyone else they had not seen in half a decade.

           George Young, fledgling freelance film coordinator in New York City had driven down for the event in southern New Jersey. The first person he saw was Regina “Jeannie” McCusker, and she happened to be the first person he planned to ask to dance, which he had done.

           He took her right hand in his left; swept his right hand to the small of her back; and she placed her left hand on his shoulder. The room fell out of focus. The music dropped to just audible. Jeannie applied some pressure to George’s left hand and the room went black, but for a moment. The lights came up and he found himself staring into her eyes.

Such a little thing, George thought. Could have sworn Jeannie McCusker’s eyes were brown. The beautiful, short, black Irish, girl upon who he had bestowed a crush since they were both 12, looked into his eyes as they danced during Sterling High School’s five year reunion.   

           Now her eyes were green. Smiling Irish green.

           “You wearing contacts?”

           “Yes,” she answered. Her compact frame pressed a little closer.

           “Uh, colored contacts?”

           “No,” she said and pulled her head back from his shoulder.

           “I could swear you had brown eyes in high school.”

           “Dogs change eye color. Not people.”

           “Actually, that’s not true. Your eye color isn’t set until you're 24 months old.”

           She laughed that musical laugh that made him fall in love with her in Junior High, and now he held her tight fifteen years later. He felt her inhale, and Jeannie's warmth spread throughout his body.

She lifted her head off his shoulder, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. It lingered just long enough for him to hear her rhythmic breathing, which matched his.

They broke the kiss. Jeannie wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer.

           And then he asked the question.

           “What song is this?”

           “Are you joking?”

           “No. I've never heard it before.”

           Jeannie pushed herself away from him and stared. She placed her hands on her hips, squared her shoulders, and bit her lower lip to the right side, just as she had always done in high school. George thought about another kiss, but she spoke first.

           “The biggest hit of 1975. Return Forever by Platinum Rye, and you never heard of it? It was the theme to the senior prom!”

           Jeannie’s voice rose just enough to get the attention of a few other couples nearby.

           “Sorry,” said George. “Don’t remember it. Or my date.”

           She laughed again.

           “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”

           “A what?”

           “A drink, silly. I think you could use one.”

           She stared at him again.

           “Are you messing with me about the prom?” She placed her hands on her hips and locked eyes, green eyes, with his.

           “Jeannie, no,” he choked out. “I have never heard of that song. What does it matter? But your eyes were brown in high school. I know it. Are you messing with me?”

           She wiped her hands on her black skirt.

           “I did not want to do this so soon, but—”

           She marched forward; took George’s face in her hands; and kissed him full on the mouth. It only lasted long enough for him to realize he had never kissed Regina McCusker before that time. He opened his eyes and saw a flash of black skirt disappear into the crowd of dancers. He charged forward and bumped into Steve Alexander, a good friend from his class.

           “Whoa!” Steve said, his Hollywood leading man’s good looks only enhanced by another five years. “What is the rush?”

            “Steve! Sorry. Just trying to catch up with Jeannie McCusker.”

           Steve dropped his partner’s hand, a pretty blonde George didn’t recognize. George realized his friend’s strong grip on his forearm.

           “Uh, let’s grab a seat,” said Steve. “Wait. Let me get a couple drinks. Wait right here, and don’t move.”

           George sat down on one of the cheap ballroom chairs. He scanned the room. No sign of Jeannie McCusker. Steve returned with two rock glasses filled with a clear liquid.

           “Straight back.”

           George downed the alcohol.

           “Tequila? Really? This is southern New Jersey, for God’s sake.”

           Steve slapped the glass down on the table. He held a half empty bottle of Patron and placed it on the ballroom table.

           “Everything alright in New York? Was that your first drink of the night?

           “Yes, and yes.”

           “And you were looking for Jeannie McCusker?”

           “Yes, I just danced half a dance with her.”

           Steve poured another two ounces for each of them.

           “Again, straight back,” said Steve, and he waited until George downed the double shot of Tequila.

           “Jeannie died in a car accident two years after we graduated. Just what in Hell are you talking about?”

           George jumped out of his chair, which tipped over and caught one of the rock glasses. It hit the floor and exploded. The dancing couples closest to him stopped at the sound. Steve reached out to stop him, but was too slow.

           At the exit door George spotted Jeannie. She stepped outside.

           He sprinted through the crowd knocking over a couple of his former classmates. George crashed through the double doors and caught one final glimpse of a black skirt melting into the darkness of parking lot. The pine trees that lined the outside smelled of Autumn. A chill went through George, but there wasn’t a hint of wind.

           That musical laugh.

           “See you in five years?”

           “Jeannie?”

           “You know at the next, how perfect, reunion?”

           Her laugh faded

           George stood and stared out at Lake Lenapi, the body of water which surrounded the back of the ballroom. He broke down and dropped to the ground.

           “Yeah, I’ll be there.”