Faded Memories

I was feeling a little nervous as my husband, Don, and I approached the lobby of the Keystone Marriot in Downtown Cleveland. The Ohio Autumn was creeping towards winter which meant cold days were on the way. The hotel lobby was decorated with orange, red and yellow leaves hanging from the branches of artificial trees spread throughout the area. "How do I look?" I asked Don. I had dressed to impress my Schenley High School classmates at our 25th class reunion. No one could say that I had let myself go throughout the years. Don gave me a kiss on the cheek and started humming "The Way You Look Tonight."

As we searched for the event directory, a man whose dark brown hair was starting to show streaks of gray approached us. He wore a badge with his yearbook picture on it. Douglas Atkins! Without the picture on the badge, I never would had recognized him. "Everyone is in the Vermillion Room," he said as he pointed to a winding stair case. I noticed that he had gained about twenty-five pounds and he was a lot shorter than I remembered. What I recalled most about him was the fact that he was the class pet of Mrs. Nelson, our junior year English teacher.

I was nervous because my old boyfriend, Jayson Gordon would be attending our class reunion for the first time. Rumor had it that he was doing quite well in his professional career. He had finished law school at the University of Pittsburgh and eventually landed a job at a high-powered law firm in Manhattan. Occasionally, his name appeared in the news when his firm was handling a high profile case. We had been a couple for our entire four years at Schenley. Everyone (including me) was shocked when we broke up shortly after graduation. I had been accepted to UC Berkeley and he thought a long distance relationship between us would not work. He had always been too busy to attend previous Class of

1992 reunions.

When we reached the registration table, a few of my classmates yelled, "Traci Ellison!" before giving me a group hug. "Honey, California has been good to you. You look great," Patsy Arnold commented. "I'm so glad that you were able to come." She turned to Don. "Good to see you again."

When Don went to check our coats, Vivian Campbell whispered in my ear "Jayson registered to come this year." I managed a nonchalant nod as if his attendance didn't matter to me one way or the other. Secretly, I was glad that he was coming. I wanted him to see that he wasn't the only one who had done well. Don and I owned a successful winery in Northern California along with a

Bed and Breakfast on the property. Our business had been featured in travel magazines throughout the country. We named the property "Hudson by the Bay."

Inside the Vermillion Room, classmates were greeting each other with gusto. I suppose we all acknowledged the fact that we were getting older and it was time to let petty bygones be bygones.

Don and I finally made it to a table not too far from the bandstand.

The reunion committee had planned a wonderful program which included music and dances from "back in the day," recognition of one of our teachers, a large collage of yearbook pictures for which the individual who could name everyone would receive a $100 Visa gift card. A delicious dinner was to be served. "Your classmates sure know how to plan an enjoyable evening," Don said.

Just when the servers were bringing the salads, there was a cloud of whispers and heads discretely turning towards the entrance. Jayson Gordon and his glamourous wife had arrived!

He had the erect posture of an important and powerful man. His wife had the snobbish air of the rich and famous members of society. She was wearing a black Valentino ensemble and I could see the sparkles of her diamonds from where I was sitting. Before they could go any further, Arlene Brooks, the chairman of the reunion committee, rushed over to greet them. Arlene's eyes

canvassed the room looking for empty seats. As luck would have it, she spotted the available space at our table. She escorted the Gordons to it.

Jayson seated his wife and sat down. He immediately introduced himself in a confident voice. "And this is my wife, Kira." She gave a dainty nod. He greeted each couple and repeated their names as he went around the table.

My heart was beating in anticipation as he reached us. What would he say? "Don Hudson," I heard my husband say. "Traci Ellison Hudson," I said when it was my turn. No flicker of recognition crossed Jayson's face. Nothing, zilch, nada. He acted like we had never met. Oh, you want to play that game, I thought. Anything you can do, I can do better, I told myself. " How nice to meet you. What did you say your name was again?" As the night went on, Jayson and I played "I can top that story." He talked about his job and life in New York. Kira was an interior designer who had done a fabulous job decorating their penthouse suite. I made Hudson by the Bay sound like a luxurious resort. There was a six month waiting list for reservations. Don was a master builder who created our home in paradise. According to Jayson, they were recently invited to dinner at the palatial home of Arthur Mellon, a scion of the well known investment banking family. Robert Redford and his wife had been our guests last Spring and they promised to return. (It was true. Robert Redford and his wife had stayed at Hudson by the Bay. Only, it wasn't the Robert Redford). Jayson countered with a description of their vacation home in the Hamptons. We usually spend part of the summer in Maui, I commented.

"It's a good thing Pinocchio wasn't there tonight," Don laughed as we left the hotel.