Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Collaboration #3: When we were Friends

Gloria stared at the name on Facebook.  Images from long, LONG ago came flooding back.  Two little girls walking arm in arm to school, giggling, their heads together.  In class, desks side by side.

High school.  Heads still bent together, giggling about boys, teachers, homework.  What if one made the cheerleading squad and the other didn't?  Yeah!  They were both in the school play.

Popular and inseparable.  Even when the boys asked the girls out, they knew it would be a double-date. 

So why, Gloria demanded of herself, staring at Lydia's picture: why had she done what she'd done?

Ah, the joys of social media.  Gloria and Lydia had befriended each other a little over a year ago and now all Gloria could think about was finding a way to de-friend her . . . twice, if possible.  The only reason her fingers hovered over, yet never pressed, the "are you sure?" dialog box was because she needed answers.

Gloria needed to know how her best friend--her forever-we've-got-interlocking-necklaces friend--could marry the one guy in high school who'd stolen (and kept) Gloria's heart all these years.  The one guy she'd always hoped to run into at the local mall, and flutter her hand to her face, casually saying, "oh, I didn't know you still lived in the area" or "my, my, you haven't changed a bit."  The one guy that still robbed her of a good night's sleep when memories of hot, steamy evenings hanging onto each other in the front seat of that old Dodge, with the steering wheel interfering like some aged, spinster aunt, would invade her dreams.

She'd loved her husband of twenty-five years, hating him with a passion when he decided to have a massive heart attack at the young age of 54.  Now, after five years of her skin rarely feeling the sensual comfort of another human being, she could barely get through a day without wondering where and what her high school sweetheart might be like.

Except . . . now she knew.  He'd wedded and bedded Miss Lydia D. Smitheray and, there was no doubt there would come a day Lydia would schedule a luncheon for the three of them.  To reminisce.  To talk about the old days.  To be a witness of how she and him would cordially converse across the table.

Well, it wasn't going to happen.  Gloria's finger pressed closer to the keypad to de-friend the now Mrs. Lydia D. Corvenowski.  But she couldn't do it.  Instead she moved the cursor to the little "x" in the upper right hand corner and watched as the website closed out.

She'd think about it tomorrow.   

Morning coffee in hand, Gloria logged into her Facebook account, dismissing the fleeting thought that she was quickly becoming addicted to social media. There is nothing wrong with being connected, she reminded herself. Ever since Paul’s death she had felt the need to work harder at personal relationships. After all, one never knew when somebody important would suddenly be gone -- or when somebody who used to be important would suddenly turn up again.

Gloria noted a new request at the top of the screen and smiled to herself. Lydia, ever the social butterfly, had sent her an invitation to join a new group. Help plan the 40th reunion? Couldn’t hurt. Heaven knows I have the time… Gloria’s smile vanished as she realized that she had another request, this one more personal.

A friend request from Frank Corvenowski? Gloria hesitated. I wonder if Lydia knows? Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out.  She clicked the “accept” button.

What was she thinking!  No!  Come back!  Oh, this was foolish.  He had no clue she was still thinking about him after all these years.  Her heart didn't need to race like this at the mere mention of his name.  He probably hadn't aged well, anyway.  So . . . now as a friend she could look and see.  Click.

Oh, isn't that lovely.  Here he is with Lydia on vacation, here he is with Lydia sharing a laugh and a drink.  Well, don't they look like the happy two-some?

Yes, Frank looks good, well, average.  Okay, for our age, he looks great.  I'm happy for Lydia.  I was happily married to Paul for years.  Happily married for years! Gloria reminded herself.  I am happy for Lydia.  Happy for Frank and Lydia. 

Yeah, keep telling yourself that. 


The following morning when Gloria logged into Facebook, there it was: a personal message from Frank, sitting in the open like a ticking bomb. Should she open it? She glanced over her shoulder uneasily and then laughed at herself. Paul had been dead for years. He couldn’t possibly be angry, but why did she feel so guilty? Unsure, she stared at it while considering the possibilities.

What could Frank have to say to me after all this time? Especially considering that he had done the unthinkable, marrying my so-called best friend. It’s all in the past, Gloria, calm down. No! What business does he have becoming my Facebook friend, anyway! The nerve of some people…

Seeing the colorful bubbles of the screen saver fill her computer screen yanked Gloria out of her reverie. Those bubbles reminded her of more carefree days, a time in life when she didn’t have to look for ulterior motives behind every little thing that people said or did. That settles it, she thought. I’m sure his intentions are completely innocent and it will be nice to reminisce about the glory days of high school.

Clicking the icon, Gloria quickly scanned the brief message. Her mouth fell into an “O” as she read the few words that were entirely in capital letters:

“WE HAVE TO MEET! CORNER COFFEE SHOP. 10:00 A.M.  IMPORTANT!”

Okay.  Did he mean today?  Like, right now? She looked at the clock.  9:33 a.m.  I'm still in my pajamas!  The man gives short notice!  That's so like him!  

Without another thought Gloria ran to her bedroom ripping through her closet, brushing her hair, trying to find which drawer held her contact lenses she hadn't worn in months and finally, putting her make-up on.  A quick brush of the teeth, reapplied lipstick and fingers through the hair.  She tried smiling in the mirror several different ways.  The surprised, "Is that really you?", the coy, "Hello there, stranger," or maybe the aloof, "I'm really busy, Frank, however, you sounded desperate."   

10:22 a.m. Okay, I am really going to be late.  This isn't my fault!  Does the man think I stay up all hours of the night just to see if he writes me?  She slammed the car door and pealed down the driveway.  Wait a minute.  Maybe it's good I show up late.  Let him know this was in NO way a big deal for me.  I took my time.  Hmp.  My nails look atrocious.  Maybe I should go have those done first.  

What am I thinking?  What if the man of my dreams -- I mean -- the old man of my old dreams -- doesn't wait?  Look at the time!  What if he's already left?  I should have called the coffee shop and paged him! 

Gloria floored it.

Time 11:02 a.m.  Maybe she had the wrong day.  After all, it didn't appear to be a good day as she sat studying her speeding ticket. Maybe, just maybe, maybe she had the right day and maybe it’s going to be a good day after all.  Gloria loves that word; maybe, as she smiled to herself.  Maybe!  
 
Gloria floored it.

When Gloria arrived at “Coffee Joe’s”, the local coffee shop, she quickly but nonchalantly scanned the room for the “old man of her old dreams”.  Her heart dropped when she missed spotting him.  Even though she saw his Facebook albums and she had stalked him relentlessly, she was still searching for the 18 year old Frank, not the “old man Frank”. Disappointed, Gloria got in line to place an order.  

What was I thinking? Am I insane? Frank is married!  Frank is married to Lydia.  Frank is married to Lydia, my former best friend, Lydia. I saw the wedding pictures, and the honeymoon pictures, and the happy holidays photos…All the damn Facebook photos that show how happy they’ve been since reconnecting five years ago. Damn Facebook, making life so complicated and getting your hopes up!

Gloria’s phone vibrates in her pocket as she reaches the counter to place her order.  “Hang on a sec, please.” She tells the barista. “Dang smart phone is always tweeting at me about some dumb thing.” Gloria takes out her phone, sees that she has two Facebook notifications. She clicked on the icon and reads them. Frank Corvenowski changed his relationship status one hour ago to divorced.  Followed by a message; “Hey gorgeous Gloria, are you going to make me wait all day or just until you get your latte? I’m right behind you sitting by the window.”

Shocked and shaken Gloria stood there mind racing oblivious to the barista patiently waiting for her to pull herself together and equally so to the “old man of her dreams” walking up behind her.
Divorced?  They have only been married five years… Divorced? That means not married.  Poor Lydia, poor Frank. Divorced? Gorgeous Gloria? That means… that means… Maybe.  Maybe after all this time… Oh! Maybe!

Visibly pulling herself together, Gloria thanked the barista for waiting but she changed her mind about the latte, she turned and watched as Frank walk up to her.  While she watched, she looked him over. Not bad for an “old man, not bad at all. Gloria gave him her brightest, most hopeful smile.


Hurrying over to the table where Frank was seated, Gloria slipped on a discarded napkin. Stumbling, she fell forward, and found herself in Frank’s lap. How embarrassing!

“Gloria,” he said with a mischievous grin, “I’m glad to see that you are so quick to fall head over heels for me, but maybe we should slow down a bit.”

“Frank,” she replied, pressing her hands to her pink cheeks, “You are as charming as ever.”

If he thinks I can be won back that easily, he’s got another thing coming! Oh, who am I kidding? He hardly even needs to try. My heart has belonged to this man for longer than I can remember…

"So, um, how's Lydia?" Gloria asked as nonchalantly as she could.  She seated herself across from him.

"I guess she's doing fine," answered Frank.  "She walked out last week.  Said she'd met somebody else.  And then I remembered her telling me that your husband had croaked.  So . . . why not give you a call?"

Gloria stared at him.  She was to get Lydia's cast-off?  Croaked?  Not a fitting word for a man who had been a wonderful husband to her and great father to their two children.  

"Why would she do that?  I thought the two of you were so happy."

"So did I.  She's really been moving up the ladder at her corporate job.  I think it went to her head.  Yeah, I was with her through all the challenges and then dumped. I was very supportive of her."

"I'm so sorry.  So, what is it that you do for a living?"

"Well, I was Lydia's cheerleader," he laughed and took hold of Gloria's hand, "and now I'd like to be yours."

"I'm sorry," she said again, "am I to understand . . . you don't work?"

"One of Lydia's complaints.  Can you believe it?  She made really good money.  Enough for both of us.  I looked your husband up on LinkedIn.  He must have left you a bundle, huh?"

Gloria sat back pulling her hand with her.  "Yes, he did," she smiled.  "He also left quite a hole in my heart when he passed on.  I've never gotten over losing him."  She stood up.  It was feeling like a very good day.  "But I am definitely over you."

She was still smiling to herself, even though she was pulled over once again by the side of the road.  Two speeding tickets.  Two speeding tickets in one day.  Wouldn't her kids love to know about that.  But still she could smile.  Frank was out of her life and heart forever. 

The police officer that walked up was near her age, tall with an angular nose and straight teeth.  "We really need to stop meeting like this," she said gaily as she recognized him from having given her the ticket earlier in the day.

He nodded.  "Yes, I thought that was you flying by.  Do you always drive like this?"

"No, Officer, honestly I don't."  Still he got his pad out.  "Do I, maybe, get a discount for two tickets?"

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I'm thinking no but what I'm really wondering is: are you married?"  What has gotten into me?  I am never like this!  He's going to think I've been drinking.  And, first thing in the morning!  

He stared at her for some time and she was wondering if there was a ticket labeled 'flirting with officer' when she realized that yes, there was a ticket for that that fell under another name.  "I am terribly sorry --"

"I'm widowed," he said.

"Oh!  Oh, I'm so sorry.  I do understand.  I'm widowed myself.  Five years.  Still difficult at times."

"Yes, yes, it is," he said.  Slowly he wrote out her ticket and handed it to her.  "Please drive slower.  I'd hate to have to identify you at the morgue."

"I will, Officer.  Thank you.  I'm sorry.  You have a good day.  You -- I -- I'll drive slow." 

He got back in his car and drove off.  Well, there was a nice looking man my age who works, she said to herself.  She glanced down at her ticket.  Maybe, ah, there's that word again, maybe they won't cost too much.  Maybe, I can talk my way out of one of them.  Oh, heck, go for two.  Paul would have been able to pull some strings.  Maybe she could? 

And then Gloria looked again.  She flipped it to the back and then to the front.  No ticket, it was his name and phone number. 

A very good day, after all.  No maybe about it.






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