False Promises

BrokenLet’s get together again soon, she told me.  We had met unexpectedly on the campus of a small liberal arts college at the orientation for parents of new students.  We hadn’t seen each other since high school in Seattle in the 1970s.  I remembered when I saw her that she always dressed better and ran with a more popular crowd.  I told myself I ran with a more interesting crowd, but I’m not sure I believed it at the time.

She seemed to fuss over me, or was I imagining it?  Oh, she said when we recognized each other over nametags, it’s been too long.  How have you been?

But she didn’t wait for my answer; she plunged into her own life’s story; since high school she had made a successful career in real estate.  The kids – Jennifer and Jason, not their real names – were class valedictorians and went to State on their soccer teams – I only made up the first fact.  Her husband was a successful stock broker – a career with a limited horizon in today’s market, I thought.

Let’s get together again soon, she told me over the scrambled egg and pre-cooked sausage pancake in the buffet line.  The wind blew chilly on that September morning in south Puget Sound.  Yes, let’s! I reassured her.


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