Deja vu All Over Again

by Larry Brill

  “I like the other one. It kind of makes a statement,” he said.

  “And the statement is ‘I’m a goofball so don’t take me seriously.’ But it’s not that. You don’t wear purple plaid and green paisley together. I raised you better than that.”

  “Okay.”

  “How in the world did you survive when you were teaching down there at the little college?”

  “I guess they figured I was one of those eccentric creative types.”

  Fashion faux pas aside, Mother had advice on just about every subject since he moved back home. Many were familiar, things that he had heard forty years earlier. He would have dismissed them now as easily as when he was seventeen if not for the fact that, through the years, he’d learned, much to his surprise, that Mother had been right more often than not. He hated when that happened.

  Curfews. “Mom, I’m a little old for a curfew.”

  “Not when you’re living in my house.”

  Money management. “Mom, I can handle my own finances. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “Here’s an extra five dollars, dear. Just in case. You don’t want to be at Starbucks and not have enough to pay for your date’s espresso mocha latte, or whatever it is you kids drink these days. Suppose she orders extra whipped cream?”

  “That’s why God invented credit cards.”

  Regina handed him his brand-new backpack. She had made him lunch and put a bottle of spring water in there with it. His parents walked with him down to the sidewalk. The sun was peeking over the top of the eastern foothills. It was mid-August and going to be a hot one, but mornings in the Santa Clara Valley had a way of teasing you with a promise of perfect weather all day long. He felt great. After years of being scorched by people and events he couldn’t seem to control, he felt like he was wading into a cold swimming pool. Relief at last.

  “Nate, I’m so happy you’re up and about. You’ve been spending far too much time moping and just, I don’t know, drifting. This new job will be good for you.”

  “I totally agree. I feel good, Mom.”

  “And aside from work, I think you should get out more.”

  “Or you could just get out,” Charlie said. “It’s been six months now.”

  Regina dismissed her husband with a wave of her backhand. “I was talking about finding a girl. A nice girl, this time.”

  “I was talking about rent,” Charlie said.

  Nate blinked and then looked at his mother. “But I offered. You said you wouldn’t hear of it.” He had made the offer when the settlement with the Air Force was a done deal.

  Charlie scowled. “Funny, I don’t remember having that conversation.”

  Nate’s settlement with the Air Force wasn’t much considering his landlord got the bulk of the money. It was pretty cut-and-dried. As long as Nate agreed to a nondisclosure clause, he got a lump sum for the loss of his personal belongings. It was a pittance, but enough to pay a few months’ rent to Mom and Dad and enough to tide him over until he found a job. Now he was going to have a salary, and maybe get a life.

  Regina changed the subject and asked, “Nate, do you remember Mrs. Garner? Dorothy Garner?”

  He couldn’t fathom where that question had come from. But then Mom perfected the ability to bring any unrelated distraction into a conversation with a question from left field. This was a woman who, on a trip to the Grand Canyon, stood at the roadside overlook, scanned the vast canyon and the Arizona desert above it and wondered why dolphins didn’t come in different colors.

  “They’re all such a boring shade of gray, aren’t they?” he remembered her asking. He was twelve at the time. Nate believed he had inherited some rogue attention deficit gene from his mother. The constant daydreaming it fueled was great for storytelling but had little use in all the other aspects of life.

  “Mrs. Garner? No, I can’t say I know who she is.”

  “You should. She was your fifth grade teacher. I bumped into her recently and her daughter is single. And I was thinking we could invite them over for dinner on Saturday.”

  “Mom, I don’t need you to fix me up.”

  Regina was undaunted. “You haven’t made any new friends since you moved back home. It might help you stop pining and forget Valerie.”

  Talking about serious relationships with your parents was a slippery slope, he knew, regardless of your age. You needed to provide enough information to satisfy their curiosity, but give them too much information and you opened yourself up for no end to parental appraisal, unwanted advice and criticism.

  If only she knew. Valerie was just one more kick in the nuts out of so many. “Who’s pining?” he bristled. “The divorce was five years ago. I haven’t exactly been a monk,” Nate assured her. “I’ve dated plenty of times.”

  One was nearly serious. He thought about the months he’d spent with an actress finally coming into her own after slogging for a decade through a string of forgettable roles and TV commercials. He could relate to all of that, except for the success part. It was the longest relationship with a woman Nate had fit into his post-married life. Her name was Tina, and she went on to fame and fortune, and he went back to being rejected by the movie studios.

  Regina said, “Honey, I’m thinking that it couldn’t hurt for you to meet her daughter. I’m sure there’s a nice girl out there who’s right for you.”

  Nate didn’t know if that was true, but he was making the effort to find out. Eppie told him how to find Julie Cooper. She told him the Coop-ster was single and available. And now he had a plan to see her again. Then what? Seeing her again could be a huge mistake. But even if that happened, it would definitively stomp out the nagging curiosity of what if. What if he had done more when they were young and not let her slip away?

  “Okay, fine,” he said. “Whatever. Invite them over for dinner. I’ll try to clear my social calendar.” The sarcasm was lost on his mother.

  Regina smiled and raised her palms. “I’ll call Dorothy tomorrow. A little wine, a little conversation, that’s all.” She gave him a final peck on the cheek.

  Nate slung the backpack over one shoulder and admired his new set of wheels. He nudged the skateboard to get some momentum before he stepped on it, concentrating to regain his balance after a wobbly start.

  Kick. Push. Glide. He rolled down the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Starting All Over Again Is Gonna Be Rough

  “When he asked me to spend the weekend at the lake, I went out and found the cutest little swimsuit at Macy’s.”

  “I’ll bet you looked terrific in it.”

  “But then we wound up water-skiing with a bunch of his friends, and he spent the whole day flirting with some blond bimbo who came along and didn’t even touch the water.”

  “Like you weren’t even there. Barb, I keep telling you he’s such a jerk.”

  “I hate him.”

  Beverly and Barbara motored past Julie when she slipped out of the administration office, their conversation tailing them like a wake on the water. There was freshness in the morning air despite the fact that they would likely have a sweltering start to the new school year. The summer break was short and sweet, though Julie had taken a lot of work home with her to get a head start. None of it got done in the week she spent with Russell in Hawaii. The scenery. The waterfalls and the flowers. The sand and the surf. It was the best vacation she could remember. Granted, Russell spent more time with Superintendent Fox and two other school board members than she would have liked. But once the conference was over, she had him all to herself. He seemed proud to have her on his arm at the social events, sometimes to an embarrassing extent when he introduced her to Fox and the others. He never left her feeling like she didn’t belong. It was a far cry from the distance he had maintained on campus before the trip, and things got even better when they returned home.

  It was the first day back on campus for staff. The students would follow in a couple of weeks, and she was going to enjoy the calm before th
e storm. She strolled across the quad that separated the offices from the library with a cup of Starbucks. Vacation was too short. They had a handful of new teachers; Russell had asked her to be part of the initiation committee, with the assignment to meet with the newbies and get them settled in to the campus. A blue jay flitted from under a crease in the overhang of the admin building to a live oak across from her and squawked, perturbed, no doubt, that Julie hadn’t let him sleep in. By the time she got back to the faculty lounge, Carla was trying to salvage the icing on a cake she had brought for their first day back.

  “It slid off the seat when I had to hit the brakes hard at Dunkin’ Donuts. The guy in front of me at the drive-thru almost hit me with his rear bumper.”

  “He was backing up in the drive thru?”

  “Not exactly. He was sitting there like he didn’t even see me pulling up. Good thing I stopped in time. But we almost lost the cake.”

  Julie swiped a dollop of white icing that Carla had pushed to the edge of the plate and licked her finger. “Yum.”

  She went to the bank of mail slots in a shelf unit on the far wall, each one identified by the name of a staff member. There were only a couple of generic first-day forms there. It was too soon to get much. But there was also an intriguing small white card, folded like a pup tent and standing up and staring at her with a blank face. She unfolded the card.

  Smile, the note said in manly block letters accompanied by a crude happy face from somewhere out of the seventies.

  “I’m going to guess this didn’t come from you.” Julie held it out to her friend.

  “Cute. And you’re right. It wasn’t me.” And then as she finished patching the last dent in the cake with a flourish, Carla cocked her head. Without looking at Julie she asked, “So what did our Mr. Festerhaven do this time?”

  “What do you mean?” Julie knew exactly what Carla meant.

  Carla lowered her voice and motioned with her head for Julie to follow her to the coffeemaker on the far side of the room. “Come on. It’s just the kind of thing he would do when he gets in trouble. Very nice, but really.”

  “He hasn’t done anything that I know of.”

  “Preemptive apology. Otherwise, why the note? He must have done something and you don’t know it yet.”

  “Psh. Don’t be like that.”

  “Call me suspicious, but I think he’s up to something. He’s a man. If he isn’t up to something now, he will be.”

  It was a familiar joke for Carla. Her playful cynicism where her husband was concerned was part of the reason she was so happily married all these years. You only had to watch Carla and Larry together for a few minutes to see there was a deep current of love and respect below the surface of their teasing. Julie envied her.

  Russell’s secretary stuck her head in the door. Mr. Festerhaven was asking about the enrollment retention file that Julie knew was buried in her desk’s in-box. She tucked his sweet little surprise note into her pocket and waved at Russell as they passed his office. It barely registered with him.

  “So how is your day starting?” she asked when she returned with the file he wanted.

  “Couldn’t be better. But ask me again in an hour.” Russell smiled.

  She handed him the file. “Mr. Festerhaven.”

  “Mrs. Finch,” he nodded.

  Julie reached into her pocket and pulled out the smiley note. She stepped up to the edge of the desk and he asked, “And how is your day starting?”

  Julie swished the note card in front of him.

  “It’s starting out great. How could it not? This was a nice thing to find in my mailbox first thing this morning.”

  Russell glanced at it. “Hmm. It isn’t mine. Who’s playing morale fairy this morning? Mrs. Almeida again? It’s usually her.”

  “Nope. I asked her. Besides, that’s not her handwriting.”

  “Not mine, either. Though I wish I had thought of it. It’s nice.”

  Julie’s eyes narrowed. He might be spoofing and she told him so.

  He inspected the card again and then gave her a dismissive scowl. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would sign something with a little smiley face thing like this?”

  He had that right. It was a mystery.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. It must have been meant for someone else and it got into your mailbox by mistake.”

  That must be it, though it irked her that he could dismiss it as a mistake so easily, as if nobody might go out of their way to make a friendly gesture like that for her. Julie took the card and used it to strum the fingers of her left hand. Why did the note feel familiar? It was déjà vu without the déjà or the vu.

  Russell’s eyes darted past her and he raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh. You’re back. Great timing.” As Julie turned, Russell added, “Mrs. Finch, this fellow says he knows you. Julie, Mr. Evans here is taking over the freshman English class and Creative Composition for the visual arts."

  Goodness. She swallowed hard.

  “Nate, Julie here will be leading your teacher orientation this afternoon.”

  Something clutched in her throat. The curly, long brown locks were gone, and the face was sculpted gently by age but still had a boyish character of someone unaffected by worries or the demands of adulthood. That would be Nate to a T, she thought. If there had been any doubt at all, it disappeared with the goofy grin and the casual circular wave he gave her while leaning against the door.

  “Surprise.”

  “Boy. Well. Wow. Nate Evans.”

  “Julie Cooper. Cooper-Finch. Finch, is it?”

  “Nate Evans. Wow.” Quit saying that. “Wow. So many years. Here you are.” Oh, that was a brilliant response. Julie drove her hands into the pockets of her slacks and rocked back on her heels.

  “It’s good to see you again, too, Julie. Mrs. Finch, I mean. I guess I’ll have to get used to that.”

  “Freshman English?”

  “And he’s going to take over Mr. Larsen’s creative writing for the seniors,” Russell said. “I thought it might be good to take advantage of his Hollywood experience. Fiction in the arts.”

  “Experience? I’ve sold a few things, so I suppose that counts. Any blind squirrel with a laptop and Microsoft Word can get lucky in Hollywood once in a while. But who knows? Things have changed so much, what with YouTube and all that, I might learn a thing or two from the students. I have to say, it’s ironic. I didn’t know what a magnet school was until somebody explained it to me recently. On top of all the regular high school subjects, you guys have a whole special curriculum for film and theater arts, stuff that I can actually teach. Right here at the school where we graduated. Ironic in a cool sort of way.”

  “Ironic.” She could have been blindfolded and she still would have recognized his voice. It was unnerving after all the years spent worlds apart. Nate looked deep into her eyes as he talked and Julie feared she was blushing. She felt like they stood there without saying anything for a century.

  “Good. We’ve established the irony of it all.” Russell broke the spell. His eyes shifted from her to Nate and back before he said, “Okay. I’ve got a lot to do this morning. It’s nice that you remember each other and I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on. I’d love to hear all about it. Later.”

  Nate laid a hand on her arm after they moved into the hallway and then withdrew it quickly with embarrassment. He apologized. “Sorry. Flashback. Me and you here on campus. For a moment there it was like we never left.”

  “I see you cut your hair,” she said.

  “I see you kept your smile.”

  He held his gaze on her. Once upon a time, she would have glanced away when he did that, too shy to stare him down. This time she didn’t flinch. You flirt, she thought, though she was glad he said it.

  He stepped back and looked her over from head to toe. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  Julie shrugged with her palms up. “In the flesh.”

  That caused Nate to
pause. He was still smiling, but the warmth evaporated. He reached out and took her left hand. “Whoa. Look at this.” It was theatrical, a simple statement overplayed. It was her ring he noticed. He turned her hand one way and then the other as the diamond captured the light from the fluorescents. She couldn’t tell, was he admiring or assessing it?

  “Isn’t it sweet? Russell.” Julie nodded toward the principal’s door. “I’m still getting used to the idea. We got engaged last weekend.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Fountain of Puppy Love

  It was twelve thirteen on Friday, and Julie paused at the corner of the library. She leaned forward, sneaking a peek into the fountain quadrangle that sat between the library and the wall of lockers outside the English classrooms.

  Yep. He was there. Nate sat at a metal picnic table on the opposite side of the fountain, where he had spent every lunch hour that first week. She ducked as if afraid he might see her. As if it mattered. How silly is that? She held a three-by-five notecard in her hand. It had been folded in half and set in her mail slot that morning so that it was sitting up, waiting for her with its blank face forward.

  Happy Friday, it said on the inside. An anonymous author had taped a penny above the words: For your thoughts.

  They were more than a week away from the return of the student hordes, and the quad was blissfully silent except for the fountain that gurgled like a small mountain stream, echoing off the canyon of concrete school walls around it. Even from a distance, she saw his eyes pop open wide as she stepped from the shadows and around the corner of the library.

  “Just sitting here like old times,” he said.

  It was odd having Nate around, but it was fun, too. He was still handsome, enough to warrant a second look and a smile from more than one of the women teachers. Julie hadn’t noticed but Carla swore it was true. She wouldn’t name names except to say she overheard a certain potty-mouth English teacher who was almost young enough to be his daughter make a suggestive comment about Nate to her close friend, who was also from the English department. No surprise there. Barbara Unger didn’t seem to care who she told she would chase anything in pants if she chose to do so. Sadly, she never seemed to catch one.