The Best Laid Plans

by Mataya, Tamara

  “Nope, I can reacquaint myself with everyone at the dance itself. I’m fine to play right away.”

  “Great! I’ll show you to the stage.”

  “Have they moved it?” He joked, picking up his guitar.

  “What?”

  “Former band geek, remember? I can show myself there if you have things to do.”

  She flashed a grateful expression at him. “Would you mind? The school got a pretty sweet set up from a grant for the sound system – of course that was years after our time. But everything is all set up on stage, all you have to do is plug in and let ’er rip!”

  “That would have been nice to have when we went here.”

  “I know. You sure you don’t mind? I do have some more things to organize, but if you’d like an escort … ”

  “Not at all. I’ll see you inside.” He waved to Theresa, and walked down the hall toward the gymnasium. The gym sat on the far east side of the school, two hallways on the east and west side led to its indoor entrances. Had the halls always been this small? He felt like a giant, though compared to his high school self, he supposed he was.

  The doors were closed. A set of stairs just before the door led backstage when the curtains were drawn, leading onstage when the partition was open.

  The sounds of laughing and talking buzzed from the backstage door. The partition separating the stage from the gym was open. It wasn’t until he stepped onto the stage and walked across it to the amps, that he realized he wasn’t nervous. He’d forgotten to be, so wrapped up in how he was going to win Jayne over that everything else had been blotted from his mind. Heads turned his way, but he moved with a quiet confidence, knowing that he had to focus on Jayne.

  Though the appreciative looks he got made him feel a bit smug.

  His heart began to beat a little faster. Was she in the crowd now? He snuck a glance at the audience while taking his guitar from the case, but the stage lights were too bright and blocked out anyone who wasn’t standing within ten feet of the edge of the stage. Had she noticed him yet, recognized him yet? Would she think this was the gig he’d mentioned, or would she put two and two together when she saw his name tag, or heard someone speak his name?

  He grabbed his phone to see if she’d called. No new messages. Damn. He texted that he missed her, and then put the phone away. If she watched him text, and then got a call, maybe … he didn’t even know what ‘maybe’ would happen. This was so crazy.

  What would happen? He’d been turning it over in his mind for weeks, but still had no idea what to say to her. If she walked out on him … but he couldn’t think about that. He had to be with her because he needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. And going back to being without her would be worse than anything that had ever happened to him in his life.

  Alone on stage, just him and his guitar. It fit that he had no band to back him up. Time to stand on his own.

  He plugged in his guitar, took a seat, adjusted the mic, and started to play.

  “Shit.” The woman in the stall next to Jayne’s cursed.

  Out of toilet paper? Reflexively, Jayne checked her own. She had plenty.

  “Excuse me. This is really awkward and I hate when people talk to me while I’m going to the bathroom, but do you by any chance have a spare tampon?” She sighed. “God this is embarrassing.”

  “Wow, that sucks,” Jayne commiserated to make her feel better. “Let me check my purse.” She dug around and found one. “Here.” She held it under the stall’s partition. A French-manicured hand took it.

  “Thank you so much. I’m normally better prepared, but the stress of this thing has screwed with my hormones.”

  Maybe TMI, but Jayne so knew how she felt. Her knees had only just stopped shaking. Besides, stress was a bitch: Universal Truth. The woman rambled, but she was clearly a kindred soul, so Jayne responded politely,

  “You mean the reunion?”

  “Yeah. I’m definitely not looking forward to seeing certain people.”

  “I hear that!” Jayne flushed, and then left the stall.

  “High school sucked. I try to forget it ever happened for the most part, but some things just don’t go away. And here we are, at the scene of the crime.”

  Goddamn. Where had she been in high school? They could have been best friends and been invisible together. “Yeah. We carry a lot of things with us.” Jayne spoke softly, but it carried.

  “Exactly.”

  She pumped out some of the gross pink soap into her hand, and waved her other in front of the motion sensor, unsurprised when it didn’t register her hand. They hadn’t worked properly when she’s been a student here, she didn’t know why she thought they’d be efficient now. The toilet flushed. Jayne was still waving her hand under the faucet when her new bathroom buddy came out of the stall and smiled at her.

  “You saved me big time!”

  It was Sarah Bray.

  Jayne felt her jaw working, but no sound came out.

  Sarah. Fucking. Bray.

  She had just helped her teenage public enemy number one.

  The worst part; she looked the same. Maybe a little softer, had better hair. But she didn’t have a tragically saggy ass, or a pot belly. Her arms were toned, and her makeup was fresh and light. Her pale pink dress was tasteful, and her shoes were outstanding. There was nothing that could be ridiculed. Nothing! Her perfection was devastating.

  And she spoke again as she washed her hands. “Your shoes are amazing! Louboutins?”

  Jayne nodded, dried her hands on some of the scratchy, brown paper towels, and finally found her voice. “Yours too from the looks of it.”

  Sarah nodded. “I had to save forever to get these, but … ” Her face froze, and she peered a little closer at Jayne.

  “Jane? Jane Griffin?” Her eyes jumped to Jayne’s name tag, and back to her face.

  Oh, goody. She’d recognized her. “In the flesh.”

  “Oh my God.” Sarah paused, water dripping from her hands, her face rapidly darkening.

  She’d realized who she was talking to.

  Jungle Jane.

  Any second that sneer would sidle across her beautiful features, turning them from open and friendly to cruel. Wait for it …

  “You look fantastic! I love the red hair, it really suits you!”

  Still waiting for it … “Thanks.” Jayne waited for the triumphant feeling to fill her, she could afford closets full of Louboutins at any time, and her old enemy had complimented her. But the triumphant feeling never came. Instead it felt like she’d been ambushed. She swallowed hard and turned to go.

  “Jane, wait.”

  Jayne froze and turned. Here it was. Sarah waited until Jayne looked her in the eyes again.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “What?” Jayne hadn’t thought ‘sorry’ existed in Sarah’s vocabulary, never mind emotional range.

  Sarah had stepped away from the sink, hands still dripping. She didn’t seem to notice. The deep breath she hauled in sounded shaky and she gnawed the gloss from her lower lip.

  “I was a huge, throbbing, mega bitch in high school, not just to you, but to a lot of people.”

  “Yes, you were.” Jayne crossed her arms.

  “The truth hurts, Jane.”

  “As it should.”

  Sarah flinched and nodded. “I’ve lived with what I did, but it never sat right with me. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to pretend a different person did those awful things, and treated people like they were less than nothing.”

  Jayne’s anger caught up to the situation then, apology be damned. “That would be so convenient wouldn’t it? Divorcing yourself from your actions so you didn’t have to claim any of the responsibility for them.”

  “That’s just it! I couldn’t do it. I’m married now, and we’ve wanted kids for some time.” She looked away. “I’ve been putting it off because I couldn’t stand it if they turned out like me. Like I was. I feel like I can’t do that until I apologize for what I did.” S
he must have heard Jayne’s intake of breath because she looked up and rushed on, “I know they’re only words, but I mean them. I don’t deserve, and definitely don’t expect your forgiveness, by any means, but I had to tell you that I am truly sorry, and regret the way I was. I’ve spent the years since high school trying to be a better person.”

  Never had Jayne expected an apology, an acknowledgment of the shit she’d been put through. It floored her. But pretty words now proved nothing, and didn’t mean Sarah had truly changed.

  “Knowing you made me a different person, a better person, Jane.” It sounded like a line, but her face looked so sincere, and she wrung her hands, spilling water droplets onto her shoes. But she never once looked away from Jayne. “I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. I wish I hadn’t been mean to you. And I wish I’d have stood up against others who were as well. I stand up to bullies now. I’ve sort of made it my mission. I’m a Counselor.” She scrambled for her purse, dug inside and came up with a business card. “Look.”

  After a moment, Jayne took it. ‘Sarah Bray, NCC, Anti-Bullying Specialist.’ She was telling the truth. It was unbelievable. She’d truly taken reality to heart, taken a long look in the mirror, and become a better person. Jayne hadn’t realized she’d been dragging the weight of her past with her for so long until now, when Sarah’s sincere apology gave her an opportunity to finally let it go. Right here, right now, in this bathroom.

  “I even tried to find you online on different social networking sites, but never could. I figured you got married and changed your name.”

  “No, not married, but I do spell it a little differently now.”

  “Oh.”

  The time had come. She smiled at Sarah. “You dripped water on your shoes.”

  Sarah’s eyes filled with tears and she smiled back. “Fuck the shoes, this is more important.”

  And Jayne stepped forward and embraced her former tormentor.

  ***

  Malcolm had worn a black dress shirt, dark grey dress pants, and a metallic tie. Simple, not over dressed, but he’d mostly gone with the black in case his nerves got the better of him. Dark pits on a light shirt were a wet giveaway of your nerves. You could only play the ‘wow it’s warm in here’ card so many times. But he was surprisingly calm and dry. He expected to be nervous, but when the panicky feeling didn’t rise, he started to relax and enjoy himself.

  He loved sharing himself through his music. Even with people who had scarred his teenage body and heart.

  He played a couple covers, and a few originals. People started dancing and grooving to the notes he created, and he starting moving around a little more. And that’s when he saw him. Jonathan. It was only because he’d played the song a thousand times, and his muscle memory kicked in, that saved his fingers from fumbling on the strings.

  Malcolm hadn’t noticed during set up, but on stage near him rested an easel with a blown-up copy of Jonathan’s graduation picture. His giant face sneered back at him. Malcolm understood why his picture was on stage when he read the numbers at the bottom of the picture.

  1986 - 2005

  He was dead. Malcolm had expected him to be here, had expected a hard time - Jonathan maybe bringing up the past in a douchy way. He’d hoped Jonathan would be a smarmy used car salesman or something lame. But he hadn’t expected this in any scenario. His biggest tormentor was gone, and had been for some time. 2005? Just a year after grad.

  Malcolm played an extended guitar solo, intricate, and automatic, freeing his concentration for the sign.

  A small banner near the bottom encouraged donations in his name to an organization against Drinking and Driving, so that must have been how it happened. Only a year after graduation. He hadn’t even had a real chance at life, a chance to maybe turn things around and become a better person. Malcolm had hated Jonathan for years after he left school in grade ten.

  He’d been hating someone who hadn’t existed, wished bad things upon him for years as a teenager, but he’d never wanted him to die. He’d wanted something horrifically embarrassing to happen to him, unpleasant things. Never did it enter his mind that he wanted Jonathan, or even any of the team members, to die.

  He finished the song and stepped back to take a sip from a bottle of water while everyone cheered for him. He hadn’t realized until now that a large part of him had come back hoping to look awesome and show everyone up. He wanted to embarrass the old bullies by his new improved appearance, make them feel bad about themselves just by looking good, and being in a cool career.

  Now he felt like a loser. But that wasn’t right either. Because no one judged him.

  Some of these people would have made fun of every note he’d played back in the day. Now they were openly appreciating him, smiling and cheering. Everyone was here to catch up and have a good time, not judge the people around them.

  Maybe he was the one who had changed the least since school.

  These people, who had once been nasty children, were now friendly adults. Someone had read his name tag, and they had taken up a cheer. They were chanting his name like a high school hero who had just won the big game for them. They were openly celebrating his success, his skill with music, with no anger, no animosity. It blew his mind.

  And he’d come back to show everyone up and win Jayne over. It was so fucking lame and immature that he felt humbled. Not to mention that he had tried to run a game on Jayne when he’d seen her again, wanting to hurt her for something she’d done over a decade before – something that she wouldn’t have done if she’d known what her words had caused. His high school pain wasn’t her fault. It had never been her fault. It was the guys who beat him up.

  He looked out at the familiar faces, and the unknown ones – either people’s spouses, or old classmates who had changed beyond the point of recognition. The adults cheering him. But they weren’t the same people, and he couldn’t hold onto the wounds of the past any longer. He’d hated their ghosts long enough. And just like that, instead of wanting to show them up, he wanted to show them a good time.

  Because he wanted to be a better person too. It was time to let go of the past, let go of the hurt, here sharing the stage with a memorial picture of his former enemy.

  “This next one is a serious one for all of you, for all of us, and how far we’ve come.” They cheered and looked up at him expecting something profound.

  He launched into ‘I’m Too Sexy,’ and everyone screamed and stomped their feet. Everyone not on the dance floor surged toward it.

  Jayne and Sarah walked into the gym together, something that never would have happened ten years ago. They’d been in the washroom for a while catching up on the last ten years, sitting on the cold tile floor until their asses fell asleep and their voices grew hoarse from talking and laughing. It had been cathartic for both of them, and Jayne felt like she’d made a real friend.

  The lights were dimmed, and a disco ball threw sparkles of light around the gym. Blue and white ribbons, crepe paper streamers, and balloons were vomited all over the walls in strange clusters as if disinterested high school students had been the decorators, which they might have been.

  ‘Reach For The Stars’ was on a giant banner on the far wall, and mirrored by a smaller one on the front of the stage. Even with the majority of her bitterness having been left on the bathroom floor with Sarah’s tears, Jayne still thought the theme was lame.

  At one hundred and three, their graduating class had been one of the smaller ones to leave the school, but it looked like at least ninety percent had shown up with a plus one. Round tables with blue and white tablecloths were set up in a U facing the stage, leaving space in the middle for the dance floor. People were milling about with drinks in their hands, looking happy. Jayne thought about all the times the art kids had been caught spiking their Slurpees with alcohol in school and been suspended. Now they were all parading around drinking freely.

  A strange comparison that made her smile.

  “Sarah!” A perky blond
e came squeezing over to Sarah.

  “Milla?” Sarah asked.

  The blonde nodded. Milla had been one of the cheerleaders who hadn’t been actively mean to Jayne, but had never acknowledged her existence. “It’s been years! You look great!” She looked at Jayne blankly for a second, at least trying before cheating and stealing a glance at her name tag. “Jane Griffin! Holy shit! You look fantastic!”

  “Thanks.” Now that she’d let go of the insecurities, it was a lot easier to take the compliment as it had been intended.

  “You guys missed the entertainment. Do you remember Dylan Black?”

  Sarah nodded, and glanced at Jayne, who got the feeling he was another person who hadn’t been treated well by the popular clique. Jayne vaguely remembered hearing something about him being beaten up a couple times, but didn’t know him.

  “Well he’s a musician now, and oh my god has that man ever filled out in all the right places.” She mimed fanning herself. “If I wasn’t married … or if I had my husband’s permission,” she laughed.

  “Was he any good?” Sarah asked.

  “Amazing. He was amazing. Best guitar player you’ve ever heard.”

  Jayne smiled. She only cared about one musician. There was no one better than Malcolm. “Where is he now?”

  “He got swarmed by people wanting to catch up with him the second he stepped off stage. We just finished the speeches as well, you guys missed a lot!” She tutted. “Come sit at my table until the DJ finishes setting up! We can catch up.” Jayne half-expected her to take Sarah and ignore her, but Milla grabbed both of their arms and hauled them to her table, automatically including her.

  A small action that swept away the last blemishes of the past.

  They talked for a while, a flurry of people coming and talking to them, all impressed by Jayne’s new appearance, but even more impressed when they discovered what she did for a living, which was way more satisfying. A few asked for advice, which she was happy to give, and others got her card with the intention of setting up appointments to see her. She saw some people she discovered she’d been curious about and was pleased by their successes.