Jill to the Rescue

It was Jill’s turn, so off she went to Kate’s to see what the hell had gone wrong now. She cursed and swore and muttered threats of violence as she stomped up the steps and pounded on Kate’s door. “Hey! Get your ass out here!” she commanded. “Let’s go!”

The door remained quiet. Jill pressed an ear next to it. No sound. Maybe Kate was dead! If so, Jill was off the hook.

She heaved a heavy sigh and tried again. “Kate! It’s Jill! Yo! Hey!” She banged on the door. “I know you’re in there!”

Still no answer. Well, shit. She tried the door and, almost unsurprisingly, it was unlocked. Jill let herself in. “Kate! I’m coming in!”

The place was a wreck. The cabinets had been cleared of dishes, everything was in pieces on the floor. Empty wine cooler bottles were strewn about everywhere. In one corner, it looked like something red had exploded. “Augh, gross!” Jill said, picking her way through. “Fuck this shit. Kate! I’m invading your home! I’m gonna steal your stuff! Come on out!”

Nothing. “Come on, Kate, don’t make me walk through your disgusting living room!”

She had to be in the bedroom. The door was open a little. Jill hopped from clear space to clear space, over old pizza boxes and around the remains of what might have been a TV once. “Damn,” she said to herself. “Looks expensive. Fuck, Kate, what did you do?” Maybe, she thought, those rumors of Kate going off the rails and getting the axe were actually true.

She finally made it to the hallway, which was full of dirty clothes. A rancid smell drifted out of the bathroom. Jill made an executive decision not to check in there. She peeked into the bedroom.

Kate lay on her back, pillow over her head.

“Kate!” Jill called. “Kate! Kat! Bitch! Wake up!” She picked up a pair of what turned out to be underwear and flung them at Kate’s inert form. The panties caught on her arm and slipped to the floor.

Oh fuck, she really is dead. What the hell do I do now? But part of her was thinking this is going to be an awesome story to tell those old bats in the faculty lounge. They’ll scream at this part.

Mercifully, or perhaps disappointingly, Kate’s arm flailed. “Shit,” Jill breathed. “You’re alive. Oh, good.”

“Muh,” Kate said, peering out from under the pillow. “Jill? Whayoo doin here?”

“Your door was unlocked, you fucking moron. And what the hell is all this? Did you get fired? We were worried about you!” Jill threw another piece of clothing at her friend. “This place is gross.”

Kate groaned again and tried to turn over.

“It’s been three days since you were last in. What’s going on with you?”

“Shbmbmba,” Kate said, and retched.

“Oh no way!” Jill leapt back. But Kate’s stomach was apparently empty, she only made nasty gagging sounds for a little while before whimpering and turning over on her side.

“I hate you,” said Jill. “Get up. Get out of bed.” She rifled through Kate’s bureau. Amazingly, there were still some clean clothes in there. “Here.” She tossed the clothes at Kate. “Clean your ass up. I’ll be in the living room with the moldy pizza. Then we’re going out, and you’re gonna tell me what happened.”

 

* * *

Somehow, Kate got herself clean. She even ran her head under the faucet in the bathroom (at least, Jill assumed that was what happened—there was still no way she was looking in there), brushed her hair and teeth, put on the requisite amount of makeup to make herself look passably human, and got dressed. Half an hour later, they were sitting in the Starbucks on the Turnpike, sipping coffees. The caffeine perked Kate up considerably.

“So,” Jill said. “Spill.” She regretted the choice of words immediately, as Kate turned green. She won control of her stomach, thankfully.

“Um,” Kate said. “There was this guy. And we talked all night. I think we may have had sex? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“…I had a lot of wine coolers.”

Jill laughed. “Wine coolers? You got drunk on wine coolers?”

“A lot of them,” Kate insisted. “You would have, too!”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” sniffed Jill. “But go on. This guy. Wine coolers. Maybe sex. How did you get fired?”

“I didn’t get fired,” Kate said.

“Seriously? How did you manage that? You haven’t been in since Monday!”

“…I quit,” Kate finished lamely.

Jill stared at her, stunned. “Oh,” she finally said.

“Yeah,” said Kate. “I kind of didn’t mean to.” She flinched, obviously waiting for Jill to unload on her.

“Well, um,” Jill said, groping for things to say. “That sucks.”

“You’re not going to tell me what an idiot I am?”

“I think you know.”

Kate looked utterly miserable. “Yeah.”

“Hey, look,” Jill said. “You might be able to get the job back. Call up Avery and beg. Better yet, go see him. You know how he is. Wear something nice, with heels. He’ll forgive you.”

“No!” said Kate, horrified. “No, no way. I’m not going back.”

Jill just stared at her. “You are an alien. You have to. What the hell else are you going to do? Do you have any idea how bad this looks, just up and quitting in the middle of the school year? You’ll never get another job this good. Groveling sucks but you have to do it sometimes. Jesus, Kate!”

But Kate just shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I just… I can’t.” She looked green again. “Excuse me,” she said hastily, getting up out of her chair. Jill shrank back, wary of getting hit by the spray (years of classroom experience had taught her the signs of someone about to hurl), but Kate recovered enough to sprint to the ladies’ room.

Jill, alone with two cups of coffee, traced little doodles on the napkin with her fingernail. Fucking Kate, blundering in to doing what Jill had always fantasized about: up and quitting in the middle of the year, and leaving those bastards hanging. Now she wouldn’t be able to without looking like a poser. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She waited around, but it became clear that Kate was going to be a while. Jill had places to go. There was homework to correct, lessons to plan. Jill had a life. She fished a pen out of her purse, wrote “call me” on the napkin, and took off.

Paula really owed her for this one, she thought, fuming. But then it struck her: now that Kate didn’t work at the school anymore, would she even see her again? Was the Kate Thing over?

Damn. It figured. Well, Paula would owe her something else.

Kate Hits Bottom

At some point, Kate remembered someone telling her, you either change or die.

Actually, Brian Kunitz had told her that. He was telling her now.

“So then,” he was saying expansively, gesturing widely with his arms. “I realized then, that I had to change. What else could I do? I couldn’t keep living that life.” He took another long drink from his beer, some local microbrew Kate had never heard of. She was on her fifth wine cooler. “I couldn’t keep being Mr. Perfect. You know?”

“Yeh,” she slurred. “Shure. I get you.” Kate got drunk really easily. It was one of the things Stan liked about her. “I think that sometimes I was like that. As a kid. Like I had to be perfect sho my mom would be okay with me fucking up sometimes. But I never was.” It wasn’t really the same thing, and she knew it. But close enough.

Brian continued with his story like he hadn’t heard. “I came home from seminary and it was like, bam. I got what I needed to do with my life and it wasn’t what I was doing. It was like God was saying, Brian, you need to do better.”

Kate giggled. “Jess hated your gutsh for leaving.” She only sort of knew Jess, but she remembered Mark blithering on about the fallout. “That wash a long time ago!”

Brian set his beer down with a belch. Kate giggled again. She was starting to hate the sound of her own laughter. “Ten years,” he said grandly. “A decade. Hard to believe.”

They’d hooked up at Pete’s, where Kate had made herself a regular recently. Now they lounged in her increasingly dirty apartment, where Kate had invited him when the bar got too crowded. She’d had the idea of seducing him for some fun, but he seemed way more interested in just talking. That worked, too.

“We were soooo young,” Kate said.

“Were we? I don’t know,” said Brian shrewdly. “We think we were naïve and innocent back then, but I don’t think so. I think we were just different.”

Kate bobbed her head in agreement. “That is so true. You are so schmart.” She finished her wine cooler. “I think I have more of these.” She stood up, swayed, and stumbled to the fridge. Yes! Three more left.

“The life I have now is much more difficult,” Brian said, “But it’s worth it. I have to do odd jobs to afford food and gas for the van, but I can do those. I’m fixing the steps at the church, did you know that? They pay me for it. I picked up all these carpentry skills from a guy I met in Fresno.”

“I wish I knew how to do that stuff,” Kate said. “Hey! I thought you did other delivery! Things.” He’d said that earlier. She was dimly aware that his story kept changing and shifting. This was the third time she’d heard it. The first time, the carpentry skills had come from a woman in Alaska.

“I do.” Brian cackled madly, suddenly. “Sometimes! You don’t want to know about it! But I do everything.”

“So you changed.” Kate twisted the cap off the wine cooler. Exotic Berry. Excellent. “You change or you die.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sort of like that, I guess. Maybe not die, but change or else. Change or suck.”

“Or die,” Kate insisted.

She remembered, then, who told her that, and it wasn’t Brian Kunitz. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Allison told me that. Change or die.”

“Maybe,” said Brian. “For her, it was literally true. Mark was seriously depressed back then.”

“He’s seriously depressed now!”

“She is a lot better now than he ever was. Trust me.”

Kate giggled again. God, that sound. She was so annoying. “Life is fucked up,” she stated flatly.

“Oh yes.” He raised his beer. “To life being all fucked up.”

“Cheers.” She chugged the wine cooler, and gagged. Brian Kunitz laughed.

***

When Kate woke up the next afternoon to the sound of her cell phone ringing, she found Brian’s shirt on the floor next to the bed. Had she seduced him after all? She checked around the apartment, but found no other sign of him. His van was gone. Maybe he’d gone to work at the church, or to deliver pot, or sleep, or whatever he did all day.

Work. She dug through her purse, fishing out the phone. Six messages: all from the school. Oh shit.

She erased the messages without listening to them. She called Avery, her supervisor.

This was the third time this month, he informed her snottily. You need to shape up. Come in tomorrow on time.

Change or die. “Fuck it!” she screamed into the phone. “I quit! I quit!” She threw the phone across the room, it hit the wall and snapped into two pieces.

Oh God.

She ran into the bathroom and puked up her guts everywhere.

Old Flames Sputter Out

Jess hummed a nameless tune as she walked along West Cedar Street. The night air was refreshingly cool and crisp, her heels echoed on the sidewalk. She didn’t regret accepting the invitation from Kevin and Leigh to have dinner at their new restaurant; they were good company, and she’d enjoyed the food. Their new friendship was one good thing that had come of the strange reunion at Pete’s last week. Leigh was a lot more subdued and even than Jess remembered, but she still had a clever, incisive wit and a loud laugh. Kevin had grown into a more confident, if still nervous and shy, man. They were surprisingly good for one another, and every once in a while, when they looked at one another, she could catch glimpses of what they’d suffered through together in rehab.

She began to regret walking from her apartment, still two blocks away. Her feet ached–clearly she’d chosen the wrong shoes. A nice bath would help, she’d do that when she got home. Then early to bed; she had to get an early start tomorrow morning.

She heard a car slowing down, and almost jumped out of her skin when the horn honked. She glared at the driver as he pulled alongside her.

“Well hey there, pretty lady,” he drawled in a terrible, fake Texas accent. “Where ya headed?”

“Hello, Brian,” she said evenly, not stopping.

“…That’s it? ‘Hello, Brian?’ After ten years, that’s your greeting? How about ‘Hey, it’s great to see you after so long!’ or something like that?” He still wore a cheesy grin on his face.

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up. Took you, what, a week?” She stopped and folded her arms over her chest. “I saw you at Pete’s. So it was you who set that up? I should have known.”

“Well, hey,” he said, flustered, “That’s not true.”

“Oh, really?” she snapped back. “I don’t believe it for a moment, it’s exactly the sort of crap you’d pull. You used to talk about doing things like that all the time. Now I guess you did it. Congrats. You didn’t even have the decency to say hello, naturally.”

“I didn’t think the time was right,” he said. “I didn’t want to shock you.”

She laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Good of you to think of me! Wow, Brian, you absolutely kill me. So where the hell have you been for ten years? Farting around in a minivan?”

“I’ve been here and there,” he said.

“Oh, mysterious,” she said, unimpressed. “And ‘Spiritual Delivery Service,’ what the hell is that? Do you deliver pizza for the Lord?”

“No, I help people,” he said, miffed. “I do God’s work. In my own way.”

“What a rebel!” she sneered. “Brian Kunitz, lonely drifter, here to help. How many fantasies are you living out right now?”

He plastered that shit-eating grin back on his face. “All of them, babe. I’ve got an interesting life. …It is good to see you again.”

“So good you couldn’t even say hello last week. You just had to sit there and bug Allison. Wonderful. She’s completely freaked out by you, you know. She called me last night.”

Brian shook his head. “I can’t get used to it, Mark being ‘Allison’ now. When did that happen?”

“A few years back. She’s a good person, she comes to church. Sits in the back, never says a word, but she’s always there to help out when we need her. Unlike some people.”

Brian ignored that. “Mark was always like that. Same old Mark, different covering.”

“Leave her alone,” advised Jess sternly. “She’s going through enough without you winding her up.”

Brian shrugged, still smiling. “He–she–called me. I go when people call. Comes with the territory. So… can I give you a lift home?”

“I don’t think so,” said Jess stiffly.

“Maybe we can get a coffee. Catch up.”

“Not interested.”

“Are you sure? I know a place out on the Turnpike. They’re open late.”

“No,” retorted Jess. “I have an early day tomorrow. Church stuff, then work.”

“Ah, always church. You still at the same old one?”

“Of course,” said Jess.

“How’s the old rev. doing?” Brian asked. “I miss him.”

“Left years ago,” she said. “Transferred clear across the country. I think he was looking for you. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

Brian shrugged. “Sorry.”

She glared at him. He sighed.

“Maybe I ought to get going. It’s been good to see you. We should catch up, really.” He put the minivan into gear.

“I waited for you,” Jess said quietly. Brian glanced back at her, his expression unreadable. “I waited for years, but you never came back. You never called. Not even an email, just to let me know you were still alive. I stopped waiting a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I could try to explain it, over coffee.”

She shook her head. “Drive away, Brian. I don’t want you back in my life.”

He sighed. “If you reconsider, talk to Allison. She has my cell.” He gunned the van and swerved out onto the street.

Jess smirked in satisfaction. Got to him. Good. Bastard.

Between Sisters

Allison went over to Kate’s apartment, because she didn’t feel like spending another evening alone. Kate frowned and sighed when she opened the door to find Allison there.

“Hey,” Allison said. “Um. Thought I’d stop by… I was in the area.”

“Yeah, right,” said Kate, but let her in anyway. “You really need to find some friends.”

“I have friends.”

“You have your support group,” said Kate, but there was no heat to her words. They had the same argument every week. “It isn’t the same.”

There was a ritual to Allison’s visits (Kate never bothered coming to Allison’s). They’d argue about Allison’s life, then they’d complain about mom’s new boyfriend-of-the-month, then watch TV for a while and eat ice cream. Sometimes, if Allison was lucky, Kate would complain about Stan. Allison despised Stan.

The ritual didn’t matter this time, though. Allison had news.

“I do have friends, and you’ll never guess who I spent part of the day with today!”

Kate put some tea on. “Oh, do tell.”

“Are you ready for this?” Allison paused for a moment, just to make sure Kate was, indeed, ready for it. “Brian Kunitz!”

Kate looked at her, puzzled. “Who?”

Allison threw her arms up in the air. “Come on, you remember Brian! I used to hang out with him in high school! He sort of dated Jess Monson, then disappeared?”

“Ah,” said Kate. “Church guy. I remember him now. Stan knew him.”

“Stan used to torture him,” said Allison, relishing the hyperbole. “But he’s back. He’s been gone for ten years! He turned up at the thing the other day.”

“He did? I didn’t see him.”

“He was there, we talked. I saw him today, we rode around while he did his job. He’s, uh, like a traveling minister, sort of.” Allison smiled. “He’s really different now. You really don’t remember him?”

“I told you, I do,” said Kate mildly. “Just not well. He was your grade, right?”

“He was a good friend back then,” said Allison. “And he doesn’t judge me now. That’s pretty good for a minister.”

“I suppose,” Kate said.

“Earth to Kitty,” said Allison, waving a hand in front of her face. She slapped it away.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “You don’t want me starting to call you Marky Mark again, do you?”

Allison giggled. “You only ever called me that once! But don’t you dare!”

Kate rummaged in her silverware drawer, and pulled out spoons for the tea. Her expression might as well have been etched in stone.

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked.

Kate shook her head. “Sorry. Long day at work.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” She suddenly jabbed at the stovetop dial, switching it off. The tea slowly stopped boiling. “Go home. I don’t feel like company tonight.”

“But–”

“Just go. I want to be alone.”

“Hey, if you need anything, I–”

“Mark.” She slammed a teacup on the counter. It shattered into a thousand fragments. Kate shut her eyes tightly, clenching her teeth. “Go. Home.”

“Okay,” said Allison, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry. I’m, um. I’m going now. I’ll see you next week?” She let herself out of her sister’s apartment, shutting the door behind her with a click.

—

Kate poured herself something strong and sat on the couch. She took a sip and grimaced. She hated this stuff. She took another sip, a bigger one this time.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Brian’s Spiritual Delivery Service

They cruised into Parkville, and headed towards Third Street.

“What are you delivering?” asked Allison. “Or is that, uh, a secret too?”

“You’ll see,” said Brian with a mischievous grin. “Hey, how’s your sister? I saw her at the thing the other day. I heard she got married, is that true?”

“Yeah,” said Allison. “But it didn’t last. They divorced last year. She’s with Stan now.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Stan? You mean Stan Stupinsky?”

“Yeah.”

“He used to date Leigh, didn’t he? I remember, I remember. They used to give me a hard time, him and his friends.”

“Me, too,” said Allison. “Do you remember, we’d hang out and they’d make jokes. Like we were a couple.”

“Heh,” said Brian. “That wouldn’t be such a big deal now, right? Just another straight pair.”

“Right,” said Allison. She remembered a second too late, and coughed out a tiny, forced laugh.

They pulled onto a narrow, shady street. Brian checked the address written on a little card he pulled from his shirt pocket, and parked the van in front of  nondescript ranch house. He sized Allison up again. “Hm. Maybe it’d be best if you waited here. No offense, it’s just that this can be a delicate moment.”

“Sure,” said Allison, feeling a little hurt.

Brian grabbed the book-shaped package and swung out of the van. Allison sighed and dug her cell phone out of her purse. Maybe someone had sent her an email. Nope.

Someone knocked on the window; she jumped. “Hey,” Brian said. “Sorry. Come on with, it’s okay.”

Allison suddenly wanted very much to stay in the van, but followed Brian up to the door. He knocked. A young woman answered.

“Lucy?” She nodded. “I’m Brian, this is my friend Allison. Look, this is for you, and there’s a letter that comes with it. I’ll tell you right off, it’s nothing easy.” He handed her the package. “I knew the man who sent it, and I’ll be glad to wait right here and answer questions if you need me to.”

“Who is it from?” she asked suspiciously.

“Your biological father,” Brian answered. “I met him in California, and he wanted me to give this to you…”

—

They spent an hour with Lucy, as Brian told her some stories about her father, and how he had cared about her even though he never knew her. The package was a photo album of his life. He had no one, Brian explained, to give it to. He regretted so many things.

Allison sat quietly and listened as Brian spun the tale of the man’s life and woes. Lucy was reduced to tears by the end, and Brian held her hand while they prayed together. Allison, moved, even joined in.

When they finally left, Allison was nearly in tears herself. She got back into the van. “So you really knew that guy, huh?”

“Nah, not really,” said Brian, shrugging. “I mean, I knew him a bit… I met him right at the end of his life. He asked me to take this, and he told me his story.” He grinned sheepishly, for a brief moment the Brian whom Allison had known years ago. “I may have made some of the stories up, or embellished a bit. But I did what he asked. I brought him to her.”

“…And this is your job? This is what you do?”

“Well, no and yes. It is what I do, it’s my calling. It’s the ministry I was put on Earth to do. But it isn’t my job. I don’t get paid for it.”

“Then how–?”

Brian shook his head. “I deliver other things. Better you don’t ask what.”

“Ah,” said Allison, looking like she understood.

“Hey,” said Brian. “Want to go get some lunch? I’m completely starving.”

God’s Own Minivan

“It’s a minivan,” said Allison dubiously. And so it was. Green, wide, slow; the sort of thing moms bought back in the 1990s.

“Well, sure,” said Brian, grinning ear to ear. “What did you expect? I got it for cheap somewhere in Colorado. Hop in, we’ll head down to Parkville.”

Allison opened the door, which had a hand-lettered sign reading “Brian’s Spiritual Delivery Service” and his phone number glued to it, and gingerly got in. She inhaled and had flashbacks to her elementary school best friend’s mom’s minivan. Had that been Heather? No, that wasn’t Heather.

“Okay, let’s go,” said Brian. “We’ve got some deliveries to make in the name of the Lord.” He laughed and turned the key; the van choked to life.

—

Allison hadn’t meant to call. She’d been sure that Brian had given her the number out of courtesy, nothing more. But the next night, alone in her cramped, cold apartment, she thought of him and dug the card out of her purse. She’d hesitated a dozen times before finally punching the numbers in and hitting ‘call.’ He answered right away.

“Hi, uh, Brian, this is Allison? From yesterday?” She was going to add I was Mark, remember? but he immediately greeted her with enthusiasm. “Did you still, um. You said, um…?” she temporized.

“Hey,” he said, figuring it out, “Let’s get together tomorrow! Does that work, do you have a job to go to?”

“Tomorrow’s my day off,” she said. She worked in tech support.

“Great! I’ll see you at 1o, I have some rounds to make in town. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

—

And so she found herself speeding down Cedar St. in Brian’s green minivan, bound for some place in Parkville.

“So Allison,” Brian said. “What do you do now? You said you have a job?”

“I do tech support,” she said.

“That sounds really mind-numbing, I don’t think I could even do it for a day,” Brian said. He switched on the radio. Country music blared through tinny speakers. “You mind if I listen?” Allison shook her head no, even though she didn’t really like country music.

“What, um. What do you do?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

“Parkville, on Third Street. And it’s a delivery service, just like it says on the side!” He laughed, a big belly laugh that she never would have imagined could ever come out of quiet, studious, nervous Brian Kunitz.

“You seem. Um. Different,” she said.

“Do I? I don’t feel different. But I suppose it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.” They stopped at a light. Brian gave Allison an appraising look. She blushed furiously, feeling oddly naked before his gaze. “But you. You look… well, you look great. There, I said it, I’ve been thinking it since last night. You make a pretty woman.”

“Thanks?” she said, not sure if she should be offended.

“So what’s it like?” he asked. “It is different, being a woman now?”

She nodded. “Oh, yes! I feel completely different, in a lot of ways.”

“Like how?”

She considered telling him, but decided against it. “It’s, um, hard to explain, I think. But it does feel different.”

“You have that surgery?”

She rolled her eyes. People always asked. “No, not yet. Maybe someday.”

“Okay, I get it. People treating you okay?”

“Mostly.”

“Good. No reason to be mean to folks because they’re different.”

They lapsed into silence. They’d be in Parkville soon, to make Brian’s mysterious delivery. She looked in the back, and saw a small package, shaped kind of like a book. Was that what they were delivering?

“So… where have you been the last ten years?” Allison finally worked up the courage to ask.

He smiled. “That’s my business, I’m afraid.”

The Reunion

The message went out to each and every one of them: Come to Pete’s on the Turnpike tomorrow at 6pm.

They trickled in, one by one. Leigh arrived with Kevin. They’d met in rehab, and quickly fallen in love. They waited at the bar, and saw Stan when he came in. He broke into a sheepish grin when he saw Leigh. Their hug was quick, awkward, and Stan looked away at the end. Leigh swam in memory, his scent, his taste, the way he cocked his head. Kevin watched, troubled.

Jill and Paula burst in, heads together, complaining and laughing. Paula asked Stan about Kate, but he turned red, shrugged, and said that no, he had no idea where she was.

Jeff entered next, his suit crisp and well-fitted. There was a swagger to him that the others found disconcerting and strange. Jeff smiled and warmly re-introduced himself.

Danielle sat in her car for about ten minutes before working up the courage to get out, and naturally that was the moment Heather turned up with her husband. They kissed and he sped off somewhere, promising to return when she called. Danielle lit a cigarette and pretended not to notice her. Heather obliged, or maybe she really didn’t recognize her. She smelled wonderful as she passed, and Danielle hated herself a little more. After a few minutes, she deftly flicked the cigarette across the parking lot and sauntered in.

Kate and Allison arrived together. I can’t do this, Allison said over and over. I can’t face them. But Kate gave her sister a hug and said yes, love, you can. They won’t make a big deal out of it.

Of course, as soon as Allison entered everyone stared. No one talked to her, though, and she sat by herself, nursing a beer.

The last to arrive was Jess, who took a seat at the bar and ordered something stiff to drink.

—

Conversation ebbed and flowed. Stan and Kate exchanged a few terse words before withdrawing to separate corners. Jeff, who was apparently running for something, worked the room. Paula and Jill found Heather, and they laughed about school, kids and the job. Jess somehow found herself talking with Leigh and Kevin about football, of all things, and realized she was having a great time somewhere after her third beer. Groups formed and unformed, pairs spoke and turned to someone new.

Allison sat alone, watching her old friends. She tried to get Heather’s attention, but failed.

Why am I even here, she wondered. Life was difficult enough without dealing with people from high school. Depression and anxiety crept up on her, and she thought about finding Kate so they could leave.

She suddenly became aware of the fact that someone was sitting at the table with her.

“Well, Mark, everyone here’s a little different, but I think you win the prize,” he said. Allison’s eyes widened.

“Brian,” she whispered.

He smiled, an easy grin that she never would have thought him capable of. “You bet,” he said. “So… what do you go by, now? It can’t be Mark.”

“A-Allison,” she said, and matched his silly, goofy expression. “I’m so glad you’re here! I thought…”

“Well, I never planned to come back,” Brian Kunitz said. “But I got this note, and I couldn’t resist.”

“We got notes, too. I wonder who sent them?”

“Thought it might be a secret,” he said, nodding. “Well. That’s fine. It doesn’t really matter.” He gestured out to the gathering. “Look at them. All grown up, all changed. Jeff’s astonishing, I never would have thought. And look how much better Leigh seems. Where’s your sister?”

Allison pointed.

“Ah. And there’s Jess. I suppose I ought to say hi at some point. Maybe it’s better not to, I wonder. But she looks different, too. Ten years; everybody’s changed.”

“Especially you,” said Allison. “Where have you been?“

Brian ignored the last part of the question. “I haven’t changed one bit,” he said. “No, I’m the same guy. I just have more regrets.” He gave Allison an appraising look. “You know, maybe I was wrong about you. Why aren’t you out there talking to people?”

“I–I don’t…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Wasn’t it obvious why not?

“Hey,” said Brian. “I have to get going. It was good to see you. Here’s my cell number. Call me, okay? I’d love to talk to you more, catch up.” He stood.

“Are you going to talk to Jess?” Allison asked. “You should.”

Brian only smiled, then nonchalantly vanished out the front door. Allison looked around. Nobody else seemed to have noticed him.

She looked at the card he’d given her. Brian’s Spiritual Delivery Service, it read. A phone number was printed underneath; the area code wasn’t one she recognized.

She put the card into her purse, and went off to find Kate.

Popularity Contests

Stan figured he had a lot of friends. He was part of a big group of guys who had fast cars, and liked to race them up and down the Turnpike on Saturday nights. They’d gather in the McDonald’s parking lot to eye one another’s cars and girlfriends, and then speed off down the road, cops on their tails. Stan finally felt like he belonged somewhere.

Leigh was Stan’s girlfriend, and she found herself drawn ever closer into his circle.  She had no friends of her own anymore; all of the people she hung around with, like Jill, she knew through Stan. Danielle hadn’t spoken to her in months, and she never saw Heather anymore. No one saw Heather.

Danielle and Heather had one another. Heather sometimes talked with Mark. Danielle didn’t really like him, and avoided him whenever he came over. She went to school, and Heather worked in the shop downstairs. When people asked, Danielle lied and said yeah, of course she was still living at home. Why wouldn’t she be?

Joy took solace in the fact that her friends had problems. Betty had kicked her daughter out, and Troy’s stepdaughter ran wild. Her children were perfect, she told herself. She was important in this town. People looked up to her.

Kat hung with the popular girls, though they didn’t really hang with her. She tried out for cheerleading, and though she didn’t make it, she still practiced the moves in front of the mirror at home. If I try hard enough, she reasoned, people will forget all about what a loser Kitty was. Maybe they’d forgive her for being related to Mark.

Mark had no one except for Brian and Heather. He felt like Heather understood him, and that Brian might if he gave him a chance. Brian liked to talk about God, and Mark was content to let him.

Brian was good friends with Jeff and Kevin, and he knew lots of other people liked him. Sometimes he found himself drawn into long conversations with Mark about all kinds of subjects. Mark wasn’t a Christian, though, so Brian held back. That mattered to Brian.

Jess had Brian, but only on the occasions that he remembered she was there. She otherwise floated above the high school and the church and the town of Hartsville, observing but not really part of any of those places. Just give me Brian, she thought, and I’ll be happy. Please, God. Let me have Brian.

God had everyone and everything, Jess believed, but in His heart she suspected He was just as lonely as she was. He would understand.

Jill Dies a Little Death Every Day

There’s a point, thought Jill, after which it isn’t worth it anymore.

“Mommy,” began the little girl.

“I’m not your mommy,” said Jill with a sigh. “But what is it, Kayleigh?” Half of these kids were named Kayleigh, it seemed. She had three of them this year. This was Kayleigh T. Kayleigh T. was kind of slow. The other kids tittered.

“Um.” Kayleigh turned red, knowing she’d fucked it up. “I… [mumble mumble] hot lunch?”

Jesus holy God save me from this life, thought Jill. She was supposed to be an artist. She was supposed to write music, to create something wonderful that adults–adults–would be reduced to quivering, tearful blobs of grateful joy by. Instead: first grade. How does it happen? How had it been happening for five years?

“It’s too late for hot lunch money,” she sighed. “But give it to me, I’ll take it and make sure you get your ticket.”

—

The teacher’s “lounge” (a little, windowless closet with a few chairs and a coffeemaker) was crammed full. And why not? It was lunchtime.

“Oh I don’t follow it,” Miss Green was saying. “But as long as they don’t cut the budget again! Did I tell you little Kayleigh V.’s parents were out there with leaflets? Saying ‘save the school.’ Adorable.”

“Kayleigh V., is that the one with the braids?” asked Mrs. Halden. “Or is that the other one? I can never remember!”

“No, that’s Emily! Silly. That reminds me, did you see the cut-outs Heather’s class was making! They looked terrible! I didn’t want to say anything.” They giggled and started talking about the bus drivers, how one of them was sometimes late by a few minutes. Jill contemplated suicide.

Two bedraggled young women dragged themselves in and plopped down on the couch next to Jill. Paula and Kate, her only friends. Paula taught third grade, Kate was a reading specialist.

“Kid barfed today,” Paula began. Kate sighed. Jill perked up.

“Which?”

“Bradley Whitman.”

“He’s such a little dork,” said Jill with gusto. She’d had him two years ago. Awful kid, wore great big glasses and smelled.

“All over the reading space, all over it. So gross. On my new rug,” said Paula. “I wanted to strangle him.”

“Aw, he’s okay,” said Kate. She worked with him sometimes. Jill sneered. Kate had a soft spot for “her” kids.

“No I swear he did it on purpose,” Paula said. “He just stood up, walked over there, right on to that rug I bought, and did it. It was terrible, stank up the whole room. Thank God it was time for gym.”

“What is his problem,” agreed Jill.

Mrs. Halden, who taught second grade, leaned over. “Bradley? His dad’s a mean one. He came in last year covered in bruises. He always said he fell. No way, I know what to look for.” She shook her head.

Kate turned white.

“Figures,” said Jill. “What the hell. Families.”

Kate stood up, shaking. “Hey,” Jill began.

“I… I have to go.” Kate fled the room.

“What’s with her?” asked Paula. Jill shrugged.

Great. Now my friend’s having some sort of issues. This so figures. Jill sighed. She realized she should go after her. Someone should, to see what was wrong. She exchanged glances with Paula. Neither one budged. Then Paula rolled her eyes and got up. “I’ll go,” she said, clearly annoyed. “Your turn next time.”

Jill laughed as Paula left. She shifted position on the couch and felt something crinkle in her pocket. She reached in and pulled out Kayleigh T.’s lunch money.

“Oh, fuck,” she said quietly. She’d completely forgotten.

Oh well. Lunch was pretty much over anyway. Nothing she could do now. Jill leaned back into the springy couch cushions and watched the clock tick down the seconds until she had to go get her class. Go slower, she prayed, fighting back the dread. Slower.

The Long Afternoon of Brian Kunitz

They said later that when Brian Kunitz went to seminary, he came back different.

His friends from church noticed it first. That winter, over his break, he didn’t take a turn playing the organ (though he was invited—he was very talented) and he left right after the service was over. Rev. Hopkins had to stifle his disappointment, he’d been looking forward to swapping seminary stories with the boy. Kevin and Jeff tried to talk him into helping out with the youth group, but he brushed them off with uncharacteristic brusqueness.

Jess noticed it later that day. She and Brian had been fooling around, off and on, since junior year. He’d always cared what she had to say, and he was always so gentle and loving. Now, though, he just seemed… distant.

“What is it?” she asked as he pecked at his fries. He shrugged. “Is something wrong? Bri? Hon?”

“I’m fine,” he said. He smiled weakly. “I haven’t had McDonalds since August. It’s a little much.”

After, when they were driving around in his familiar blue station wagon, he didn’t put his arm around her. She tried to cuddle up close to him, but he stiffened and gripped the wheel with both hands. She withdrew, hurt and confused.

Jess saw his mother the next day at the grocery store where she worked, and asked how he was doing. She laughed, a short, sharp bark. “You tell me,” she said. But Jess couldn’t.

—

The next day she was driving home from her shift when she passed Outlaw’s, a biker bar out on the Turnpike. There, sitting in the lot, was his distinctive blue station wagon. Once she recovered from her shock, she turned around and sped back, determined to investigate.

He perched precariously on a bar stool inside, clearly drunk.

“Brian!” she said, aghast, gingerly settling herself down next to him. “What are you—why are you here? In the middle of the afternoon?”

“It’s not crowded now,” he said, as if that explained everything. His breath reeked.

“Why don’t we go somewhere?” she said, glancing around. There were some large men in the corner. No telling what they might do. “Somewhere else. Please?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

She fumed. “What has gotten in to you?” she hissed. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you came home!”

“Have I?”

“Yes!”

He mulled this over. “Look,” he said at last. “I figured some things out. I did some thinking. And you know what I’m going to do with my life now?”

She shook her head mutely.

“I’m going to disappoint everybody.” He laughed a very un Brian-like laugh. “Even you. Especially you. And God, too. God.” He shook his head and sipped his beer. “I don’t get it,” he murmured. “I just don’t understand.” He sighed and lapsed into silence.

After a while it became clear that he wasn’t going to say any more. She kissed his cheek, and left.

She didn’t see him again for ten years.