chapter 2

You take your sweet time getting to the car. You need to. I'm impressed you can still walk after that desert.

Really, it's not so much walking as it is waddling. While you're clutching your stomach and moan about how you shouldn't have eaten so much. I tell you a good girl always finishes her plate, leaving out the part about you also finishing mine.

Like I planned, we still have half an hour before the reunion starts, so I drive you around and give you the chance to let everything settle down a bit. You just sit there, rubbing your belly, eyes closed, occasionally letting out a little burp. When one of your favorite songs comes on the radio, you softly start singing along.

I always love hearing your voice, even if you don't quite sing in tune.

Eventually, we pull into the parking lot of your old high school.

A lot of people showed up, I'm having a hard time finding a parking spot. You've noticed we arrived and you're looking at yourself in the passenger's mirror, touching up your lipstick. That little double chin you're beginning to get, I think to myself, is making you look way cuter than any lipstick could.

I take you in.

You're sure to make an impression. The skin-tight red dress proudly advertises every pound you've gained (and you've gained plenty) to the world. Your seat belt is still on, and it's pressing into your belly, making it bulge out over and under. It rests in your lap too, a good 10 cm at least. We hit a bump. You jiggle a bit.

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I can hear the buzzing of the party while I'm helping you out of the car. Even outside there are a lot of people, most of them holding drinks, some of them smoking. We make our way inside and are surrounded by the crowd. Right away I hear someone calling your name, seemingly from the far end of the hall. How do they do that?

You hear it too, and start walking towards what turns to be your best friend from high school. You told me once, you two were really close but you lost touch when you went away to college - you never did like writing much. She's wearing a black dress, also a tight model but not as tight as yours (her's fits). She's skinnier than you, but not much. Apparently reliving your teenage years, you both throw your arms up and scream and fall into a hug.

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I'm playing servant. You've been catching up with people and I've been catching up with your drink orders - and those of your friends. I don't mind, I prefer to watch from the sidelines sometimes.

No one seems to be commenting on your dress. People are trying very hard to avoid the topic of your looks in general. I did hear two women whispering about how you've let yourself go when I was in the restroom, but they both struck me as the bitter type that has turned salads into a religion, so I won't count them. No one is avoiding you however. I can see some people staring at you when they think no one is looking, but apart from that everyone is just friendly.

You're having a great time recounting old memories.

At 8.30 a buffet opens. It isn't meant as a full dinner, but there are plenty of snacks. Deviled eggs. Sushi rolls. Tuna wraps. Caprese salads. Potato croquettes. I'm considering getting some for you, but I'm not sure you'd want them, I mean you have to still be full from the restaurant...

As I'm being indecisive, I see I don't have to do anything. You, the woman you introduced as your best friend, and another woman are making your way to the buffet. Instead of taking a plate and returning to your table, like most people are doing, you just kind of stop in front of the buffet, grab a croquette, and start talking there. A few minutes later you take a sushi roll. You finish it in one bite. Then you scan the room until you find me and motion me over.