In Vein

 

Dianna arrived first. Some things never change. She knew Tammy would be last. But really, what was taking June?  She primly carried her purse to the front of the restaurant where a queue had formed. The woman over by the coat check looked a bit like June. But it couldn’t be. That woman had grey hair and varicose veins. That woman was old.

It had been 30 years since she’d seen her friends, 40 years since they graduated high school. Tammy and June married the boys they dated then. Their lives revolved around children and church.

They’d found each other on Facebook and arranged to meet for lunch, an arrangement Dianna regretted now. What did they have in common these days? The woman with the varicose veins turned. It was June. No question about it.  Even with the grey, she’d kept her Farrah Fawcett hairstyle. 

“Dee-Dee!” June cried.

“Ju-ju Bean!” Dianna replied automatically.

Forty years fell away as June leapt from the line and enveloped Dianna in a hug. It was pure joy – the night the Lancers won the provincial tournament all over again. Dianna’s smile filled her face. Her real smile. Not the one she pulled out at book signings or interviews.

“Ta-ta will be here soon. She’s—”

“Running late?” Dianna finished for her. The two laughed.

“Oh. Gotta be careful. Laughing leads to accidents these days,” June whispered through tears. Dianna shocked herself. She lived in fear of accidents, and yet here she was laughing about it, daring the dam to burst with each chortle.

Self consciously, she led June to the table, feeling foolish for having brought her purse with her. What would they have to talk about? They’d tried to stay in touch, but once Dianna moved to Toronto and then New York, the conversations were stilted. When June and then Tammy started talking about their children’s lives instead of their own, Dianna grew bored, then annoyed, and then silent. They had stopped calling too. Didn’t want to hear about the obscure magazine that printed her first essays, the 27 rejection slips she got before the first novel was published, or endless revisions and tedious editing process.

She spotted Tammy, making a beeline toward them, arms wide and smile to match.

“Ta-ta, you haven’t changed a bit!” Dianna exclaimed, thinking it was mostly true. Tammy was unmistakeably Tammy.

“Well, you look the same! I seem to have grown a turkey neck and crow’s feet,” Tammy said ruefully, sitting at the table and squeezing June’s hand.

“Why is it that we name our facial flaws after fowl?” Dianna observed.

June spit out her water and the three women laughed loudly and unreservedly. Diana hated it when other diners behaved this way. But she couldn’t help herself. She was transported back in time, hanging out in front of their lockers, gasping with giggles over Ju Ju’s dating exploits; or Mr. P’s awkward classroom gaffes or the way Shelly Green couldn’t stop talking.   

“Don’t look now,” June whispered.

Oh my god, Dianna realized. Shelly Green is here, and she’s headed to our table!

“If it isn’t the tornadic trio!” she bellowed, using the name adopted following Mr. P’s clumsy lesson on weather patterns.

“Well, I haven’t seen the three of you together since, well, Harold is 33 now, no 32, and he was born in March…”

Dianna hated when people did that math thing with their children. 

“… was it the reunion? That was when I last saw the three of you together. June, your Teddy is teaching in Floridale isn’t it? No Wellesley! And Clara married a missionary in Cambodia? No Cameroon!  Tammy, I saw your Darryl just last week about my astigmatism. And Jenny’s wedding is… is it Jenny? Or does she go by Jannelle now?”

You’ll never know if you don’t shut the fuck up Dianna thought impatiently.  She felt a sharp pain in her shin. Tammy had kicked her. Oh my God, was that out loud?

“Dianna. I saw you with Anderson Cooper last week. My goodness you have sold a million books, I mean who would have thought when we all hung out together that we’d—”

When we all hung out??? It was Dianna’s turn to spit out her water.    

Shelly stopped talking, stepped back, puzzled, and bordering on offence.

“Oh, Shelly, I’m so sorry,” Dianna struggled to speak. “I think I’ve swallowed a fly!”  She faked a barking cough, which backfired, sending Tammy and June into fits of unmistakeable giggles.

Shelly sniffed and walked away. Perhaps she felt like she was back in high school too.

“Oh, poor Shelly,” June squeaked through tears. “Swallowed a fly?  Dee Dee, where do you come up with these things?”

“Yah,” Tammy said. “You always had the best imagination.”

“Yes, and now thanks to Shelly, you know I’ve sold a million books and I know what all your kids are up to. What will we talk about?”

June regained her composure, “I hope she comes back to the table.”

“Why?” Dianna asked, cringing at the thought of more of Shelly’s talking.

“Because she’s our waitress and we’re never going to get fed!” 

The three women collapsed with laughter again. Tammy banged her hand on the table and other diners turned their way. Dianna didn’t care.

Have a good look, people! Yes, I am Dianna Moore, serious author, laughing so hard that snot is running down my face.

June put her hand on top of Dianna’s. “Let’s talk about menopause.”

They laughed again, a comfortable, oh-so-glad-to-be-here laugh.

 

These women knew her, Dianna realized. This was not the beginning nor the middle of the end of their friendship. She went to the lady’s room, removed her compression nylons, and sat back with her friends, bare legs crossed, showing the world her own varicose veins.

She felt young and wild and free.