Today is my last full day in Seattle. I have the rest of my shopping to do. The big event is that I am going to see my high school friend Judy. She and I met at Birney Junior High School when we were 12 years old. Can you imagine? We were friends until we graduated from Southfield-Lathrup High School. Then we went our separate ways. She to Michigan State and eventually married and moved to Florida. Me, well, you know that story. We saw each other briefly at the 20 year reunion, this would be the first time since then.
I want everyone to go to dinner together. I know they all think it is weird. In Argentina it would be a normal thing. I am tired of trying to act in a way that is not me anymore. I want to share my time with all my friends. To me this sounds normal. I insist everyone come and join me in my last night. I am looking forward to it.
Jeff makes reservations at Ray's Boat House. We go to pick up Judy and her husband Robert. I wait for them in the lobby. I go to give them my Buenos Aires hugs and kisses. I am still not used to not doing this. I will never stop. I think this is a wonderful thing to do. Touching people. North Americans are so weird about this. Don't touch, don't look. What kind of society is this they have?
"You look like you could be my daughter!" she squeals. "You are crazy!" I laugh at her. She is beautiful. "You look great!" She does. She always did. She was beautiful in high school. She introduces me to Robert, her husband. He is a very sweet man. It is a good thing Jeff and Mary Lynne are here, because Judy and I are gabbing away.
The restaurant is on the water. We sit upstairs where we have a beautiful view. Judy and sit next to each other. She says to me "Do you remember when we kissed that boy in your bedroom closet?" That sends us off into peals of laughter. We had our first kiss with Clifford Dunn in my bedroom closet. We were probably 13 and took turns with him. Another one of those things my parents never knew about. (I am sure the vacuum cleaners are revving their engines now.)
"I love your hair." I tell her. In hair school I remembered her with long straight dark hair. "I gave up ironing it." she tells me. I am shocked. "You ironed your hair?" I didn't remember. I tell her I straighten mine. I show her my California Drivers License. She is shocked. My transformation. Hair was the bain of our existence in high school. It made us miserable. Our mothers never understood.
We want to take a picture of ourselves. We go outside the restaurant to the deck. "Oh great," I tell her, when I touch the door."Now we are locked out." We look at each other and laugh. It is like another one of our great adventures. We take some pictures and then a guy with a "real" camera appears. We ask him to take our pictures with our cameras.
We stay and talk outside awhile. We talked about people we knew. Where they were, what they were doing now. How some people who had been so rebellious were now the straightest, most conservative of our class. I told her how now and then people find me from my blog and write me. Of course most are surprised I ended up in Buenos Aires. It is a little far from Southfield Michigan.
When we want to go back in I tap the window near the door. There are 6 young men dinning there. They grunt at me and look back at their food. In BsAs they would have opened the door. Jeff is about ready to cross the room when one of the grunts finally opens the door. I thank him.
Our dinner is nice. I am ready for my Argentine food. All these foods with sauces or crusts or something. I just want my plain food. It is nice having access to fish and I do like it. I even have dessert tonight. This is my last night to indulge. I miss cortados. Capuchinos are nice, but they are not cortados.
"I was so bad." Judy tells me. "I used to sneak out my bedroom window. "Me too!" I laughed. "Dave Alfond would be waiting with his car. I would go with Laurel, Gary, and Nora, and whatever boyfriend I was with." I guess we all did that at one time or another. I would do it when my parents had parties and I had to stay in my room for some stupid reason or another. (I think it is good I live in Argentina, vacuum cleaners don't fly this far)
She told me about her family, her lovely children, and of course now her grandchild. It is weird to have a friend I went to high school with that is a grandmother. But there you go. I guess we are not eternally young. We always thought we would be.
We could talk forever, but the rest of our group is ready to go. I do not want the evening to end. I make her promise that she and Robert will come visit me in Buenos Aires. She is excited to visit. I do not want to say good bye to her. I hug her and Robert and tell them I will see them soon in Buenos AIres. So just like in high school. I didn't say good bye.