"Days off and Reunions"

"Oh, sorry about that," I said, stepping aside.
"It's okay," she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're Max, right? Gary said you're a good listener."

I'd just returned from my morning jog. I was about to enter my apartment when I bumped into a woman on the stairs. Other than the Makeup on her face in the morning, she seemed pretty normal.

"Yeah, that's me. Need help with something?"

she hesitated, then sighed. " I've been babysitting my ex's cat and... I don't want to do it anymore. I'm not even a cat person..."
"Have you tried saying no?" I asked

"I don't wanna hurt his feelings, you know. I...don't know."

And just like that, I found myself playing therapist before breakfast. We talked about boundaries, self-respect, and why it’s okay to say no to cat-sitting for someone who isn’t even in your life anymore.
"Thank you, Max. I'm glad I talked to you" she finally said touching my shoulder.
"You're welcome Ms. Tessmacher. It was my pleasure."

As she walked off, Daphne popped out of my apartment like she had been eavesdropping through the peephole.

"Who was that?" she asked, a mischievous smirk on her face.
"Miss Tessmacher. Nice lady."

Daphne leaned against the doorframe, grinning. “Do people normally unload their life stories to you, or is this a new thing?”
" I get paid to listen, Daph. Comes with the territory."
“Ah, so she’s a client?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.
"No."
“Oh, I get it. It’s a later kind of payment. You sly dog.”
"Can you just go inside, please?"
Daphne wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m just saying, you should hit that.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, holding the door open for her. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Today was Sunday. I had forgotten but today is my one day of rest, my day off.  Daphne made breakfast to celebrate her landing a job. FINALLY. She studied as a photographer in college, she was good, it's kinda the one thing she is good at. I was looking forward to just sleeping and watching movies all day when I heard a knock on my door. Standing there, was a woman I didn't recognize. Mid-40s, with sharp eyes, and makeup all over her face.
"Dr. Harvey?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Lisa Carter, my husband came to see you," she said curtly.
The name clicked instantly. John "22 Times" Carter.

"Uh, come on in," I said, stepping aside.

She walked in and sat on the edge of the couch, her back straight, legs folded over each other.  Daphne glanced at her from the kitchen, mouthing, Who’s this? I shrugged.

"I understand, my husband came to see you. what about," Lisa began
"I... yes, he's a client of mine," I said cautiously.

She crossed her arms. "I need you to tell me everything he said."
"What...I'm sorry but anything your husband shares with me in therapy is strictly confidential."

Lisa leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. "Please, " she said. "Something is wrong with my husband and I deserve to know."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Carter but..." "Ahh, why won't you tell me what's going on!" She spoke pacing around the room.  "He keeps talking in his sleep... something about they deserved it. Today I caught him following me to work." 

I feel for her, it must be terrible what she's going through. Her husband lost his job and now this. Daphne chose that moment to wander into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. “Hey, want some? Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?”

Lisa glanced at her, then back at me. "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I should go," she said heading for the door. "I'm truly sorry Dr. Harvey."

"Is she one of your clients?" Daphne asked with a worried look on her face. "No, but her husband is."
"Can you help her?" she asked.
"NO. I can't help her with this."
" I know I joke about this but, your work is freaking hard."
"I know," I muttered, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

Dear Diary,
It’s Monday, April 15. Tomorrow’s the big day—my 10-year high school reunion. I wasn’t planning on going initially, but after the chaos in my life recently, I need a change of scenery. Nostalgia, free appetizers, and the chance to see if anyone’s bald now? Count me in. And don't worry I asked for permission from the big boss. Don't wanna be chewed like when I went to my grandmother's funeral.

Tuesday rolled around. Daphne, naturally, had opinions.

“Wear something nice,” she said, sipping her coffee while scrolling through her phone. “You don’t want to look sad.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
"It's not you...just the clothes you wear. Elbow patch? Come on. Even I can't defend you for that."

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” I muttered rifling through my closet.

“I’m just saying, as a woman, I’d be inclined to jump your bones if you—”
“Okay, stopping you right there,” I said, grabbing a shirt at random.

By 7:00 PM, I was standing outside the gymnasium of Mill Creek High, now adorned with cheap balloons and a banner reading “Class of 2014 Reunion!” in Comic Sans. Off to a great start.
Inside, the vibe was exactly what you’d expect: cliques reforming, people pretending to care about each other’s lives, and a DJ who looked like he regretted every life choice that brought him here.

“Max!”

I turned to see a familiar face—Steve, the former quarterback. Time hadn’t been kind to him. His hairline was receding faster than my will to stay.

“Steve, hey!”
“Man, I didn’t think you’d show. You’re a therapist now, right?”
“Yep. And you?”
“I sell RVs. Big money in RVs these days.”
“Cool,” I said, trying to sound impressed.

Before I could escape, he clapped me on the back. “We’re gonna play a little football later. You in?”

“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.”
“Don’t be a wimp, Harvey!”

I grabbed a drink and tried to blend into the wallpaper. That’s when I saw her—Eve Spencer, the queen bee of our class. Somehow, she hadn’t aged a day. She spotted me, her eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Max Harvey?”

“Eve, hey,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“I thought you moved to, like, Canada or something,” she said, flipping her hair.
Before I could respond, Steve’s voice boomed from the other side of the gym. “Alright, everyone! Football time!”

We migrated to the field, where I made the mistake of agreeing to play. Teams were quickly formed, with Steve, of course, acting as captain for one side. I somehow ended up on the opposing team, which included me, some guys I didn't know existed, and Travis Barker. I was designated the offensive linesman, my job was to block people, I think. I don't know much about this sport.

“Max, you’ve got to try harder, man!” Travis barked at me from across the field.

Travis “All-American” Barker was the star of our high school football team back in the day. Injuries had sidelined him in college, but he still carried himself like he was one touchdown away from being drafted.

“Block that dude!” he yelled, pointing at a literal mountain of a man

Do you know what happens when a 140-pound man tries to block a 400-pounder? They get flattened like a pancake. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I saw stars when I was down there.

“You alright, Max?” someone asked, leaning over me.
“Define ‘alright,’” I groaned.

Back in the gym, I ran into Heather, my high school ex.

"Did you ever get married?" I asked.
“Yeah, actually. This is Sam, my wife.”
I blinked. “Oh. Cool.”

“You were the last guy I ever dated,” she said with a smile. “You helped me figure out who I was.”
“I’m... glad I could help?”

Okay, it's time to go now. I have been hurt both physically and mentally. I was on my way to the door when Eve cornered me.

“Hey, Max,” she said, tugging my arm. “Come with me for a sec.”

“Uh, sure?” I followed her into one of the old classrooms, the smell of stale markers and teenage angst hitting me immediately.

She closed the door and turned to me, her expression soft. “I just wanted to say... thank you.”

“For what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“For everything,” she said, sitting on the edge of a desk. “You know, you saved my life.”

“Really? I mean, we hardly talked in high school.”

Eve smiled. “I always sat behind you during tests. I copied all your answers. You never noticed, but you kept me from failing out of chemistry.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling oddly flattered. “Well... you’re welcome, I guess?”

She leaned closer, her fingers brushing my hair. “And I never realized how... cute you were.”

Before I could respond, she leaned in, her hands trailing to my arm. Then, in one swift motion, she took off her bra.

Let me pause here to say: that I’m not entirely oblivious. I’d like to think I can read a room—but...

“Eve, uh... I don’t think this is... appropriate,” Shut up Max, a voice not from my mouth spoke to me.

“Yes, it is,” she purred, stepping closer. She reached for my zipper and well at that point it would just be rude to refuse.

Back at the reunion, I grabbed a drink and watched the DJ pack up his equipment. Steve was still going on about RVs, Heather was laughing with Sam, and Eve was bragging about her talk show.

What did I learn tonight? 
Patience.

The high school popular crowd might’ve ignored me back then, but ten years later? I'M THE CAPTAIN NOW!

Signing off.