Quest to the Southwest - Chapter Three - Business Cards

"Hi, I'm Allison. I don't really remember you?" The voice was accompanied by a hand holding out a business card. The card had black and gold ink, printed on paper so heavy and textured it felt like real marble when Martha took it in her hand.

"I'm Martha Grimes, well Martha Rodriquez in college. What was your major?" Martha looked at the slim blond woman, smooth skin around her eyes, lips with just a touch of pink lipstick. Her sisters and mother would know right away if the woman had "work done", but Martha was somewhat oblivious to those things. She just thought this woman was very beautiful. Could they actually be the same age?

"Biology. What was yours?

"Psychology." Martha reflected back on her college days. The good old '70s, when freedom and rules were still basking in the influence of the sixties. There had been no general requirements when she was a student at Mills. You just took whatever or whichever classes you desired. Luckily someone had pointed out to her that if you planned on applying to graduate school there were actually prerequisites. The result was she took nearly one hundred percent psych classes during the two years she had attended. She hadn't decided on a major until the beginning of her junior year.

"I think we had one class together, Dr. Bower's class. Didn't you used to bring a dog with you to class?"

"Yes, I did. More than one dog, in fact."

"She slept under your chair, all wrapped in a pink baby blanket."

"Oh, that would have been Cona. She was just a tiny thing, four weeks old when I used to bring her. I couldn't leave her alone at home." Martha went on. "Then I had another dog, Cathy, she was a puppy too. She even has her picture in the year book. "

"Uh, nice to see you again." Allison's eyes darted away from Martha's face. "Hi, Sherry. Long time no see." She quickly walked away from Martha's dog stories.

Martha sipped on her wine. It was probably a mistake drinking this. Tomorrow would be a migraine for sure, but these crazy reunions. She came every ten years, completely forgetting in between how melancholy she would be, wandering to the various events, watching women run up and hug, accompanied by screeches of recognition. Wendy. She had scoped out the list of attendees, but Wendy's name wasn't there. Would she recognize her if she saw her? Martha had created a great fantasy life for Wendy. Wendy had been a computer science major. Women who graduated in 1980 and jumped into the early program development had super cush jobs. Wendy had a job she went to every day which consisted of a spa, tennis court, swimming pool and more. This atmosphere was thought to promote the creativity needed by computer program developers, stimulating wonderful ideas for programs. That part of the fantasy was real. Wendy had done that after graduation, but then the two of them had lost touch. In Martha's fantasy Wendy had shares in the bottom floor of some big company, Microsoft or Apple, had retired young and was extremely wealthy. Martha had never gone so far as to imagine that someday, some how Wendy's wealth would be showered on her, the long lost friend from college. In reality Martha didn't recall that they were even super good friends. Hung out together a little, chatted in classes and Martha had got Wendy a job as research assistant at Berkeley, but the job hadn't worked out well. Wendy thought she was getting a fun job like Martha had, working for the psych department studying the effects of testosterone on pregnant beagles. Actually, Martha thought that was the job Wendy was getting too. But the reality of it was that Wendy spent her four hours a week cleaning kennels and dog runs. When they both asked for letters of recommendation at the end of the year, Martha's had been a glowing letter from the professor emeritus, while Wendy's was from the graduate student in charge, basically indicating she had always come to work on time. Maybe one reason Martha built up such a good fantasy life for Wendy was the guilt she felt about that whole fiasco.

Martha glanced at her watch, then pulled the brochure out of her purse. What was next on the agenda? How much longer did she have to stand here and feel like such a sore thumb? Her eyes skimmed across things she had circled in blue pen last week, when planning to attend. Why did I want to come? Don't I remember that each time I feel like an alien, as women talk about dorm escapades which I didn't participate in? She tapped the brochure, glanced at her watch and walked out quickly, the actress pretending she had somewhere important to be, right now, this minute.

This campus sure was stunning. The ancient eucalyptus trees still lined the creek, the new buildings blending in well with the old. Martha's good knee ached after the walk around campus. What was with that? How was she going to hike on her trip if just a little stroll on a paved path was all she could handle?

The second day of the reunion Martha wandered onto campus late, having slept in. Hmmm...an awards lunch. Was she supposed to buy a ticket in advance? Having just finished breakfast, Martha didn't feel the need to eat lunch right now, but she would like to attend the awards ceremony. She cut through the buildings on a cement path, to the meadow where the lunch was to be held. Tables set up on the green grass were inviting. "Who do I give my ticket to?" A gray haired alum wearing a bright purple T-shirt, topped with a purple scarf and carrying a purple purse waved a ticket about. "Oh, I can just take that for you," a tall women in blue randomly collected tickets. Martha felt this system was lax, so she walked to the tables and found the yellow sign announcing "Class of 1980". Two other women were seated at the table, so with a smile, Martha joined them. Maybe she needed a different approach today, one that would not make her feel like odd man out. "Hi, I don't remember you, what was your major?" The women answered, and Martha felt a manic mood coming on, the racing heartbeat, the jitters in her legs. Fifteen minutes later she realized that she was surrounded by a table of women, with polite smiles plastered on their faces as her voice raced on, jumping for on subject to the next, talking about me, me, me. These women may have been strangers fifteen minutes ago, but now they knew her life story. Martha picked up her water and took a sip. Time to stop talking, settle down. A silence fell over the table. Had she so overwhelmed the others that they were afraid to talk? Worried she would jump in and turn the topic back on to herself? Her accomplishments, her failures, her family? "And what about your mother?" The tall woman in the western shirt made an attempt to start up the conversation again. Although Martha was determined not to drift back into the manic - I am the center of the universe mode - she responded to the question. One sentence led to a thought which led to a monologue, and Martha mentally kicked herself again. Stop, just stop, shut up. Then a speaker stepped up to the microphone and the program started, so Martha was silent.

"What are you going to do next?" "Have you toured the new business building?" "Our class is not giving much money, only 22%." The conversations had resumed with the ending of the program, and Martha was able to join in with normal responses. Pausing for breath, smiling, actually listening to others. This felt so much better. Settled. As the women continued talking about a variety of things, the tall cowgirl pulled out her business cards. Women reached into their purses and quickly passed cards around the table. Martha reached in her bag and pulled out a stack of the cards she had prepared. No job now, but a much better card to pass around.

Martha Grimes, Explorer.