Quest to the Southwest - Chapt 4 - Yearbook

Ting, ting, ting. The blond woman in the white linen jacket tapped on her water glass with her fork. The twittering voices of the twenty six women in the room slowly diminished, heads turning toward the sound as they gave her their attention.

"This might take a long time, but let's go around the table and find out a little about everyone. You know, what you're doing now, how many kids you have, how many times you've been married." She craned her head out over the table so she could address the women seated on her side, as well as opposite her. "Not your life story or your memoirs, just a summary."

Martha listened as each of the women took a turn describing adventures, careers and marriages. They were from all over the country, having traveled to come tonight. Her right leg began to vibrate a little and her shoulders tightened as tension filled them. What should she talk about? What parts of her life would be interesting to others? What should she say to show herself in a light that she wanted? After the manic lunch time monologue, everyone knew everything about her already.

When she had arrived at the restaurant she had shared her yearbook with Barbara, an alum who was great at remembering names and events. As the women crowded around, laughing at various pictures in the yearbook, Martha had felt a sense of remorse. Not only had she not had friends on campus, she had missed out on all the fun. When asked about "what house" she was in, what clubs she had joined, Martha had replied "Oh, I worked forty hours a week when I went here. I didn't live on campus. I worked midnight until eight in the morning, drove to class, then went home to study or sleep." Looking at the pictures and hearing the memories filled Martha with a great sense of longing. Why had she been so "grown up" at age nineteen? She had started her life of "must" and "should" young.

The alum with the red shining ponytail went on. "Then I went back to school and got another degree in nursing, because I wanted to be a midwife and not a physicist." The stories were amazing. So accomplished. "I spend my extra time chairing a mentoring group for homeless children." "I started an organization that travels to Africa and give vaccinations to people living in isolated villages." "Remember when we all went to that party at Berkeley?"

The salads were served. Martha looked down the table, three more stories until her turn. Should she eat quickly or wait? The salad looked great, so Martha chomped the walnuts and blue cheese quickly. She ran her tongue over her teeth to remove any stray bits. The stories were getting longer and there was one more to go, the sweet woman sitting next to her. But Annie told her story quickly and suddenly it was Martha's turn.

"I was kind of a flake in college. If it wasn't for Dr. Kidd, I wouldn't have even gone to graduate school, but she steered me in that direction." Martha rambled on a bit. As she verbally flitted from fact to fact about her college days a sudden wave of heat swept up through the soles of her feet and took over her body, as if the floor had suddenly become a furnace. Her hands started shaking. Why had she been so serious? Why did she still live her life with thousands of "shoulds?" Always planning so hard for the next minute that she couldn't enjoy the moment she was in. If not planning, then she was caught up reviewing. Why did she say that, do that, not do that? Going over every moment of her day each night as she lay sleepless in bed. Even now, thinking about what time she should leave so that she would arrive home at a specific time, because she needed to get up a certain time. Why was her life this chain of events, so closely linked that if one thing was off a little she felt as if a major disaster had taken place. "Then I quit my job." The words came out in a whisper. Martha felt her voice sticking in her throat, it closed tight as if she had been stung by an insect, air flow constricted. "I was tired of being liberated, tired of being a Mills woman, tired of thinking I had to do it all." Martha struggled to draw in more air. "I am tired of it." A sob broke loose and Martha was appalled to feel tears coursing down her cheeks. She covered her face with her hands, unable to go on. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." she sobbed into her hands. "I should have had fun then, back when you were all having fun."

Annie reached over and placed a hand on Martha's back. She slid her palm over to Martha's shoulder and turned Martha's body to her, reaching up her other arm and enclosing Martha in a hug.

"It's okay." she murmured in Martha's ear. Martha continued to sob. The rest of the women piped up.

"It's good to realize it now, to make changes."

"It seems you are doing something about it, that's great."

"It's never to late to make up for lost time."

A nudge on her shoulder brought Martha out of her cloud of thoughts.

"You're turn" Annie had finished and Martha was up.

Martha's shoulder was bare and lonely as she felt the imagined conversation, the imagined comfort and support slip away as she recited the standard facts of her life.

Comments: Have you ever thought about how you would like something to go, only to back out at the last minute? What are your personal habits of organization? I would love to have your comments (stimulation for new writing ideas!)