Chapter 26 Ellie
Ellie
“Ellie, you’re a genius.”
Sitting in the crowded coffee house with Tori, my notes are strewn across the table as we hash out some of the reunion details. Once we came to terms with the fact that reunions are inherently cheesy and there’s no avoiding it, we finally landed on a theme–A Walk Down Memory Lane.
Today we’re focused on how we can reminisce without having some lame slideshow accompanied by Time of Your Life by Green Day.
From what Sophia told me and the photos I’ve seen online, the venue has a stunning garden, almost bordering on a hedge maze.
The idea for the main attraction is to set up some sort of tactile walk down memory lane–with pictures, stories, and highlights, laid out chronologically from freshman through senior year.
Not my most inventive idea to date, but certainly not my worst.
“I can start pulling notable stories–things like big sports wins, the time the gym caught fire, the bizarre March blizzard. Do you think you could reach out to Sophia and see if she can get access to the old yearbook photos?”
“Absofreakinlutely I can,” Tori says, nearly bouncing in her seat with excitement. “I’m so glad we convinced you to come back, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“I’m sure you’d be fine,” I say with a polite smile.
“No, I’m sure we’d definitely end up with a lame slideshow and a Vitamin C song, but that’s sweet of you anyway. Can I keep this?”
“I was stuck on the Green Day song,” I chuckle. “And sure, I have copies on my laptop,” I say as she begins gathering the scattered designs, to-do lists, and notes.
“Seriously Ellie, thank you,” she says earnestly. “I’ll see you this weekend for the venue walk!”
Waving goodbye, she weaves through the crowd heading for the door, a polite stranger holding it open for her on the other side.
I let out a sigh, settling back into my seat, closing my eyes and taking a deep drink of my coffee.
Tori was more peppy than scary today and apparently the crushing weight of adulthood hasn’t tampered that side of her one bit.
The bell over the door chimes as it swings closed, and call it fate, intuition, demonic torment–but I feel a shift in the atmosphere that makes me nervous to open my eyes again. Bracing myself, I sit up straight again and cautiously look to see what’s caused it.
From where I’m seated in the corner, it’s hard to see me from the front door, but I have a clear view of everyone at the counter–including the couple that just walked in.
I recognize Madison first, her silky raven hair nearly to her waist, tall and graceful, olive skin somehow glowing brighter now than it did when we were teenagers. Like the dreaded slow-pan in a horror movie, my gaze slides to the man standing next to her, hand on the small of her back.
I want to scream, to throw up, to run, but I sit here paralyzed by my first glimpse of Griffin Hart in nearly five years. Like it’s second nature, my heart warms at the sight of him. He’s every bit the way I remember him.
The harsh reality that I’m a stranger to him now follows like a sucker punch.
His hair is longer now, nearly to his shoulders, but has the familiar swoop I was always so desperate to run my hands through.
His stature hasn’t changed much, but even if it had, I think I’d recognize him anywhere–tall, broad-shouldered, an aura of confidence radiating off of him even as he’s just standing there.
He leans down to whisper something in her ear and she lets out a warm, throaty laugh. Suddenly I’m leaning a lot more towards throwing up. He grins at her, and my chest tightens at the memories of all the times that smile was reserved for me.
My brain finally reconnects with my body and I jolt out of my seat, trying to leave as quickly as possible without drawing attention to myself.
In my haste to get the hell out of dodge, I bump into the woman entering the coffee shop, stammering out an apology.
In a stroke of horrific luck, my voice echoes in the entryway in the split second that there’s silence between the songs playing over the speakers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Griffin whip around at the sound of my voice, and although I don’t look back, I can feel his eyes on me as I finally clear the glass doors, the tinkling of that damn bell sure to haunt my dreams for the foreseeable future.