Yearbook inscriptions were benign and sentimental regardless of how much an acquaintance would rib a counterpart before or after, it was a seasonal ritual in which there were only BFFs, nothing has or will ever come between us, the bar being whether someone would take the pen or not. There was a poignant exception in which John didn’t approve of his ex-girlfriend’s message, prompting him to ask her to sign it again. She declined. This was the only occasion in which he was ever serious, or in which his best frenemy and comedy partner Peter had genuine sympathy for him. And no high school yearbook discussion would be complete without a callout for Peter and John, aka Pete and Re-Pete.
After about thirty minutes of sitting and navel gazing that strange and unusual paradox, I walked upstairs and began to rifle through my closet, needing to get “the law” out of my system. This anecdote pertained to a group of summer camp counsellors who rented my house for a weekend, left it trashed just in time for another group to arrive, and just in time to disappear on a what-three-numbers canoe trip. After a week of constant digging, I found the spokesperson and ringleader on the dark web, one of whom had the spoiled-child benefit of attending the world’s most expensive boarding school, in Switzerland. Just as well they pleaded hardship and stonewalled on reimbursing me for the damages for months, even after I threatened to get “the law” involved.
The payments, which were wired to me from the spokesman’s mother, did cover everything and leave a little extra, but I couldn’t understand why they kept trying to whittle down my estimate. I guess they felt they were victims, not being able to hold their alcohol, being lightweights, though they did leave a dimple on a butcher block table which the carpenter was unable to smooth out.
I resolved not to tell her this story because it would wind me up too much. I can just about picture dinner time at the spokesman’s dining table with him off at college, the mother and father fuming and 16-year old daughter Eliza puzzled that they would spend $3,500 clearing Keebler’s name and to keep out “the law,” but wouldn’t spend an extra $250 on skating lessons for her. As for the ringleader, I doubt he and his father have much of a personal relationship, given the amount of time Paino spends bickering with his private equity partners.
I began to hunt for company employee directories in mover’s boxes, in the event I could find and pin down MB’s birth name, or Darcy’s last name. I did, a directory, that is, but “MB” wasn’t listed either alphabetically or by department, so he had to have resigned and matriculated in med school by then. Darcy I now recall worked for a competitor and not for us. Judy and I met her on a skiing trip through Elizabeth Wilcox.
Elizabeth was a good egg, though somewhat between neurotic and insecure, therein the connection with Judy, and most of the ride back was consumed by pep talks from Darcy. Elizabeth got her job the old fashioned way, on the basis of a recommendation, from her father, and no one shied away from nepotism back then. She’s now a real estate broker in SoCal, for which she is better suited. High end real estate was a natural progression and most everyone I know prospered at this, with the notable exception of Raul, despite the money he spent honing the insincere smile. Nevertheless, this was not wasted and he puts the grin to good use as a volunteer providing financial literacy training to late-career and early retiree folk on the Florida Panhandle, thus compensating for his early-career participation in the Dirty War. He hasn’t ditched the “sarge” haircut, though.
While searching for the worker directories, I found three postcards from Scotty, which included the following narrations:
Houston will never be the same. I just blew out of there after spending 4 days interviewing with Vinson & Elkins, a large corporate law firm. They paid all expenses including a suite at the Hyatt Regency. I spent most of my time in the bar trying to get my bar bill up to a respectably lawyerlike height. I think I’ll be a success as a lawyer if that is the criteria.
I graduated from law school today and am flying home for the holidays. After Christmas I’ll be back in Berkeley for a few months and then I’m moving to New York. Get in touch sometime.
I’m in New Orleans on business. You should be here. This expense account living is the greatest. New Orleans is a wild town. I need you to keep me in line. Ha! How’s Maine?
He went by Scott in his postcards and letters to me, rather than Scotty, which surprises me on reflection. I should write to his then partner, I will write to him, the question is when. I’m not going to search for any more aged correspondence, and if I discover any, I’m not going to retype the words on these pages, even if they are noteworthy. I’m setting a cut-off.