My cell phone sounded. A text message invited me to lunch with my old classmate Wendy, who was once more coming to town from the USA, where she had moved and married an American. I had not seen Wendy since we graduated, I think, and I was eager to see her. “I will be there,” I texted back immediately.
We had a function room to ourselves. What a pleasure it was to see my old high school classmates again! There they were: Sheila Ascalon, who never married though she still looks lovely, Eileen Trinidad Mapa, who was widowed about two years ago, and then Wendy Bough. Are you really Wendy? I hardly recognized her. Back then she was so skinny, her hair was black and long, always properly combed. She would not sit down without using a ruler to keep the box pleats on the green Maryknoll Grade School skirt in place.
“I was really OC then,” she says, giggling at my recollection.
Now she is heavier, her hair is cropped and colored. She is very casual and relaxed. She and Eileen are extremely close friends. In high school her father was my dentist. Now she is American. Her married name escapes me.
These three were my Maryknoll classmates since Grade 3, when my mother moved me from her alma mater St. Theresa’s. “Maryknoll is a more liberal school,” Mommy said. “You will be happier there.” Then came Amy Coloma Ilagan, Ligaya Mable, whose married name I don’t remember either, followed by Corazon Carreon Cuadrante, then Baby Pangilinan-Chan, a standout dermatologist in Alabang, and Marita Gomez, whose married name I also don’t remember. She sat beside me often in class because she was a Gomez and I’m a Gonzalez, then me. And later on, Chingbee Kalaw Cuenca joined us. She was late for lunch so we told her to buy us all dessert.
We are all old and older friends. Some of us were classmates from grade school, the others from high school — and that was 47 years ago — so long ago.
“Do you remember when we were in third or fourth grade going swimming in a little yellow and green inflatable plastic pool at Sonia Misa’s house on 7th Street off Harrison?” I asked Eileen and Wendy. “Melinda Quintos de Jesus was even with us. We were all still classmates then, before they divided the class and promoted half to Grade 7. We were wearing our little bathing suits. For some unknown reason, I remember that.” Neither one of them remembered. “Do you have pictures of it?” Eileen asked.
“That, I don’t remember,” I said and we burst out laughing. There is something about your friends from childhood that’s a deeper connection than your friends in high school. You can just look at each other and smile and everything goes clicking inside, the times together, the deep laughter, the memories of days without and later with makeup, just the ordinary stuff of life that at our age has acquired so much value, has helped us form a deep, true connection.
When Chingbee arrived, she sat beside me, inquired about my mother’s health. Bee and I are special friends. There was a time when we hit Grade 7 that we became quite close. Or maybe that was freshman high school. At that lunch it felt like two drying leaves floating in a pool of water, first close to each other, then for unknown reasons far apart, and now in our declining years, floating together again.
The other similar soul to mine is Marita Gomez. When we were in school she was a sweet, shy, gentle creature. Now she has a fabulous haircut and coloring and she looks so funky. We sit next to each other fondly, no need to talk too much, just sit together, sharing and exchanging food, saying, “ I really like that.” That’s the gift of high school reunions. The friendship runs really deep. People who want to age funky continue to sit together.
Chingbee bought us dessert at another place. Someone began a plan to set up a retirement community beside a university. “That’s terrific. Then we can molest the young boys,” I said, laughing. “You are really like that,” someone said. Oh, never mind, I am old. It’s just one of those fun things to say.
Finally, we said goodbye, let’s get together again. We set a date. First week of December. We kissed each other on both cheeks. Wait for my text, Amy said. Yes, we, the ladies who lunch, all nodded agreeably. We will definitely be there.
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