“We can turn round and go home,” he said hopefully. He'd just parked their car in the small lot next to the school, a large menacing brown building that loomed over them.
But Alicia would not be swayed. Ever since she intercepted the gilded invitation, she believed attending the reunion would be a positive experience. Of course she had not been the one who attended the school. She didn't seem to comprehend that he had endured ordeals here, within the walls of the building that very much resembled a castle. And castles did have torture chambers, you know, only the ones within these walls had been disguised-- as broom closets and cloak rooms.
“Ted, it's not going to be bad. You're making it out to be a trip to the dentist,” Alicia said, reaching across from the passenger seat to place a reassuring hand on his arm.
“I'd rather go to a dentist,” he grumbled. “You think it's too late to make an appointment?”
“Go on, silly,” she said, and gave him a playful shove. “Let's go-- we're going to be late.”
“Heaven forbid we should be late,” he said wryly, undoing his seat belt, hoping in vain that the latch would be jammed.
Outside other cars had pulled up and parked, and couples dressed in evening gowns and suits were heading round toward the front entrance of the school. Ted paused to study the line of parked cars, wondering why anyone-- even those who had had less horrifying childhood memories-- would bother to be present. It just didn't make any sense, showing up to mingle with a bunch of people who were now virtual strangers and many of whom were married to out-and-out strangers. And everyone would talk about what?--the good old days. He didn't feel the least bit nostalgic; all he felt, really, was the need to escape-- the way he had so many years ago.
Alice took his arm and guided him toward the entrance. He didn't harbor any real resentment at her enthusiasm. Having not been there, she could never understand what life had been like for him. She was just being a good wife, always interested in learning more about him, about his quirks, like his inability to sleep without a nightlight.
They walked in through the wide set of double doors, over which the word AUDITORIUM was craved into the cement façade, its letters shadowed in years of grime.
In the lobby he became suddenly breathless. It was as though his lungs refused to move the air in and out. He paused, and Alicia, still gripping his arm, turned to look at him, confused and concerned.
“You all right?” she asked. “You look a little pale.”
“Yeah,” he said, blinking his eyes, fighting off the feeling of drowning. “I just felt a little wheezy.” He thought it was strange really, if not ironic, because as I child he had had asthma, which had eventually cleared up; the last time he remembered himself stricken with the condition had been in the school-- maybe on the very spot he now stood, he couldn't quite remember-- and one of the nuns, Sister Mary Something-or-other {the only nun who had known how to drive} had rushed him to the emergency room.
“You sure you're all right?” Alice asked. “If not, we can go.”
“No, it's fine,” he said. He was willing to continue, endure this one last ordeal, for her. She was a wonderful wife, after all, beautiful and intelligent, and he was sure that no one he'd see tonight would ever believe he could be so lucky as to have her. “It'll be all right,” he assured her, though he could help looking past her, to the side of the lobby where the marble stairs ran to the rooms upstairs. At the landing there was a wooden door, oddly narrow, that opened on the tightly spiraling stairs that led up the bell tower.
Alicia glanced behind her in wonder, and then turned to him with a questioning look.
“Let's just get this over with,” he said. He led her through the inner doors, which opened on the auditorium.
Even in his memory the auditorium seemed small, and now, after the passage of years, it seemed even smaller. The stage appeared comically inadequate, even for the shoddy grammar school productions that had been staged. The down-sloping floor still displayed the same dull gray and black pattern, and tables were set up here and there in a slapdash way. Some guests had already staked claim to the folding chairs at the tables, while others wandered around like recently deceased spirits who didn't quite grasp the fact that they were dead.
