The Girl in the Mirror

The dark gray sky belched rain onto the floor-to-ceiling glass of Joe Harper's high-rise office. The noise was loud enough to be distracting, but Joe had long ago mastered the art of tuning out everything else in the world when he was working on a new project. This could be the one that put his name on a nice, oak-paneled office in the executive leadership wing, and he was determined to make sure this acquisition went off without a hitch.

His phone began to flash and ring on his desk. Joe glanced at it; irritation etched on his features.

"I told you no calls, Janet..." he grumbled under his breath as he picked up the phone.

"Mr. Harper. I have an urgent call for you," came the clipped, professional sounding voice of his secretary.

"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but the gentleman was quite insistent and said you would be upset if this call didn't go through."

"Who is calling, Janet?"

"He said his name was Billy Walker?"

Joe sat up straighter in his chair.

"Billy..." he breathed quietly.

Billy Walker, it was a name he hadn't heard in over twenty years, one that brought back a flood of memories.

"I'll take the call."

His secretary dropped off the line, and there was a momentary delay before the new call was connected.

"Hello? Joe?"

"Billy?"

"Crazy Joe Harper! It's been a long time."

Joe winced at his old nickname, but hearing it again made a picture pop into his head. He could see them all as clear as day. Billy Walker, Frank Palmer, Tess Julewski, Bonnie North, and himself standing in a circle outside the locker pod, planning their next big escapade, laughing at the chaos their last one had caused. They had been the practical jokers of Harmon High School, and he had been the ring leader.

"It has been a long time," agreed Joe, "It's good to hear your voice again. Jesus, Billy, what's it been?"

"Twenty years, give or take. I guess none of us were very good at keeping in touch."

"Yeah...How have you been?"

"Keeping busy. I just opened a restaurant here in San Francisco last year that's doing pretty well. It offers kind of a fusion of Jamaican and South American foods."

"Sounds spicy."

"It can be, " chuckled Billy.

"You were a tough man to track down. Fortunately, my dad still talks to yours, and he clued me in on where to find you. So, big time investment guy now, huh? Leveraged buyouts, corporate take-overs? I would never have figured you for the suit and tie type."

"Figured I was going to join a rock band and spend my hours playing seedy clubs, right?"

"It would have fit your M.O. better than corner offices and power lunches. Who would have thought Crazy Joe Harper would ever grow up?"

"It happens to the best of us."

"Still, it's hard to reconcile it with the guy who hot-wired the vice-principals car and parked it in the middle of the football field before homecoming, or the guy who bought a weather balloon, filled it with cheap perfume and blew it up in the coaches office so that it blocked the door."

"I had forgotten about all that. Man, when they popped that thing, it made the whole place smell like a French whore house for weeks."

"You never did tell me how you even got in his office?"

"Lifted the keys from the head janitor. I used my dad's air pump to inflate it. Damn thing nearly filled that shitty little office."

"So, I'm guessing you don't drop M80's in the toilets these days."

"No. I'm a nice, respectable businessman now."

"We missed you at the twenty-year reunion. Heck, we missed you at the ten-year."

"I meant to go. I think I even sent an R.S.V.P. for the twenty, but things got busy here..."

"Tess would never have believed you missed either one for business meetings. She figured you were passed out at an Iron Maiden concert or on the run from drug dealers."

Joe had a fleeting image of Tess Julewski appear in his mind's eye. A saucy red-head, with sweet legs who was fond of leather boots and short skirts. Tess had something of a reputation as an easy girl that was not undeserved.

"You still talk to Tess?"

"On occasion. Get this, she married an architect and has three kids. Can you believe it?"

"That's hard to imagine. Tess was such a party girl I could never picture her settled down with anyone."

"As you say, 'It happens to the best of us.'"

"What about Frank? You still hear anything from him?"

"Frank got forced into the Navy by his parents after he flunked out of like three colleges. It worked out o.k. for him. He learned all kinds of technical stuff in the service and turned it into a job as a Cyber-Security consultant. He works in Dallas and is married himself. I don't think he ever had kids, though."

"Wow! I can't even picture Frank doing anything complicated like computers. This was a guy that wore slip-on tennis shoes when we were freshmen because he still hadn't mastered how to tie his shoelaces."

"Don't I know it. I was the one who tied his shoes for him all through middle school."

"I suppose that just leaves, Bonnie," said Joe, not able to hide a tremor in his voice as he said that name.

Bonnie North had been his on and off girlfriend through all four years of high school. He had lost track of how many times they had broken up and gotten back together again by graduation. A petite blond with a little rocket body and blue eyes the color of an August sky, she had been the one thing he truly missed when he had fled his home town. They had tried to get serious for a while after high school, but Joe wasn't ready to settle down, and Bonnie was growing tired of his immature attitude. She had kicked him to the curb, throwing him out of the crappy little one-bedroom apartment they were sharing at the time. He had hit the road and not looked back but never stopped thinking about her. Eventually, Joe came to realize the party couldn't last forever, and he had gone back to college and applied himself. It took a few tries, but he had gotten his degree and started his slow crawl up the corporate ladder, shedding his shoulder-length dark-brown hair and most of his sense of humor along the way.

Through the years, Joe had been in and out of several relationships, almost marrying once back when he was in his early thirties. Somehow with every girl he met, he ended up comparing how he felt with them to how he had felt with Bonnie, and it always came up short. He had picked up the phone a few times, thought about tracking her down, but held back for fear of what he would find on the other end of that call.

What if she didn't feel that way about him anymore?

What if she never had?

"Yeah...Bonnie...That was actually why I was trying to find you."

Joe had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he gripped the phone tighter.

"Really? This call has to do with her?"

"Yeah, Joe. Look, I'm just going to come out and say it. There was an accident. Bonnie was on a white water rafting trip in Colorado, and her boat overturned. She...She drowned, Joe."

Silence followed this pronouncement. Joe stared at the far wall of his office, but he didn't see the award plaques or photos of him with various clients that adorned the plain surface. He looked much further away, across a vast gap of years seeing a girl with curly blond hair and a radiant smile, one who had tolerated his impish sense of humor with an eye roll and a shake of her gorgeous head. The same girl who had taken his virginity in a parked car a month after his eighteenth birthday. The girl who had come to every practice his mediocre Metal band had ever had. The one who had made him sober up and go to school on the mornings where all he wanted to do was lay in bed. The girl who had deserved his love, his loyalty, and yet the same girl he had hurt multiple times. You could chalk it up to immaturity, but at the end of the day Joe Harper knew one thing with perfect clarity, Bonnie should have been the one, and he had no one but himself to blame that he had fucked it up.

"She's gone..." he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Joe. It's a damn shame. Bonnie was one of the good ones."

"How did you find out?"

"Her daughter called me."

Joe's brow furrowed, the shocks of this conversation coming too fast to keep up with, and he struggled to slow his racing thoughts.

"Bonnie had a daughter?"

"She got pregnant a couple of years after you split town. It was a one-night stand, apparently with unexpected consequences. Her daughter is all grown up now, twenty-two, and a chip off the block from what I hear. I've never met her personally. Marta is her name, Marta North."

This was almost too much. Bonnie had a daughter?

"So anyway, Joe. The reason for this call was to invite you to the funeral. Marta said her mom had left specific instructions that in the event of her death, certain people should get an invite, and every one of the old gang was on there, including you."

"Me? I...I'm a little surprised. Bonnie and I didn't part under the best of circumstances, and we haven't spoken in all this time."

"Bonnie was never one to hold a grudge. She very specifically asked for all of us, but most of all you."

"Huh?"

"Marta said your name was at the top of the list."

"Wow. I don't know what to say to that."

"Will you come? The funeral is this weekend, and everyone will be there. I know the circumstances suck, but it's a chance to see the old gang together again. What do you say?"

"I'll have to rearrange some things, but...yeah...I'll be there, Billy. Thanks for letting me know."

"O.K. I guess I will see you this weekend. It was good to hear your voice, Joe. It's been too long."

He put the phone back in the cradle, then picked it right back up, pressing the button for his secretary.

"Janet? I need you to book me a flight to Phoenix for tomorrow. This is a personal expense, so bill it to my credit card. Thanks."

The elevator deposited him on the ninth floor, five above his own. Joe could have done this with a phone call, but given his current circumstance, he figured he should deliver the news in person. A man in line for a promotion didn't rock the boat.

"Clarisse. Is the boss in?" he asked the aging secretary who guarded the heavy, oak door.

"Yes, Mr. Harper. I'll let him know you want to see him."

Joe waited patiently, loitering by the giant fish tank that stood against one wall. The strange collection of exotic creatures was his boss's passion. Joe knew that he had an even more impressive menagerie at his home in a tank twice the size of this one.

"He's ready for you, Mr. Harper."

The door opened to reveal an office twice the size of Joe's, complete with mini-bar on one side of the room and a long leather couch on the other. Rumor had it that the cushions of that couch had seen more than their fair share of action over the years, but Joe didn't let himself speculate on the sexual habits of Tim Rothchild.

"Come in, Joe! It's good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't been down since I got back from Paris, but things are always crazy this time of year. Am I right?"

Tim Rothchild was an imposing man, though not in stature. He was barely five-foot-eight-inches in height coming in well below Joe's taller six-foot frame, but his eyes, cold and calculating, made him seem much more significant.

"I should be apologizing for just barging in on you," said Joe deferentially.

"Not at all. What can I do for you?"

"I have to leave town for a few days on a personal matter, and I just wanted to give you a heads up."

Tim eyed him for several long seconds, making him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

"A personal matter...You haven't taken a vacation in five years, let alone a personal day. I suppose I would be quite the ogre to stop you."

"Thanks, I..."

"Then again," cut in Tim, "you are in the middle of the Hopkin's/Lerner deal. This would be a critical time to leave."

"I understand, but it would only be for a few days. A...A friend of mine passed away, and I want to attend the funeral."

"Trying to play on my sympathies, Joe? You know I don't have any," chuckled Tim. It was difficult to tell if he was joking or not.

"Sure...but trust me, pulling on your heartstrings is the last thing I would try to do. Assuming I could find your heart."

Tim gave him a stern look, but then burst out laughing, "You couldn't. I keep it locked in the same vault with my conscience."

"Still, I do need the time away. I promise this won't compromise the deal."

Tim rose from his desk, coming around to put his arm on Joe's shoulder.

"I want you to keep your eye on the ball here, Joe. You're so close to the brass ring. We wouldn't want you to fuck it up now."

"I won't. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not worried, Joe. You blow this, and I can find three more kiss asses just like you waiting in the wings."

There was another awkward pause, and then once again, Tim was laughing, but in such an odd way that Joe was still not sure if he was joking or not.

"Right...I'll call you when I get back."

"Sure, sure. My condolences on the passing of your friend."

His boss almost managed to sound human when he said it.

The rain was coming down even harder as Joe pulled into the parking garage of his building. The high rise where he lived catered to the young urban professional types, and he didn't see so much as a kid or anything resembling a family on his way up.

He had been on so many trips packing was second nature, and he could have done it blind-folded. While digging in the back of his closet, his foot banged up against a long, heavy box on the floor. It had lain there for years, and it had been at least two since the last time Joe had examined the contents inside.

He paused, lifting the lid to reveal the shiny wood of his old Stratocaster.

The guitar felt strange in his hands. It had been so long since he had played it last that he wondered if he would even remember how, but muscle memory was a powerful thing. The chords came back to him like distant memories rising from the depths of his conscious, and he plucked the beginnings of an old love song he had written as a teenager. A song he had written for Bonnie.

Suddenly, he was back on a park bench, the sun beating down on his shoulders. Bonnie was next to him, listening, her head cocked to one side.

"That's all I've got so far..." he admitted.

"It's beautiful. What are you going to call it?"

"I was...uh...Thinking about calling it,'Bonnie's Song.'"

She could have laughed, it would have mortified him if she had, but he half expected her too.

"That would be so sweet of you. Will you play it someday when you're big and famous then afterward have to tell the story to some journalist about the girl who inspired this amazing piece of music?"

"That's the idea. Assuming I ever get big and famous."

"You will," she said, reaching over to touch his hand.

"I think you have more confidence in me than I have in myself."

"You're going to be someone someday, Joe. I can see that plain as day."

"Plain as day..." mumbled Joe back in his closet, the memory fading fast.

He hadn't become the musical legend he had imagined he would be, and what was left of that legacy now sat on his floor: a worn-out old guitar, some old CD's, and a notebook filled with unfinished songs.

There was one other thing, too, and he lifted the small photo album out blowing the dust off it. They were mostly pictures that Bonnie had taken of him at various gigs over the years. He hardly recognized the long-haired youth in the photos. In one, he was standing in front of some nameless bar, ripped jeans and Queen concert shirt adorning his slender body, cowboy hat on his head, and a diamond stud in one ear.

"Yeah. I was a real talent..." he said, shaking his head and tossing the album back in the box.

The apartment where he lived was spartan in its decoration, nothing like the poster covered walls of his room as a kid. The most interesting thing in it was his old guitar, and he kept that tucked away. He sat on the couch, sipping on an imported beer, absently flipping T.V. channels on a big screen that practically owned one wall.

"Five hundred fucking channels and never shit on," he said in disgust, tossing the remote aside.

A girl he had brought back here once had told him it looked like no one lived here like it was a display model or something. Joe could see what she meant now as his eyes wandered around the apartment.

This place, like his life, seemed drained of color.

"Fuck! I'm getting maudlin in my old age," he groaned, getting up to toss the beer bottle in the recycling and head to his bedroom for some sleep. A quick shower helped relax him for bed. He stood in front of the mirror, toweling himself off, proud that at forty-two, he was still in good shape, slender, well-muscled with just a hint of gray around the temples.

The alarm clocks dull orange glow was the only light in the room after he switched off the ones in the ceiling. Settling into bed, Joe closed his eyes and hoped to fall asleep quickly.

He had a long way to go.

HOMEWARD -

The flight into Phoenix was just as bumpy as he remembered thanks to updrafts coming off the mountains that surrounded the valley below. Joe clung to his seat arms and kept his eyes closed the whole way down. In his youth, he had loved to fly, but there was something about passing forty that made a man more aware of his mortality. He was damn grateful when the wheels of his aircraft hit the tarmac, and he could finally relax.

The airport, Sky Harbor, as it was known locally, had changed radically from what he remembered. The place looked more like a high-end shopping mall now than an airport with rows of storefronts on either side of the concourse. He arrived at the baggage claim area and grabbed his suitcase off the twisting conveyor.

Billy had offered to pick him up, figuring they could share the cost of the rental car, so he made his way outside to stand by the curb. The minute the glass doors slid back, Joe was slammed by a blast of dry heat that made it feel like he had just dove headfirst into an oven.

"Damn! Now I remember why I left. Why didn't they just build this city in the mouth of a volcano?"

Joe fished his cellphone out of his pocket, planning to call Billy when a blue sedan pulled up right in front of him.

"I knew I would recognize you, Joe, you've hardly changed except for the hair," said Billy Walker as he exited the driver's side.

Joe couldn't say the same thing. The Billy Walker he had known in high school had been a tall, slender youth with a thick mane of blond hair. This Billy was something altogether different, and it was apparent that he had taken advantage of the perks of running a restaurant.

"It's good to see you, Billy," he replied, putting his arms as far around Billy's rotund body as he could.

"Wow! Joe Harper! I can hardly believe I'm looking at you."

"You too."

"Let's get out of this heat. I got the air conditioner set on full in the car," suggested Billy.

Joe slung his suitcase and carry-on into the back seat before jumping in on the passenger's side.

"Shit! Was it always this hot?"

"Probably. I think we were just too drunk to notice most of the time. I swear I saw a dog burst into flames on the sidewalk on the drive over."

Joe chuckled as they pulled away from the curb.

"I told Tess we would drop our bags at the hotel and meet up at her place," advised Billy.

"Is Frank going to be there as well?"

"Yep. He flew in last night."

"What about the funeral arrangements?"

"They have a visitation tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. with the funeral immediately following."

Joe nodded while looking out the window at the distant mountains. The red rock head of "Camelback" mountain brought back memories of hiking to the summit to look out on the city. He and Bonnie had been up there many times and once joked that they had joined the "half-mile club" by having sex near the top.