Do You Remember the First Time?

almost did.
    ‘Sorry, you look really familiar to me.’
    Of course, he’d said that before. He’d guess in a minute.
    ‘Maybe you were having a dream,’ I said.
    ‘Huh.’ He shook down his new blue suit. ‘It was a nice dream.’ He coloured slightly.
    ‘How nice?’ I asked.
    ‘Um, er. Hi there.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Justin Clelland.’
    I nearly laughed. To keep from crying.
    ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m Flora Scurrison.’ I paused. ‘I’m a friend of your brother’s.’
    His brow furrowed. ‘That sounds familiar. Didn’t you used to live near us?’
    ‘Something like that,’ I said.
    ‘Well, nice to meet you.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, swallowing hard. Then, there was a gentle touch on my shoulder, as the fountain tippled away endlessly, round and round for ever, in front of me.
    ‘You know,’ said the low voice behind me, rather similar to the one in front of me. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’
    I looked up at him, his wonderfully familiar face looking into mine, and felt a huge rush of relief.
    ‘Justin, scrammify,’ said Clelland over my shoulder.
    ‘Yawn yawn yawn,’ said Justin, and wandered off, muttering about not wanting to spend time with a couple of oldies anyway. I watched him go.
    ‘God, he seems such a baby!’ I said. Then, just at the last minute, he whipped round and stared at me. His face was a picture: quizzical and delighted. He stared at me. Then he raised an eyebrow. I winked at him. He stared for one more second then walked on, shaking his head in confusion. He knew.
    ‘So were you.’
    ‘Oh, yeah.’ I felt myself blushing, and smiling.
    He put his hand up to my face, then retracted it, as if it would be too intimate.
    ‘It’s OK,’ I said.
    ‘It’s just … it’s so incredibly weird. Really, I haven’t seen you for sixteen years. Are you taller ?’
    ‘I can’t believe you never ever contacted me. Not once, after all that time.’
    He shook his head. ‘Me neither. Life …’
    ‘And … Jeez, things have changed.’
    We started to walk away from the fountain, away from the formal garden.
    ‘Have you spoken to the bride and groom?’ I asked.
    ‘They are the happiest people in the history of the world. I think we’re agreeing to keep the whole thing quiet.’
    ‘I think that’s a good idea. Where’s Max?’
    ‘Oh, he’s at home. Tashy phoned him, just to check. Says some really young girl picked up the phone, so she reckons he’s getting over it.’
    ‘And it goes on,’ I said.
    ‘What about you?’ he said. ‘Have you changed?’
    ‘Apart from the crow’s-feet and the rather nifty trouser suit?’
    ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘No, I mean, in yourself. Everyone else has.’
    ‘Have you?’
    ‘Oh, yeah. No, not really. But I was practically perfect to begin with.’
    ‘Hmm. But I don’t know.’
    ‘Check your wallet.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I don’t know, but Tashy’s had a picture of Olly where Max’s used to be.’
    ‘Yeah, but I bet she’s had that for ages.’
    Nonetheless, I pulled it out of my small bag – with, bliss of blisses, my house keys and my credit card. Oh, I could never have dreamed of being so happy to see plastic and metal.
    ‘What’s this?’ I said suddenly, loudly, drawing a card out of my wallet. I held it up to the light. ‘Fuck! Clell, it says I’m a nut!’
    On the card, it did, in big black letters. N.U.T.
    Oh God. Was this a mental hospital? Had I dreamed the whole thing? Was I having psychotic episodes? Was Clelland my doctor? I mean, what had happened … it was impossible. Maybe I was in maximum security. Maybe …
    ‘Calm down,’ said Clelland, examining it, and seeing what was going through my head. ‘You’re not a nut.’
    ‘Are you sure? Maybe I’m babbling right now.’
    ‘You are. And just wait till you see this.’ He handed it over. ‘Look at it carefully.’
    I did. Clelland was eyeing me closely, waiting for my reaction. It started the birds from the trees.
    ‘National Union of TEACHERS!!!!’
    He started laughing.
    ‘I’m a TEACHER!!!!??????’
    ‘Beats accountancy, for sure.’
    ‘I’m a TEACHER!!!!????’
    ‘Oh, come on, think of the holidays.’
    He felt for my hand and took it as we strolled in amongst the trees.
    ‘I’d better be a fucking art teacher.’
    He giggled. ‘You’d better stop flirting with your charges.’
    ‘Fuck!!’
    My phone rang. The ringtone was ‘Colourblind’.
    ‘I think you’ve got one of your student’s phones.’
    ‘I think