I lead a fairly normal life. I'm twenty-eight years old and a blue-collar kind of man; I live in a small town a little ways upstate from New York City, and I teach high-school theatre here. It's by no means a glamorous job and I don't make the big bucks or work in a cushy corner office with some big-breasted, blond secretary to do my bidding. But it's also nowhere near a thankless job, though many other teachers in the school will tell you otherwise and it appears from the outside that they're right. It's my passion, it pays the bills, and it brings back fond memories, as I teach at my alma mater.

I married my high-school sweetheart, Caroline, and together we have a son, Anthony Junior, a strapping young lad of six, and a daughter, Maria, who just turned two and is, without contest, the prettiest little girl on the face of the planet. My kids are great and my wife is amazing. She teaches alongside me, head of the music department at the Joseph Pulitzer Academy for Artistically Gifted Youth – and no, I don't expect you to remember that, let alone say it in one breath. We don't exactly pull in a lot of money between us, but we make enough to live fairly comfortably, and we're happy, so there isn't too much to worry about.

My name is Tony Higgins, and my life is normal.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Tony?" Caroline comes in from the early-fall rain, closing the front door behind her.

"Yeah, babe," I call from the couch. I'd get up to meet her at the door like I usually do, but I'm currently pinned down by two small bodies (which are heavier than one would imagine) and, to be honest, thoroughly engrossed in a Thomas the Tank Engine video which they've both fallen asleep before even getting halfway through.

"You've got a piece of mail." I hear Caroline hang her coat up and listen to the familiar click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she comes from the front room back to the den, carrying a stack of letters and junk mail. She stands behind me, leaning down as I tilt my face up to her for a kiss, as has become customary in our ten years of marriage.

"Who's it from?"

Caroline examines the envelope one last time before handing it to me. "I'm not sure, exactly. There's no name on the return address, but it's out of New York City."

I look at the envelope and realize why Caroline sounded so weirded out when she brought in the mail. It's addressed to a Mr. Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins. I laugh a little out loud when I see it; no one has called me Racetrack since I graduated high school ten years ago.

"Good lord," I say, tearing open the envelope. "I wonder what it is." I pull out the contents – a card, looks like an invitation of some sort. It's all off-white and embossed in silver, so I assume it's probably for a wedding or something. I open it and am blown away.

Daniel Weinberg

and

Johannes Visser

request your presence at a celebration of their love and commitment

on Saturday, the twenty-first of October

at three o'clock in the afternoon

at the Visberg Art Gallery

New York City, New York

"Oh, my God," I say, staring at the paper.

"Those names sound familiar." Caroline is reading over my shoulder and has a puzzled look on her face. "Where have I heard them before?"

"It's Specs and Dutchy," I say, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

I have no idea why these two are inviting me to their wedding... commitment ceremony... civil union... whatever it is. I haven't spoken to any of the crew I used to run with since we graduated. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate them or anything – we just lost touch. I got married a month after graduation and everybody went off in their separate directions for college and nobody bothered to keep up with anybody. Well, okay, I didn't bother to keep up with anybody, but me and Caroline got busy with college and starting a family and whatnot so we didn't have a whole lot of time for shooting the shit at some dive bar downtown. Plus there was a certain someone I've been trying these past ten years to forget about... and so far have not succeeded.

I'm surprised Specs and Dutchy even remember me, let alone think enough of me to invite me to something like this.

"Are you going?" Caroline's voice breaks my train of thought.

"Well, I... I don't know." I look over the invitation again, utterly confused. I have no idea how to respond to something like this. "I haven't talked to anybody from our class in ten years. I don't know if I'd even be welcome."

"They sent you an invitation, Tony," she says, sitting on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, but you know how you send invitations to people out of pity and because it's proper, even though you really don't want them to come? I bet this is one of those. They just sent it to be polite."

Caroline strokes my hair and laughs a little. "You're crazy. They invited you because they want you to come. You don't send out a pity invitation after ten years." She leans down and kisses the top of my hair, then tips my face up by my chin and looks into my eyes. "You owe it to them at least to call." Before I can protest, she taps the invitation where a phone number is listed to R.S.V.P. "No excuses, Tony," she says.

"Alright, alright," I pick up the remote and turn off the ever-cheery Thomas. Junior and Maria automatically wake up and protest.

"Daddy, we were watching that," Junior says, and Maria nods before climbing up into my lap and fixing those big, brown eyes on mine.

"More choo-choo, Daddy."

I laugh and run my hand over her floppy brown curls. "Daddy has to make a phone call, baby. Time for the two of you to get up and terrorize Mama for a while."

"Come on, runts," Caroline says with a grin. "Let's let Daddy alone for a bit and you guys can help me make dinner."

Junior and Maria hop down from the couch and run into the kitchen gleefully, leaving me wincing in fear of the righteous mess in there that will await Caroline and me later tonight.

As soon as they've all disappeared, I get up and head into my office. Plunking down into my desk chair, I stare at the invitation for a moment longer and then pick up the phone and tap out the number.

"Visberg Art Gallery," I hear a familiar voice say cheerfully from the other end. "This is Dan. How can I help you?"

I clear my throat. "Specs?"

The voice laughs a little. "Yeah, who's this?"

"This is Tony... uh, Racetrack."

Specs gasps. "Well, holy shit! Racetrack Higgins, back from the dead! And I thought you'd disappeared off the face of the planet! How the hell are you, man?"

I smile a little bit, something I wouldn't think I'd be doing when talking to a friend from high school. "Can't complain. How about yourself?"

"Good. Really good. Dutchy, too." He sighs, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I wonder if that smile is still the same as I remember it being. "Do you have any idea how long it took to track you down? And then there you are, hiding in plain sight, living in the same damn place we left you." Specs laughs again, and I can't help but laugh along with him.

"Yeah, well, Pulitzer's was calling my name. Couldn't let old Snyder go too long without me terrorizing him, could I?"

"Sounds just like you, Race." He chuckles, and I feel he's still the good-natured, sarcastic Specs he's been since the day I met him. "So, how's teaching treating you? And how did you get Medda to give up her throne?"

"Believe it or not, she retired. She still comes in to hassle me about my teaching techniques now and then, though." I laugh, shaking my head. "But otherwise this whole teaching gig's a pretty cake deal. I mean, my students are significantly less obnoxious than we were."

Specs lets out a loud laugh, and I can't help but grin at the sound of it. I don't know why I cut off contact with him, he's a good guy. "Well, it'd be quite a feat to match our ability to get on anyone's nerves."

I nod, though he can't see it. "So what are you up to these days?"

"Oh, you know, chasin' the ladies, breakin' the law."

I laugh. It's funny, because, if you know him, Specs seems like the gayest son of a bitch alive. The thought of him even looking at a woman seems more absurd than the Mariners making it into the World Series.

"Really, though, I've been working on this comic the past four, maybe five years."

"Oh yeah? Any good?"

I can actually hear Specs grin with pride. "It's sold a couple million copies, yeah."

"Well, congratulations." I smirk, still looking at the invitation. "And Dutch-boy?"

Specs chuckles. "He's a photographer, but did you expect anything less?"

"And what's up with this art gallery thing?"

"We own it. Opened it up about six months ago. I'm surprised you haven't heard of it, we're a pretty swanky place."

I laugh. "Well, I'm out in this honky little suburb, teaching at J.P.'s. You can't expect me to keep up with the lifestyles of the trendy."

"God, you're going to end up being Brian Denton. I expected that from Dave, but not from you." He laughs. "So, other than teaching, what are you up to?"

"Life's pretty tame for me now... I mean, me and Caroline have been married for goin' on eleven years now."

"Congrats, pal. How's she doing?"

"Pretty good, she's teaching music at J.P.'s." I smile. "I got a couple of little ones runnin' around here, too."

Specs makes an exaggerated sound of shock. "Racetrack Higgins, a family man. Who'da thunk it?" We share a laugh. "How many, how old, what are their names? You should be used to this by now."

I grin. "That I am. It's become a second nature, really. Two, first one's Anthony Junior, or just Junior for short, he's six. Smart little fella, he's learnin' to talk just like his pop, with the wisecracks to match." I sit back in my chair, smiling. I missed having a pal to brag to. "Second's Maria, my little girl, she just turned two. Prettiest little thing you'd ever see."

"Jesus, don't tell me you've got a white picket fence and a golden retriever to boot."

I chuckle. "Well, we're waiting on those until we get our extra point-five child."

We share another laugh and then there's a pregnant pause, and I suddenly feel really awkward, like I have no place being on the phone with Specs after this long. I sigh a little and hope he doesn't hear me. "So, I got your invitation."

"I figured. So does that mean you're coming?"

I'm silent again for a moment. "Um, well, I..." I bite my lip. I just don't know. I mean, I have no reason not to go, but then again... I have every reason not to go. I don't know who's going to be there, who I'll see, who I'll talk to and who won't talk to me. It will be, without a doubt, the most awkward thing I'll ever experience. Well... maybe the second-most awkward, the first being a particularly embarrassing event which occurred my sophomore year of high school, but we won't get into that right now.

"Race, you still there?"

I'm snapped back to reality. "Huh? Oh, yeah." I blink. "Sorry."

"So, are you coming or not?"

"Um... yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."

"Great. Well, it's on the twenty-first, that's in three weeks, and it's here at the gallery... you need directions?"

"No, I think I can figure it out."

"Okay. Well, a word of advice, there's a lot going on here that weekend. So if you don't want to deal with the traffic, which, trust me, you don't, I would suggest you just come down on Friday and stay until Monday, book a hotel for the whole weekend."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I might do that."

"I would definitely suggest it."

"Alright."

The door to my office opens and I spin around in my chair to see Caroline's head poked in the door. "Dinner's ready," she says softly, and I nod before she disappears again.

"Specs, I gotta get going."

"Alright. Well, we'll see you in three weeks, then?"

"You bet. Three o'clock." I smile.

"Great. See you then, Race."

"Bye."

Before I hang up, I hear, "Hey, Race?"

"Yeah?"

"It was really good to hear from you again."

I smile. "Yeah... you, too, Specs."

"Bye."

I hang up and walk into the kitchen, wondering what the hell I just got myself into.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I lay awake as Caroline crawls into bed beside me after putting Maria back into bed for the umpteenth time.

"What's wrong?" She lays on her side and I can feel her looking at me through the darkness.

"Nothing's wrong." I roll onto my side and look back at her, the light from the window creating a lovely silhouette. "Why?"

"You're awake."

"Yeah, and so are you."

"You're usually practically a rock by this time of night. Why are you awake?"

I reach out and stroke her hair, her cheek. She looks, feels just the same as she did in high school, though she's filled out a bit more in a couple places after two kids. She's still pretty, even after ten years of being married to someone like me. "Just can't sleep is all." I smile a little. "I'm fine."

I can actually feel her eyebrows knit together and the beginning of the Mommy Stare. I laugh. "I'm okay, Caro. Just got a lot on my mind."

"Like your conversation with Specs today?"

I shrug. "Well, yeah."

"What'd you tell him?" Caroline nestles her head into my chest, wrapping an arm around my waist. We don't cuddle very often anymore, so I figure she's trying to comfort me.

"I said I'd go."

She kisses my cheek, smiles against it. "Good. I'm proud of you, Tony."

I smile. "You're coming with me, right?"

Caroline laughs a little. "No."

My smile fades. "Wait... what? Caro, you have to come."

She shakes her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I wasn't really friends with them in high school."

"Yeah, but you got to know them when we were dating..." I have a feeling this is going to make me resort to begging.

"That doesn't mean we were friends. That means they were my boyfriend's friends, and I was Tony's Girlfriend."

"Caroline, I need you to go with me. I can't go by myself."

She kisses my nose and shakes her head again. "Honey, we can't take the kids into New York City for a weekend."

"We can leave them with my mom. Or your mom. Or my sister."

She laughs a little bit. "Tony, they're too young. They need someone to stay at home with them."

I groan. "Come on, Caro. I haven't seen any of these people in ten years."

"All the more reason for you to go by yourself." Caroline strokes my hair and plants a soft kiss on my lips. "Besides, they sent the invitation to Mr. Higgins, not Mr. and Mrs. Higgins."

"You're part of the package now."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, that's not what I mean." I sigh. "Please. I can't do it alone."

"You have to do this by yourself this time, honey. Besides, I'll be right here waiting for you to complain to when you get back."

I sigh again in exasperation. "Fine. But you owe me. Big time."

She laughs and pushes me onto my back, climbing on top of me. "You know I hate to be in debt."