Bill Caplan came up behind her and put his hands over her eyes. "Guess who," he said.
She turned to him. "Bill!" she said with relief. "How the heck are you! At first I thought I was at someone else's 25th high school reunion. I don't remember a soul!"
"Sure you do!" he said. "Give yourself a few minutes. We'll come drifting back to you!"
"I've stayed away too long," she said.
"True! We've missed you, babe! Where's your mate?"
"Paul couldn't be here," Joanne said. "He's in Europe on business."
"Whoa! Sounds like you two have hit the big time!"
"No, not really. Bill, is it okay if I sit at table with you and your wife?"
"Sure! You remember Annie, don't you? Annie Carstairs. She was three years behind us. We met again at Penn State. I was a senior, she a freshman. I swept her off her feet. She never did get her degree. We were married her sophomore year."
By the time dessert was being served, Joanne felt she belonged again to Eastwood High's Class of 1970. She searched the room for Nino's face, but to no avail.
"Bill, whatever happened to Nino Padrone?" she asked. "He's not here tonight, is he? Paul and I were married right after graduation from Pitt, and moved to Los Angeles. I lost touch."
"You mean JOHN Padrone? Oh, yeah, that's right -- you always called him Nino, didn't you?" Bill said. "Why?"
"His mother called him that," she said. "It's short for Giovannino. Giovanni is John in Italian, and I guess Giovannino is the diminutive. We've known each other since kindergarten, and he's always been Nino."
"You didn't hear what happened to him?" Bill said.
"Hear what?" she asked, but just then Sheldon Miller, the class president, called the room to order.
"Fellow Classmates, let us begin!" he said. "Let's all stand and sing the Alma Mater."
Joanne, feeling foolish, stood with the rest. Suddenly she knew why she had been absent from the reunions all these years, but she sang nevertheless, and was surprised how she remembered every word so well that she could allow her mind to wander. Heard what? she thought, What's Nino been up to?
She smiled, remembering how funny he had been. Almost every day, for twelve years, four of them had walked to and from school together -- she and Nino and Patty Gormly and Artie Carson. But it was always Nino who, with his zany antics and funny stories of his mom, held center stage. Nino's mother, although in this country since she was twenty, had never become fully americanized. Nino used to joke to his friends about her Old World accent and ways, and the seeming disloyalty of it all made Joanne uncomfortable. Still, at Mrs. Padrone's expense, she would laugh until her sides ached. Nino was a master at mimicking his mother.
Suddenly it was as if it were thirty-five years ago and they were all again eight-years-old and in Artie's kitchen. It had started out as one of Nino's pranks, but it escalated. Nino had phoned his mother from Artie's, and held the receiver out so that Joanne and Patty and Art could hear.
"Eh, hello?" his mother said.
"Mrs. Padrone?" Nino said, putting his finger to his lips for them to stop giggling.
"Eh, yes...it'sa me. It'sa Mrs. Padrone."
"This is St. Joseph Hospital calling, Mrs. Padrone." He had a handkerchief over the mouthpiece. "Your little boy Johnny has been hurt."
"Madre di Dio!" she said, wheezing so hard that Nino realized he had gone too far. Suppose she should have a heart attack? His hand shook so that it caused the handkerchief to slip from the mouthpiece.
"Uh...don't be scared," he said. "He's not hurt bad." Quickly he put the handkerchief back in place, but it was too late."
"Oh, yeah?" The wheeze was gone from his mother's voice. "That right? Sure! Nino, this you?"
It was Nino's turn to wheeze. "No, Ma. This is St. Joseph's Hospital. Your little boy....." His voice dwindled. He knew, and they all knew, he had blown it.
"I give you St. Joseph Hospital!" she said. "Wait when you get home, bad boy! I gonna kill you!"
"Aw, Ma!" Nino had said, and left right away for home.
"Why did you do that?" Joanne had asked him later.
"I just wanted to see if she loved me," he said.
The speeches ended about the same time the coffee cups were being cleared. It was time to gather around for the taking of the class reunion photograph. Spouses were excluded, so Joanne stood next to Bill.
"What were you going to tell me?" she asked.
"About what?"
"About John Padrone. You said hadn't I heard?"
"Oh," Bill said. "He killed himself. I'm sorry to have to tell you. Funny you never heard. He just put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger."
Joanne's knees felt wobbly. "But why?"
"A note to his mother said he never felt he was loved. There've been rumors that he was gay, and that was why he did it, that he felt his parents wouldn't understand. But I'm not buying that. I just think he was never very happy. All those years we were growing up together, I guess his clowning around was just an act."
The photographs were to be mailed to each classmate. Joanne received hers about a month later, after she was back home in L.A. She slid it from its envelope, and seeing her stricken face in the photo, tore the picture in half, and then in half again.
"Oh, Nino!" she said. She hurt, but she could not cry for him. Why hadn't she just stayed away and never known?