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Reunion Blues
By Bridgette Burton

Farsi enters she is a woman in her late 30s, dressed to the nines.

Farsi: Hi. Just went to my school reunion. Twenty years. (Indicating her clothes) Didnt have anything to prove, I
just like dressing up. (she smiles self deprecatingly) Why does anyone go to a reunion? To see what happened to
everyone else, to show what happened to you.

In my case I could show that Im hot, successful and happy. That I live a very prosperous regular middle class life.

My name is Farsi. Yes. Like the language. Try explaining that one to 15 year olds. It lends itself to Fartsi and
Fartso. But I already had a nickname. Psycho.

I was called Psycho from 1987 till 1989 when I finished high school. I did something to earn that name.
Nicknames can be quite random, or they can be specific, about a specific moment in time that is so momentous
and noteworthy that it demands something. It demands a name change.

I was completely and boringly in love with a cute guy in my school. His name was Roman. Does that conjure him
up for you? He was desert-booted splendor. Tall and lean and muscular in that way that is easy when you are
16. He was a honey, a spunk, a stud, pukka, awesome.. he was all those things to me. I was nothing to him. It
wasnt that I was beneath him, or that I was the ugly girl. I was just completely unnoticed. Until dot dot dot

My schoolmates wanted a year 10 prom. Not a blue light disco, not a school dance. They wanted a prom.
Everyone was mad for Molly Ringwald and pink dresses and PROM! So thats what we did. What is the
difference between prom and the school dance? I dont have any idea, but it did feel a bit more special
somehow and everyone kept saying (American accent) Are you going to prom?. I was going. I got a triangle
perm specially for it. I looked, really, really ridiculous. In the nicest possible way. I didnt have a date and I
probably wouldnt be asked to dance, but it didnt matter because I had a mission. I was going to make Roman
notice me. I knew that it could happen, Id seen it on TV. The way that I was going to do it was by singing. A
song. To him. At the prom.

I had been in the school musical that year, with some success. Theatre students thought I was pretty cool.
Teachers congratulated me and most of the school population had seen me be good. So life was a tiny bit
different. I felt more secure, more myself, more audacious. I was an emerging theatrical star, I was full of
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hormones that didnt allow me to think clearly, I was easily excited, I was the loveable, if not yet loved,
underdog! It was in that headspace that I decided to sing to boy that I loved. My plan after that was not so fully
formed, but I didnt let that deter me.

I had a big pink dress on, like every girl there, it was a sea of puffy pink. I was with my tiny group of friends. I got
up on the stage and the music suddenly stopped. I guess the DJ thought I had an announcement. Which I did. I
started to sing. I prefaced it with This is for Roman. People were giggling at that, but I pressed on. Roman
himself stood impassively on the dance floor, as if this sort of thing happened intolerably often. I started to sing.
(long pause) Anyway they laughed I stopped and then they called me Psycho. Fifteen year old dreams crushed.
End of story.

So when I went back tonight. I knew that I was not going to be a Psycho. I was going to be Farsi Smith, publisher,
mother, wife and all around normal, if not impressive, woman.

Gesture to clothes

No pink.

Tonights reunion was held in the exact same school hall. And for a moment it felt a bit like we were at prom.
Then I realized that it was an exact copy. They had used the same theme and the same decorations! The reunion
was the prom. Except 20 years later. Which was fine, because I am Farsi Smith.

I pinned my nametag and my smile on and I cruised in. I came with a friend, a school friend who had been talked
into going by me. We stood looking at the hall. The teachers. School chums. The DJ. It was eerily the same,
except everyone was old. It struck me then, almost immediately, that this was going to be one very long session
of small talk.

I set about being normal. I was charming, funny and sophisticated and no one knew who I was. They would look
at my name tag and they would look at me and I knew that they were thinking that it was weird they didnt
remember that name. I really was a success story gone was the theatrical 15 year old singing nightmare and in
her place was me. Instead of that girl who had sung to the cutest boy in the school there was a middle aged
mother desperate to fit in. What a fantastic transformation.

But so were they. All of them, to varying degrees. All here to see if anyone would recognize a vestige of their
former self. To see if any of those 15 year olds remained.
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It occurred to me then that Psycho would have probably been really bored by me. Another adult. In fact she
wouldnt have even noticed me, I didnt do theatre, I wasnt urban or cool, I didnt engage in some interesting
adult hobby. I was completely different to her. Little Psycho. Then I saw Roman.

A bit paunchy. And balding. But still good looking. I went up to say hello, and he looked at me smiled and said
Did we have Maths A together (We did not).

He didnt know who I was. He probably never had. I looked at him and that whole room and I thought what we
need is something that lets us remember those fifteen year olds. I mean, isnt that why we are here? We came
to remember us, with all our horrible teenage behavior, our ferocity, our pounding sense of hope. What we
really needed, the reunion, was something that took us back there. Reminded us. Something momentous and
noteworthy. Something that deserves a name change

She gets a microphone.

Hello. Hi everyone. I hope that you are having a good night. My name is Farsi Smith, but you probably
remember me as Psycho.

There was a slight murmuring and someone audibly said Oh my God, didnt she used to be blonde?.

Roman, this is for you

There was a slight dawning on Roman the mans face this obviously didnt happen as often anymore.
She begins singing Alone by Heart. She begins a-capella and then the backing track comes in big finish.

"Alone"
I hear the ticking of the clock
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark
I wonder where you are tonight
No answer on the telephone
And the night goes by so very slow
Oh I hope that it won't end though
Alone

Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
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How do I get you alone (Roman)
How do I get you alone

You don't know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight, oh
You don't know how long I have waited
and I was going to tell you tonight
But the secret is still my own
and my love for you is still unknown
Alone
Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone
Alone, alone

They danced and they sang along and they clapped. Then I went home to my husband.
It was a good reunion.