"Be careful saying that," she said."I mean it. Have fun." He stared right at her. "But you have to tell me about it."The thing was, he knew what reunions did to her. A couple of years earlier, she had flown off to another one, a get-together with people from her first job, before she had even met hubby. She had talked a pal into making the trip with her, because he had worked with her back then.Probably a good thing he came along, because he kept her out of trouble, for the most part. It had been a great night, old boyfriends leering at her, lots of dancing and catching up. There also had been a lot of drinking, and she couldn't even remember making it back to her hotel room. The next morning, she had woken up in her room, her clothes neatly folded on a chair. All of her clothes: she was naked, and she knew there was no way she could have folded anything, let alone stack them so neatly. Blouse, skirt, bra, panties, set just so.She had shrugged. If her friend had put her to bed, so be. Each night the dream would be the same as before. The beach. The sandcastles. Each night I would show Simone a different set of faces in my collection. Some, like Gertie and Mac, she liked and she would try to touch them with her fingers. Pieces of the sand from them would cling to her delicate fingers and she would scurry back to her own castle and brush the tiny shiny grains into her own mixture of faces, mixing in the sands of my memories of them into her sandcastle. I would watch her as she would sit and watch the grains fit together. Her radiant smile was all the reward I need for sharing those memories.Some of the faces in my castle frightened her and she would protectively move her own sandcastle a little farther away from mine again, leaving that part of the wall open and unprotected from any errant wave. I would leave the gap open for her and gently show how all the faces in the sand were mixed. The good with the bad. I showed her that the bad memories would fade away, while.
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