Late Morning, Thursday, March 27, 2025, Miami, Florida
Hi, everyone.
As I prepare for another writing workday, hopefully crafting the final chapters of Reunion: Coda, I thought I’d share a sparkling tidbit from the novel’s Prologue. Imagine, we’re nearing the end of a literary journey that started two years ago on the other side of Florida! It’s been quite the ride, filled with ups, downs, and a rather peculiar amount of insomnia.
So, without further ado, here’s the fourth and final scene of the Prologue. Fear not, it’s spoiler-free! This part of the book serves as a bridge between the first Jim Garraty story, Reunion: A Story, and the grand finale I’m diligently working to complete.
Enjoy, and may your day be filled with a touch of humor and a sprinkle of sparkle!
“Did you have a good last day of school?” Mom asked, her voice warm with curiosity.
Prologue, Reunion: Coda
“It was okay,” I replied, dropping my backpack onto the couch. “I only had one final, remember?”
“In Economics, right?”
“Yep. I think I passed.”
Mom chuckled. “That’s because you studied. You study hard, you pass your tests. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Besides,” she added, “you’re a smart cookie. I knew you would ace it.”
“Did You Have a Good Last Day of School?”
I had just closed the front door and was shrugging off my heavy backpack, stuffed with my 1983 De Capello yearbook and a dog-eared copy of A Bridge Too Far—my library companion after the last exam—when I heard Mom’s voice calling from the kitchen.
“Jim, is that you?”
I thought about quipping, “No ma’am, it’s President Reagan here to invite you to a White House dinner with Nancy and me!” But I was too drained for jokes, so I settled for, “Yeah, Mom, c’est moi.”
Mom stepped into the living room, wiping her hands on a towel. Her striking red hair, gray-green eyes, and freckled pale skin gave her the timeless presence of someone equally at home in a Norman Rockwell painting or a Van Morrison ballad. From the mouthwatering aroma wafting through the air, it was obvious she was making lasagna. It was her special occasion dish—a tradition for birthdays or, once, the candlelit dinner I shared with Kathy at the tender age of fifteen.
The thought of Kathy—or Cherry, as her name demanded—brought an unwelcome flood of memories. Her betrayal had stung worse than lemon juice in a papercut, an emotional disaster on par with Operation Market-Garden. I shook my head and pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on plans for Saturday: seeing Return of the Jedi with Mark and the crew. A last hurrah before the unknown waters of adulthood.
“Did you have a good last day of school?” Mom asked, her voice warm with curiosity.
“It was okay,” I replied, dropping my backpack onto the couch. “I only had one final, remember?”
“In Economics, right?”
“Yep. I think I passed.”
Mom chuckled. “That’s because you studied. You study hard, you pass your tests. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Besides,” she added, “you’re a smart cookie. I knew you would ace it.”
“Aw, Mom,” I said. “I wouldn’t say I ‘aced’ it. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “I think you aced it, Jim.” A pause. Then, with cautious curiosity, she added, “And the rest of your day? I know you didn’t ditch school.”
I shrugged. “It was okay. I took a nap in the library after the test, had lunch with Mark, and said goodbye to some of my teachers. I’ll say goodbye to most of my friends at commencement on Friday.” My voice wavered at the thought.
“Did you say goodbye to that girl you like?” Mom’s question was gentle, but it landed like a sucker punch.
Tears welled up, spilling over before I could blink them away. “Yes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
In an instant, Mom closed the distance between us, wrapping me in her arms. She held me as I sobbed, her hand gently patting my back in the comforting rhythm of my childhood. “Oh Jim,” she murmured, her voice full of love. “Maybe you’ll see her again someday. Life has a funny way of bringing people back together.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “No, Mom. I might see Marty at graduation, but after that…”
A fresh wave of tears silenced me.
Mom brushed my tears away. “Oh, kiddo, I know it hurts like hell right now. I was young and in love when I was your age, too, you know. And I know that you don’t want to hear this—or believe it, for that matter—but you might see Marty again someday. And if you don’t, there will be other women. You’ll see.”
I don’t want any other women, I thought petulantly. I didn’t say it; I knew it was a childish and churlish thing to say, especially when Mom was only trying to assuage my feelings of anger and despair at the unfairness of it all. I kept the thought to myself, but I didn’t shake it out of my mind either.
“Look, James Garraty,” Mom said, half-sweetly, half-stern. “Life isn’t always fair. And all right, I don’t have all the answers, and maybe I shouldn’t have said you’ll see Marty again after Friday’s ceremony. I know you feel like this is the end of the world for you, just like you did when you broke up with Cherry a couple of years ago. But believe me when I tell you that you’ll get over it. Maybe not completely, but you’ll see. Time heals all wounds, Jim. Try to believe that.”
Yeah, right, I thought sourly even as I finally stopped blubbering like a little kid. Still, I knew Mom really believed that, even if I did not. Mustering all my willpower, I managed to give my mother a wan smile. “Thanks, Mom,” I said quietly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Jim,” she said as she let me go and patted the wrinkles from her floral print dress. “Now, go wash up—take a shower if you like. It might make you feel a bit better. Dinner won’t be ready for an hour anyway.” And with that, she walked with quick steps back to the kitchen, where the tasks of making lasagna were easier to manage than the topsy-turvy emotions of a heartbroken 18-year-old boy.
A Captivating Start to Reunion: Coda
By Copilot
In the fourth scene of the prologue, Did You Have a Good Last Day of School? Alex offers a poignant slice of adolescence on the brink of change. Through vivid prose and emotionally resonant storytelling, the narrative plunges readers into the world of Jim Garraty, a high school senior grappling with love, loss, and the inevitable march toward adulthood.
The scene masterfully combines warmth and heartbreak, opening with a lighthearted flicker of humor before unfurling into a tender exchange between Jim and his mother. Nostalgia for 1983 is palpable, with cultural touchstones like Return of the Jedi and a dog-eared copy of A Bridge Too Far grounding the narrative in a time of youthful idealism tempered by harsh realities.
Yet what truly shines here is the authenticity of the characters. Jim’s pain over unrequited love resonates deeply, his struggle universal to anyone who has faced the bittersweet ache of saying goodbye. His mom’s wisdom—imperfect yet heartfelt—provides a gentle anchor, contrasting her son’s turbulent emotions with a grounded perspective born of experience.
With touches of cinematic imagery and layers of emotional depth, this scene is both intimate and expansive, pulling readers into Jim’s world while teasing the broader themes of Reunion: Coda. Alex’s deft ability to evoke the rawness of growing pains ensures that readers are as invested in Jim’s journey as they are eager to turn the page.
This is a prologue that delivers far more than a starting point; it sets a tone of reflection, resilience, and the unpredictable beauty of life’s intersections. Reunion: Coda promises to be a deeply affecting tale, and this scene is an unforgettable invitation to join the ride.
A Certain Point of View, Too 
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