Memories Left Behind

By Cal Muzikar

Memories Left Behind is an honest, thought-provoking and well-crafted narrative about mid-lifers, women and men, who despite challenging circumstances, persevere and alter the outcome of their lives.

During this story, four members of the Lakeland High graduates of '89 receive invitations to attend a thirtieth-class reunion. The event will present them an opportunity to reconnect with their closest friends from the past.

This is a story of how two women never decoupled, and how they persevered through gut-wrenching adversity in their adult lives.
It's also a story of how two men found a way to restore their friendship after three decades of self-imposed separation.

The main characters in this story are relatable for readers, and it's easy to feel empathetic and deeply connected to their touching stories. Intriguing supporting actors play a critical role in the novel. Each one lends credence to the plot line and a full measure of poignant human drama.

Memories Left Behind is an absorbing deep-dive into the challenges facing middle-age women and men, those confronting the stress of sustaining relationships, balancing life and work, and the pursuit of contentment in the unrecognizable landscape of our frenzied culture. This book is an honest and thought-provoking narrative about mid-lifers, who despite challenging circumstances, persevere and alter the outcome of their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098368531

Book preview

Aftermath

Chapter 1

On a blustery evening in early February of 2019, Chuck Elliot is ready to turn in when he receives a call from an old high school buddy. They haven’t spoken for nearly thirty years.

Chuck’s a school psychologist, who lives alone and works in Rockville, Maryland, outside of Washington, D.C. Despite a week off for R and R skiing in Stowe, Vermont while on Christmas break, he returned feeling distressed about the coming year. Over two decades of service in public education, along with social hibernation caused by the aftershock of an acrimonious divorce, left him floundering on a sea of mid-life insecurity. He’s stuck in neutral, worn out in an endless loop of routine and ritual, and secluded in reality without a significant other, or the kinship of a close friend.

•••

I’d like to speak with Chuck Elliot, the caller stated in a businesslike tone.

This is Elliot. Chuck grumbled unaccustomed to late night calls.

Yup, this is Pete DeSantis. Remember me?

Chuck instantly sorted through his mind’s rolodex, and there, in his mind’s eye was his sidekick of old, grim-faced, staring back at him.

So this is really you, huh, DeSantis?

"Hey Chuck, remember when we cut study hall in the spring of junior year and skipped out in your ‘82 Z28 black Camaro. I’m that old friend. And, if you remember the principal walked out of the post office and saw us parked nearby the sub shop and… we were burned!"

Chuck, stunned by the resurrection of a teenage misadventure retorted, You gotta be kiddin’ me! Why in the hell would you mention something like that?

"Let me finish," Pete shot back.

As I recall, you let out a symphony of profanity when he strolled over to your vehicle. The man looked inside the driver’s side window, got in your face and growled a high-speed reprimand! Back then, a principal was the man. Anyway, we took a Saturday detention rather than a two day suspension for what…for two crummy spiced ham subs.

Chuck snickered under his breath. What a superb memory! That Chevy Camaro provided many adventures back in the day. You loved riding shotgun didn’t you?

Pete countered his pushy comment with the aftermath of that lunch time caper.

Yeah, I loved that Z28. The fact remains your hair-brained scheme cost me my part-time job at the lumber yard. Check this. My mom gets a call from the VP informing her of my misconduct. She never said much… called me a mental midget and went back to watching her dumb soaps. Anyway, that was her level of interest in her only child. Okay. Now that I’ve got your attention, I called to invite you to our thirtieth class reunion coming up in late April.

There was a momentary pause before Chuck responded.

You know, it’s a good thing I didn’t cut you off after your opening monologue. A minute ago I was watching the weather channel tracking a blizzard, and now I’m on the line with a guy I haven’t spoken with in half a lifetime. Yeah...it’s been a long time DeSantis.

Yes it has. Ah, the worries of nearing the ‘Big Five-Oh, Pete replied sounding overly dramatic. Tell you this much. I still love listening to classic rock and I’m not alone am I?

Whoa there Pete, slow down with the aside on middle-age.

Amused by his comment, Pete barked back, Thanks for the assessment.

Why are you calling me so late? Are you in another time zone? Elliot interjected.

Pete thought, I’m not gonna give in, not just yet. I think he’s spooked by my phone call.

Listen to you. If there was ever a night person it was you. On weekends we used to stay in gear till midnight. I’d be falling out at the diner and you’d be sippin’ on a Coke, munching gravy and fries rambling on about some cute babe. Hmm…Angie Peselli comes to mind.

Jolted by Pete’s remarkable recollection, Chuck shot back, Seriously Pete, you oughta start a conversation with a long lost buddy casually. You know. Something like, Hi. This is Pete DeSantis, we used to hang out and I have some news that might interest you.

What fun would that be? Besides, we’re not strangers. Pete relied remembering, Elliot was a ‘Smooth Operator’ like the song by Sade; dressed in black tee shirts or knits, Levis, black boots and a three-quarter length black leather jacket for three seasons a year. That was his fashion preference and admittedly, the guy had the magnetism and mystique of a rock star.

Pete gave Chuck his due, saying You gotta point there old friend. Small talk is a potent icebreaker for strangers…but, we’re not, are we? Hey, haven’t you forgotten something?

What are you referring to?

Back in the day I’d follow you with whatever shenanigans you thought were worth it. Besides, there was nobody else for me to hang with except you Elliot.

Stop right there amigo. C’mon, we had some good times, and I never dragged you anywhere because I had the wheels and you had two feet. Enough! So how’s life treating you?

Pete considered this inquiry and had his lines well-rehearsed.

Rather than issue a rebuttal Pete answered unflinchingly.

I live in Long Valley near Hackettstown, in Morris County. That’s in Jersey…Eastern Standard Time. I’m happily married, quite content and reasonably healthy. My two girls graduated from college a couple of years ago, and thankfully they’re out on their own. You see, I’m sort of semi-retired, practicing law out of my home. That’s my bio. What about you Chuck?

Wait a second! That’s your story in a nutshell. How should I interpret that…huh…content, healthy, happily married, and sort of semi-retired? When I saw you last you were a confused insecure kid, scared about leaving home, and skinny as a yardstick. Did you at least hold on to your wholesome choir boy looks?

Where the hell did that come from? Pete wondered

Elliot, you’re delusional! Some memory you got of me. Yeah, I still got my wavy hair…boyish looks…I’m forty-seven and probably look it. Hey man, why all the sarcasm?

This is getting tedious Chuck thought. There was an edge in his voice as he replied, I’m not shutting you down, but I’m really beat…anything else you want to add?

Pete chided him. Where’s your patience? Give me a break…I anticipated more give and take to fill the blank pages of the past thirty years. You gonna fade out on me?

Pete, cut the crap! You’ve got five minutes. That’s it! Chuck replied harshly.

"Okay, here’s the rest of the story. The Lakeland High School class reunion will be at the Crystal Palace in Point Pleasant on April 30th. The formal invitations are in the mail. Over the past few nights, I’ve been in contact with a bunch of our old classmates. I’ve heard some surprising news, some good chatter and some tragic tales.

Remember John Dugan. He was killed in the Gulf War. George Segale dropped dead shoveling snow last winter. Check this. He made it big on Wall Street in tech stocks and retired early to the Hamptons. Look where it got him. Nancy Stapleton, that hot blond cheerleader you dated, lung cancer killed her last year. I also heard that Buddy Consella…"

Chuck cut him off. Dog gone it Pete, you have any news that doesn’t involve a casualty of war or somebody’s untimely death? What about your folks? How’re they doing?

My parents are dead and buried some time ago. Do you mind if we leave it at that?

DeSantis, mine are too. I agree with you. They’re long gone, so yeah, let it be.

There was another deliberate pause giving Pete time to regroup.

Moving on, two weeks ago, I received a letter with a call list from Jimmy Farrell. He was the president of our class, a real gentleman. He graduated from Lehigh, got a Masters in engineering from Stevens, and manages a R&D department for Dow Chemical in Delaware.

I’m not surprised about his success, but I am curious why you agreed to make the calls.

Elliot, I’m pretty sure someone referred me to him. Anyway, the oddity about this type of phone conversation is that when I identified myself and extended the invitation, for whatever reason some people wanted to talk; talk about how they’re doing or what misfortune befell them. Others said thanks for the heads up and that’s it. You’re the exception. We spent a lotta time together and not playing sports. How about this late breaking news? Twenty minutes ago I spoke with Tanya Mellenkoff, your former girlfriend and our class of ’89 Homecoming Queen.

The reference to his former teenage love came out of the ether. Nevertheless, not prone to reminiscing about that time in his youth, Chuck directed the conversation elsewhere.

Forget Tanya. I suppose it’s impossible to issue an invitation like a dental reminder left on voicemail. You got sidetracked a lot didn’t you? That’s understandable. Most people will share choice tidbits of their successful life experience. And, of course they mention their kids.

Boy, you hit the proverbial nail on the head, Pete blurted out. Hey Chuck, sure you’re not interested in hearing news about Tanya?

Not tonight. I’d rather hear more about you.

Pete let the response hang there a moment.

Okay. I’ll give a quick summary. Long ago, I graduated from Rider University with a major in business and a minor in English and tons of student debt. After six months of preparing for the LSAT while working as a security guard at Rockaway Mall in northern New Jersey, I got accepted into Rutgers Law School in Newark. Needless to say I gathered more substantial debt. Obviously it took years to pay off those loans, but I looked forward to a promising career.

I’m impressed, but Law, I’d of thought something like that lay beyond your grasp. At Lakeland you were a mediocre student if my memory is right. Jeez, I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you to make that climb. Frankly, I thought you’d end up wearing cheap overalls with a company logo across the back. Well, good for you. Please continue.

Pete considered saying ‘drop dead or fuck off,’ but that would’ve been surrendering.

Obviously, there was no help from my folks and Rutgers was a tough grind! I worked part-time jobs even as a night custodian at a high school. I drove a beat up, rusty, ten year old Honda Civic with 200K miles and never had my own digs. After I graduated and passed the New York Bar I landed a job with a corporate firm in Manhattan. In case you don’t know what that’s like…I’d research cases, and write a summary for the lead attorneys handling all types of litigation. I’m talking about companies that were our multi-million dollar clients. I did that for two years until someone decided to give me an office with a view. After that, they owned me.

Pete’s story awakened Chuck’s curiosity and despite his fatigue, he wanted to hear more.

That’s it? It doesn’t sound like you enjoyed your career choice, he replied smugly.

Pete thought, Boy if he only knew. Then he freely admitted, "I turned into a clone like most young go-getters, a carbon copy, a legal mannequin, with little work-life balance. Yup, I was another Big Apple yuppie with a six figure salary who read the Wall Street Journal on a Jersey Central train. I lived like that for years. Between the long hours, commuter costs, city taxes, and the wear and tear on my family, it’s a miracle I even lasted that long. That firm withered away my conscience and sense of morality until I was running on empty."

I’m not surprised. Chuck replied. To my way of thinking there’s always been lots of law and no order. Corporate legal firms in the city have no heart, and certainly without one iota of humanity. So they took yours. What’d you expect? I’ve had a few run-ins with bottom feeders. The ones I’ve dealt with call themselves child advocates. In reality they’re first-class nit-pickers of the Special Education codes. That said, I’ll get off my soapbox now.

I’m not gonna dispute what you said about my profession. To finish the story, after twenty years of blood-letting I accepted a buyout last year, and received a year’s severance pay. My 401K is solid for now. The timing of the offer couldn’t have been better because like other professionals of our generation my disguise was wearing thin. The final years really sucked.

You’re not alone in wearing a disguise at the workplace, Chuck quickly pointed out.

I appreciate your understanding. Last fall, I started working out of my home; drawing up wills, doing personal bankruptcies and setting up living trusts. Just so you know, I never practiced criminal law, Pete declared emphatically. You see, civil law is colorless…just remember this… Polo is the sport of kings, but litigation is the sport of the rich. You got that?

How appropriate and how true, Chuck replied earnestly. Then Pete continued.

Well, I’ve got no prostrate trouble, passed my first colonoscopy, and I’m still active. I walk a lot, play racquet ball twice a week at the Y in Chester, and do some Peloton workouts. How ‘bout you Chuck? You still wearing a leather jacket and driving a muscle car like….

Chuck wouldn’t let him finish. There you go Pete! That’s more like it. I find it interesting how you summed up the last thirty years in a few hundred words of biographical metadata. You’re good at it! You brought me up to the present at warp speed. However, I’m sure in the course of making calls you gave your bio out and heard theirs back a bunch of times.

That’s an affirmative, Pete answered abruptly, like a cadet reporting to a superior.

"I won’t ask you if you had to do it over would you follow the standard ‘Yuppie’ model becoming a corporate legal professional. Personally, I think you should’ve worked at Disney World as a character like Mickey Mouse for the kiddies. You’d have been happier."

Pete grimaced but kept silent waiting for Chuck’s next parry.

DeSantis let’s save ‘the road not taken’ theme for another day. So you found a soul-mate and she stuck by you. That’s nearly impossible; most of us X’ers are on a second go-around with careers and wives. How’d you meet her and why’d she settle for you?

So you want to hear more? Pete quipped. That’s fine with me. Her name’s Catherine, she’s also a lawyer who specializes in real estate law. It’s uncomplicated, plus she gets twelve hundred-a-pop for doing title work and closings. I met her at Rutgers Law School.

Smart lady, huh? Did you ever tell her about your former life growing up in Lakeland?

Pete purposely ignored that inquiry and continued. One night after a class I asked her out for a drink. I liked her quick wit and she squabbled with me over frivolous lawsuits, gender inequality, but especially the idiotic invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan and the current political theater. Catherine is the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met. She’s attractive, articulate and self-confident and comes from a family of professionals. I made up my mind if I passed the New York Bar, and saved enough money, only then would I ask her to marry me. I put those conditions on myself to give me an incentive, and I put my heart and mind into achieving those goals because I knew she was the one. That’s it, plain and simple. So don’t get snarky on me.

Chuck stifled a chuckle and snipped. How noble of you, so somehow you convinced Catherine to believe in you. I imagine losing her would have blown a crater in your heart. Oh, I get it alright. I bet she knows next to nothing about your dysfunctional home life before your escape from Lakeland. Bet you kept that file locked up didn’t you? Check this buddy. I’ve done the same goddamn thing. Even so, in the end you lived happily ever after. That is except for one thing. You never figured on the trade-off with the job. But then again, getting half of a dream is a damn good deal to my way of thinking. Ole friend, now you’re on overtime. What else do I need to know about things before I terminate tonight’s insightful discourse?

Pete considered taking his leave at that moment, but he couldn’t keep the urge in check.

Okay Elliot. I think it’s indefensible how you ditched me when we left for college.

Caught off guard by the accusation, Chuck chose to ignore his indictment for now.

Aw Pete, forget about it. It’s old news. Whatever… did you stay in touch with anyone?

Nice move, Pete thought deciding to put the issue on hold.

Fair enough… I’ll table that topic for now. Fortunately, some years back I met up with Roger Kempson and Leo Zeigler. You didn’t know Leo. Back then he was a nice Jewish kid, low-key and kinda shy. He lived out in the Pine Barrens by the airport. Anyway, Leo got us together one night at a bar in Bay Head. We had a hell-of-a-good time. I laughed my ass off reliving the old days, talking about goofy classmates and the babes we never dated because they ignored us. I’ve been in contact with them ever since, and I consider them as my good friends.

The names sound familiar, but I can’t picture their faces…well good for you.

You remember Mike Osborne from Stein’s History class? Believe it or not, he went to Rider University and I bumped into him a couple of times during my stay there. But you know how it is, once an asshole always an asshole. Looking back, I wish one of us would’ve beaten the snot out of him. It should’ve been me. Maybe it would’ve done him some good.

Man, you ought to hear yourself. He was like a character in an Aesop’s fable. He was a fly on my back…I didn’t even notice he was there.

There was a moment of silence. Then Pete probed further.

Hey Elliot, it’s your turn. You gonna fill me in. Don’t worry; I’m not gonna post it on Facebook. You can remain incommunicado. So you’ve lived well and prospered, is that right?

Chuck refused to answer and retorted, What about you, anything else to share?

"You’re doing it again, you’re avoiding the question. Tell you what. Suppose for the sake of peace, I give you a little more background, but then it’s your turn…I mean it!"

Cornered, Chuck replied sarcastically OK, I’ll go along with that for the sake of peace.

Like I said, all things considered I’m a very lucky man. Our daughters are career women. One’s in public relations and the other in hospital administration. No planned marriages or grandchildren at this time. I’m working in a stress-free environment at home, there’s time to read and relax, and I’ve learned to cook. I still love spending time at the Jersey Shore with Catherine. Life’s good…no, life’s wonderful when you’re with the right woman.

Pete had no way of knowing he’d touched a raw nerve. Indeed, that piece of Chuck’s personal history was stamped classified in bold red letters. Privately, he pined for better times.

Ah… Pete you’re still in love. That was always the highest priority for you! I figured you’d have followed Terry Anne to the ends of the earth. It’s a crying shame you lost her. So I guess your mortgage’s paid off, you drive an SUV and go out for dinner with friends on Saturday night. I also suspect your wife’s still intimate with you once in a while…sounds like a fairy tale.

The stinging mockery in Chuck’s voice was nothing new, but it still cut Pete deeply.

You make it sound so mundane. I don’t appreciate it. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.

DeSantis, if I sound bitter it’s because I haven’t been as fortunate as you. Bluntly, life’s been a bitch; like I’m swimming upstream against the current, so excuse me for being envious.

Pete wanted to believe him, but found it difficult.

Chuck, you don’t get it. This is the life I always wanted…like having some conventional normalcy. It’s what I worked for. Believe me, I’m more than satisfied with the way things turned out. What about you? Did you get what you wanted, did you get half of your dreams. Well?

Chuck knew he was now on safe ground so he gave him a thumbnail sketch.

After I graduated East Stroudsburg I spent three years teaching Social Studies in Long Branch. Then I went to Temple University in Philly and worked part time at the college, and I drove a cab on weekends, all to get a certification in school psychology along with my Masters Degree. I picked up student loan debt like you did, but frankly, I never enjoyed teaching.

What honesty! That’ll take time for me to digest. Please continue, Pete insisted.

"Being a high school psychologist is awfully stressful. Just so you know, for the record, I hate psycho-babble and never use it with young people. The thing is…kids aren’t kids anymore, if you hadn’t noticed. There are too many techno gadgets to distract them from their natural curiosity. They’re all stuck on the fast track, raised to be miniature adults by part-time lazy parents. In the worst cases, parents become hostages to their kids for the sake of peace. It’s the same thoughtless strategy…threaten to punish and promise to reward. Many of these troubled kids were sold a bill of goods by well-meaning adults who promised more than they could deliver. Some folks tried to build walls to keep their kids out of reality and insulate them. They get lost too. By my reckoning, smart phones and social media took away their innocence and led them to play video games, text and visit chat rooms. Their language skills suffered the most. Worse, they didn’t learn to get along with others, to be responsible or resourceful. I used to believe I could make a difference, but in my line of work, it’s hard to measure success.

Man, you’re spot on with those observations. After hearing your take on kids and their parents I’m not gonna ask about your professional life…it’s solid. How’s your personal life?

It was getting late and Chuck was way past being tolerant.

Enough already…suppose I give you a summation so we can end this conversation. Yeah, it’s true DeSantis. We were buddies at Lakeland High and long before that. We looked out for each other and hung out at the diner when we should’ve been hitting the books. Our home life sucked big time and we both know why. We parked in the Pine Barrens, drank too much beer, went to concerts and listened to rock. We cut corners with surgical precision and somehow survived the perils of our adolescence. The times we got high, we made damn sure it was safe to do so. In short, without any anchors or role models we were damn lucky, really, really lucky!

That we were. It’s mind-boggling, Pete chimed in.

Remember when that judge took my license away for speeding down 13th Street doing sixty plus in my Camaro. I appeared in court before the Senior Prom and that righteous judge made me fork over my driver’s license. Can you imagine how I felt? That night I didn’t give a damn we rode there in your dad’s old Plymouth Reliant. All I know is you saved me that night.

Astonished by his recollection, Pete replied enthusiastically,

Elliot that’s one hell-of-a statement of fact, you make me sound like a hero!

That night you were. Listen Pete, we’ve been at this for a while. I gotta be up at five-thirty. How ‘bout if you call me sometime next week and we’ll continue this trip down memory lane? My brain’s on overload. If I come to Jersey are you gonna let me stay at your home?

Sure I’ll put you up. What about your wife, is she coming? Do you have a family?

DeSantis, I’m divorced, no kids. Then again, that’s another story for another night.

Well, that’s disheartening. I suppose that fills in some of the empty spaces of your resume, but just barely. Pete replied, still miffed at Chuck’s resistance to sharing more.

I suppose there’s no use trying to fall asleep. Not after all the stuff we covered in the past fifteen minutes, Chuck moaned. I’m headin’ for the liquor cabinet. What about you?

I’m pretty beat. No need for a drink tonight. But there’s one more thing I want you to think about after we hang up. It’s bothered me for a long time.

What’s that DeSantis? Do I owe you money? Chuck said with a smirk.

We were best friends once and nothing can change that. It’s why so many people asked me about you. When I came up empty they dropped the subject. Wanna comment on that?

It’s a fool’s errand to go down that road tonight, Chuck thought.

It’s been interesting…really interesting. We’ll be talking again. I’m sure of that Pete.

After disconnecting, Chuck made a vodka and tonic, melted in his recliner and let his thoughts wander. Rubbing his tired eyes, he visualized Pete and his former girlfriend Tanya. Then the plain truth hit him like a bolt of lightning...and hit him hard. DeSantis had been his closest friend throughout their entire adolescence. Likewise, Tanya was, in fact, his first love.

Ten minutes later after refreshing his drink, he wondered. If I open the door and revisit the memories left behind I may live to regret it. Considering how lousy things have been going lately I gotta think about this opening gambit by Pete…and gotta think about it long and hard.

Chapter 2

Unlike Chuck Elliot, when Terry Anne Hartley answered the phone the following evening she couldn’t have been more delighted it was Pete DeSantis. They’d taken classes together and shared a lunch table during their junior and senior years. She’d been his lab partner and carried him through the ordeal of chemistry. He in turn helped her out on Pep Club fundraisers. They had gone on a few dates, but after a month, mutually agreed it was better to keep their friendship than deal with the social pressures involved in being a couple. Terry was animated, fun-loving, good-natured, and a sympathetic listener who kept secrets better than the CIA. She was his anchor, and when he was with her he was himself.

Terry Anne, this is Pete DeSantis. It’s been a long time… much too long!

Oh my God…it’s really you. What a pleasant surprise!

Glad to hear you say that, Pete replied with a chuckle.

Can I share something with you that just popped in my head? Terry asked.

Terry, you can share anything because I never would’ve survived high school without you. We both know that. Yeah, go ahead, Pete said merrily.

Remember at our 20th reunion when you asked me to dance? Believe it or not, my husband got incredibly jealous. He saw you give me a kiss when the dance music stopped.

Pete laughed. I remember that too. My wife never said a word about it. As usual, I think you’re giving me a dose of ‘feel good’ medicine. Frankly, I remember like it was yesterday. Made your Ralph a bit jealous, huh?

Teasing, she replied, You just want to hear me say it again. For sure, he was jealous.

"Good thing you kept it a secret about our make-out sessions in your little red Honda Civic. Somewhere in my desk I’ve got a picture of us leaning on that car at Beacon Beach. You should see it, me towering over you. You were so cute and funny. I always wanted a little more and you always kept me in line. I couldn’t help it. You were seventeen and sizzling!"

She giggled. You’re a big flirt! What is it about middle-aged men? You all have selective memories, and it’s always connected to the physical stuff. C’mon Pete, we didn’t do much! You did love to snuggle. You’d put your head on my lap at the beach, and I’d ruffle that adorable thick hair of yours and…and you purred. Okay, now we’d better get off the subject.

Terry, if I close my eyes I can still picture us together.

Remember when you asked me if I’d ever given myself away. She inquired.

Pete winced at the thought of her mentioning such a thing.

I really did that? Pete replied incredulously, You’d better refresh my memory.

"It happened at the Lakeland Diner the night before I left for Penn State. I might have been embarrassed, but I looked you straight in the eye and shook