There they are — the last of them have arrived.
From my car, I watch everyone gathering at the pavilion.
Aaron and Daryl are manning the grills, drinking beer, and talking. I can see them laughing. It looks like nothing has changed. I bet they still make those terrible jokes that only they find funny.
Mark and Lisa are the last to arrive.
And it's him I've been waiting for.
After all these years, Lisa still looks good, but even from this distance, I can see she's dependent on Mark. Even with family around, she doesn't leave his side.
He changed her.
She's now exactly what he wants.
I grew up with Lisa, I still remember the feisty girl she used to be. Her Father, Uncle Max was a family friend.
Uncle Max died four years ago, It was cancer.
It's funny that after fifteen years, I still recognize every one of the adults. The kids, of course, I've never met.
I bet when I walk up to them, nobody will recognize me.
The last time they saw me — fifteen years ago — I was a very different person.
Back then, I was a skinny, nerdy guy: glasses, a neat haircut, always looking proper.
But fairly popular, because I was a people person.
At least... I was.
I sometimes wonder how much of that person is left.
I had a good life and good prospects...
Until the nightmare began.
I can still remember the day.
To set an example, they chose maximum exposure, maximum humiliation.
I was at a basketball game.
My college team was playing.
I didn't play, but I was there to support them — when suddenly, Uncle Max walked in.
He headed straight for me... and started punching.
It was chaos.
People pried him off me, and the police were called.
Uncle Max kept yelling that I raped Lisa.
I was too stunned to react, and my face was hurting — Uncle Max knew how to fight.
The police came, and to my astonishment, I was arrested.
Uncle Max spent a few days in jail because of the assault, but me?
I didn't see a day of freedom...
Until they released me six months ago.
I didn't do it.
I never touched her.
But nobody believed me. Especially when Lisa testified that it was me.
But that doesn't matter now.
The man — the nineteen-year-old kid — who went to prison fifteen years ago...
Is not the man who walked out six months ago.
I'm going to wait a bit longer.
Till the food is ready.
They haven't seen me in fifteen years.
And I wasn't invited.
So this is not going to be a pleasant reunion.