Chapter Text
Marcia is tempted to throw the invite out when she gets it. It’s been ten years since Cherry would’ve graduated, and eleven since she left to start her life in New York.
It’s been eight years since she moved out from her aunt’s house, and one since she moved back after the death of Nikki’s husband.
Now, it’s just them, and Marcia doesn’t think of Tulsa. She doesn’t think of Tulsa when she’s in one of those cramped bars with the walls pressing in on her, bodies surrounding her and a red-haired girl is dancing in front of her. She doesn’t think of Tulsa on nights when she can almost fool herself into thinking it’s quiet.
She doesn’t think of Tulsa because it’s behind her.
She pretends she’s spent her whole life in this cramped house in one of the decent parts of New York, with a journalist for an aunt. She’d grown up in the underfunded district never knowing much more but the small rooms and sink coming off the wall.
She’d grown up knowing her way around the subway system and the city. She’d grown up in New York and she knows nothing more of Tulsa than the couple stories that ever made it past the bounds of Oklahoma.
But it’s all make-believe.
She can never forget those muggy nights in the woods right on the boundary of town, curled up next to Cherry watching their letters burn.
When she had first sent that letter, she hadn’t been expecting anything. Not a call or for Cherry to come to New York or even a return letter.
But it had still hurt when there was silence.
So, she locked it away and she ignored any mention of Oklahoma.
Which is difficult because the state (and more specifically her little town) tends to curl around her brain, darkening the edges before snatching it up in a death grip.
And it hurts every time.
But she pushes it down and swallows the smoke and liquor that hangs heavy in the air as a girl with red hair dances in front of her and it’s not Cherry and it’s not a replacement for Cherry and that’s ridiculous, she hasn’t thought of Cherry in years!
She gets the letter, and she almost sticks it right in the trash.
She’s not going to a stupid high school reunion; she shouldn’t have even been invited. High school reunions are for graduated people who stayed on their side of town and had kids. People who dream of their old lives before any of that, while they gather around and talk around a refreshments table that has wine instead of punch.
She doesn’t want to hear age-old gossip. Half of it’ll have been about her, anyway.
Her mother would have had her problem broadcasted around town before she’d even gotten over the Oklahoma state line.
So, she steadfastly ignores the invitation. She should’ve known Cherry would find a way to invite her.
Sent out the letter and hoped Marcia hadn’t moved since that night all those years ago.
Nikki stopped writing.
It hardly registers in Marcia’s mind until Nikki is leaning back in her chair so far, she’s in danger of falling.
“Hello?” she asks, walking by and getting herself a glass of water from the tap.
“What’s going on with you?” Nikki asks with that prying tone every journalist has.
She shrugs, carefully schooling her expression as to not appear concerned.
She should’ve known Nikki would see through it.
After another round of prying questions, Marcia finally sighs in defeat. “I got an invitation to my high school reunion.”
Nikki grins triumphantly. “Who sent it, then? Your girl from back home?”
Marcia’s cheeks light up bright red. “She is not my girl.”
Nikki shrugs as if she couldn’t even begin to believe Marcia. “I just assumed, with how you talk about her.”
Marcia rolls her eyes, but Nikki doesn’t drop it. “When are you heading out, then?”
After a couple seconds of choked sputtering, Marcia glares a little. “Wait ‘til I’m done taking a sip of water next time, will ya? I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
Marcia raises an eyebrow. Not as effortlessly as she’s sure that boy she met, Two-Bit, could, but pretty easily. “What do ya mean why not? I don’t wanna go.”
“I think you’re lying.” Nikki says gravely.
“I ain’t a liar!” Marcia snaps before taking a breath. “Sorry. I ain’t a liar. I just don’t wanna go. I don’t know anyone there anymore and they sure as hell don’t know me.”
Nikki shrugs. “So get to know ‘em.”
Marcia scowls. “I ain’t goin’. That’s final.”
Marcia is on a train to Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Not by choice.
Nikki had bought her a train ticket and called her off work for a week after packing her bags, so she really didn’t have a choice in the matter.
It did nothing but make her want to kill the older woman.
The landscapes outside seem to be moving impossibly fast, but maybe it’s just the sense of impending doom creeping up on her.
What would she find when she got to Tulsa?
A ghost town? A bustling city? The people she grew up with? Would the East side and the West side still be there?
She had no idea what Tulsa would look like in 1978.
What she did know, it’s scaring the shit out of her.
She’s set up in a nice hotel, courtesy of Nikki’s company credit card. (Thankfully, she’d gotten permission to use it, or else she’d have to find some other, less nice, shelter.)
Now, all she’s got to do is ride out the couple days before the reunion is meant to happen.
Which is easier said than done.
For one, she needs food. Quite desperately actually. For all the time she and Nikki may have struggled, she’s never known what it’s like to be actually hungry.
And for two, she’s getting sick of the hotel room. And she’s only been here for a couple hours.
But there’s only so much mediocre daytime television a person can take.
She’s just about reached her limit.
She needs something to do.
Maybe she’d go out and see if that bookstore she used to spend a bunch of time at is still open. Or she’d head to the library and see how they’ve improved their fantasy collection.
Maybe she’d finally get around to reading one of those books that Ponyboy published.
She remembered how that had rocked her to her core, seeing him spelling out everything that had happened during that week clear as day. And he hadn’t stopped, just steamrolling his way to a spot as a beloved author.
But then again, she didn’t need any more reminders of Tulsa. She’s already in the stupid place.
Maybe she’d head to a diner?
Yes, that sounds perfectly acceptable.
She’d go to a diner and maybe explore a little bit, see what all has changed since the last time she was here.
After slipping on a less pajamas-esque outfit and sneakers, she makes her way down to the ground floor and starts walking. She’s not sure if the diners she used to frequent are still around, but she does know where most of them used to be.
She’s almost relieved, when she spots Rusty’s. The old joint is still open and, apparently still pretty popular.
She spots multiple people she can almost just see her old friends in, though the lack of the over-styled hair and thick cosmetics makes it hard to recognize most of them.
She keeps it simple, ordering a Coke and a chicken tender basket.
She keeps her eyes trained on the door (a habit she picked up from Nikki), ready to get up and leave if anyone comes up and tries talking to her about anything.
She should want to reconnect with the people she knew her entire life, but frankly, she can’t bring herself to care.
God knows she doesn’t want to have to answer the questions that had undoubtedly been raised in the wake of her absence.
The habit of watching the door is what first alerts her to Cherry’s arrival.
She’d been looking in every car that pulled up, and she’d spotted Cherry’s very familiar face in the passenger seat of a big, plainly colored car.
Seems that she’d traded out her red Stingray for a station wagon.
She stops paying attention to Cherry, unwilling to confront the still-present sting of abandonment. (It doesn’t even make sense. After all, Cherry isn’t the one who moved off to New York.)
She ignores Cherry until a tiny bell dings, and Marcia finally looks up.
In the doorway to Rusty’s, she can finally see Cherry in all her glory...
Followed closely behind by her husband and two kids.