BitterWeena (c) 2002-2005

Jason and I sat on his bed, eating ice cream. All week long, the promos on ET promised a must-see story about Jeremy Love’s high school reunion. All week long, a blurred woman yelled from a crowd her opinion of his work as an offer to entice viewers for the segment.

I was famous, in a blurred way. I know Maree and Manni will never let me live this down. It was decided by Jason we’d have to watch it on his television, since his had a bigger screen, higher definition, and more ability to showcase my embarrassment.

We ate in silence until finally, towards the end of the show, the piece came on. Hours of pain and humiliation became compressed into two minutes of Jeremy Love telling the camera how he felt being back at high school. I scanned the backgrounds for familiar faces until they showed that famous shot of heckling. For the first time, I watched the televised Jason standing next to my blurred self and noticed the momentary surprise on his face before it transformed into a grin. As they emphasized that moment of mortification with special cutting and editing, I watched Jason slowly put his arm around my shoulder, grinning away like a madman.

I briefly glanced at the Jason sitting next to me as he watched the television, smiling. I didn’t remember him putting his arm around me during that moment. I remembered the faces of horror, but never the supportive embrace.

Inwardly, I shrugged and returned to the ‘news’.

As a final commentary, Jeremy Love spoke directly to the camera. “I think it’s been good,” he said. I rolled my eyes. “I’ve caught up with my family and friends, seen the old neighbourhood, and, I guess most importantly, put the past to rest.”

“Amen, brother,” I said as the perky presenters made their final crack about me, then said their goodbyes for yet another day of entertaining news.

“At least until your twentieth year reunion,” Jason said.

I shot him a look, only to be greeted back with Tweety grinning from ear to ear. In one swift motion, I grabbed the pillow beside me and thwacked Tweety right in the face, finally doing what I’ve wanted to do for ages. Sylvester eat your heart out.

The end.