It had been the roughest year of his life. His best friend, Eli, had recently died in a tugboat accident. But worst of all, he and Shirley had lost their only child, Susan, during a home invasion just six months ago. The pain was still so raw that he refused to talk about it, and he hoped no one would bring it up that evening.

Shirley tugged at the old-fashioned floral print dress she’d recently purchased just for the occasion. She’d accessorized with a single strand of fresh water pearls, an anniversary gift from Burgess. “I know this’ll be hard; the first reunion without Eli.”

Burgess shook his head. “We could have not gone, but he wouldn’t have wanted that. Plus, how many more reunions will any of us have? I wonder.”

“You’re doing the right thing. We need to get out of this house.”

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to their old high school, now a worn brick building situated next to a homeless shelter, where a group of residents stood outside, smoking cigarettes and guzzling beer. When a young man in rumpled clothes threw a profanity in their direction, Burgess bristled, tightened his grip on Shirley’s arm, and guided her past the sign that said “Welcome, Class of ’45!”

Inside, the Crystal Coast Band was playing “Sentimental Journey.” Metal tables draped in plastic picnic-themed covers had been neatly arranged inside the cafeteria, complete with mermaid centerpieces.  Two steaming kettles of clam chowder, Burgess’s favorite, rested on hot plates at either end of the nearby buffet table, proudly advertising the town’s seaside culture. Platters of coleslaw, barbecue, and every type of dessert imaginable completed the feast.

So much food, Burgess thought. How times had changed. When he was a boy, during the Great Depression, his family had been thankful for a bowl of potato soup and a homemade biscuit. When times got really bad, his grandmother headed to the ocean with her fishing pole and clamming rake.

As Burgess was eyeing his old friends and missing Eli, someone slapped him on the back. He turned to find Derek Moore at his elbow. Derek, celebrated football quarterback the year their team had won the state championship, was now the town plumber, a man with the gift of gab.

“Burgess. Shirley. Good to see you here. Terrible thing about Eli. I know how close you all were.”

Burgess shook his head, resigned. “You know it, but what can you do? Shirley encouraged me to get out.”

“Are you still at Bogue Isle Seafood?”

“Of course. It’s my home away from home.” And it was. Burgess had been at the wholesale seafood plant since he’d gotten married, nearly fifty years ago. He’d spent the first ten years filleting fish and shucking clams. After twenty years, he’d finally made it to Customer Support Manager. Waiting on customers and handling complaints was his favorite part of the job. Easy-going and affable, he managed to resolve every problem. The business was rated one of the top seafood wholesalers in the state. Burgess figured he’d die there.

“You and Shirley come join me and Lucy,” Derek said.

The group sat in stained plastic chairs and, as if no time had passed at all, he and Derek reminisced about the unforgettable football game where Derek had thrown a long pass and Burgess had run forty yards to score the winning touchdown.

Burgess felt good reliving old times when he’d been young and filled with hopes and aspirations. It hadn’t been his dream to work at a seafood plant. He’d always loved airplanes and had once thought of becoming a pilot, but life had other plans. Soon after high school graduation, he and Shirley had married, and less than a year later they’d welcomed baby Susan into the world. He had needed dependable, steady income, not a pipe dream. Still, working as a seafood wholesaler was a far cry from being a revered pilot.

An hour in, as Burgess was enjoying his second bowl of chowder, he could have sworn that he saw Eli, mingling with classmates. But he’d seen his best friend lowered into the ground only a month ago. He wouldn’t have people calling him crazy, so he hadn’t told anyone, not even Shirley, about hearing Eli’s voice coming out of thin air when he’d been working in the basement, a full week before Eli’s death. Maybe it was only an old wives’ tale, but he’d always heard that hearing someone’s voice out of thin air was a harbinger of death.

Burgess wasn’t as limber as he used to be, and his joints creaked when he climbed from the old Ford station wagon. He helped Shirley through the littered parking lot and into the cafeteria as she dragged her oxygen tank behind her, COPD from too many years of chain-smoking. “Our 60th reunion. Can you believe it?” he asked.

“God willing, we’ll have at least one more,” Shirley said in a weak, labored voice.

Burgess hadn’t mentioned how he’d heard her voice talking to him out of thin air, just like Eli’s. But she’d been in the hospital at the time, so he’d prayed it was only his imagination.

The class of ‘45 had now dwindled to twelve. Derek had been killed in a head-on collision, and Lucy had suffered a heart attack three months later. Death, Burgess thought. It caught up with everyone eventually. But he counted his blessings. He still had his job at the seafood plant, a home that was paid for, and a few good friends, not to mention Shirley, who’d been by his side nearly sixty years. He wouldn’t be morbid like his friend Robert, who dwelled on regrets and bad investment decisions. No. He’d make the most of the time he had and see the beauty in each day.

The Crystal Coast Band played “Till the End of Time,” which had been such a big hit for Perry Como. As classmates gently swayed to the music, Burgess remembered dancing to the same song at his senior prom; he in his brother’s hand-me-down suit, and Shirley in a lime green formal her mother had sewn. He choked back the memory of Shirley sewing Susan’s royal blue gown for her own senior prom.

Shirley squeezed his arm. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Just old ghosts.” How many more reunions would any of them have, he wondered.

Leaning on his cane, Burgess hobbled from the parking lot. Why he attended at all, he didn’t know. He’d lost Shirley one week after their 60th reunion. He’d never told another soul about hearing her voice two weeks before her death. But here he was, one of only five remaining classmates. Gone were the Donald twins, Earl and Dale. Why they kept holding the reunion he wasn’t sure, but he’d convinced himself to get out of the house and see the old gang.

Inside the cafeteria, only two tables had been set up. Even from a distance, Burgess could smell the clam chowder and barbecue. He never tired of the same meal.

He was squinting at the guests, searching for a friendly face, when someone called his name. He turned and came face-to-face with Tammy Briggs, formerly Tammy Lucas, the head cheerleader. Her wavy blonde hair, which had once nearly reached her waist, had turned gray and was now piled high on her head in a twisted knot. Cataracts marred her cornflower blue eyes.

Aging, Burgess thought. It was so cruel.

“Burgess, I saved a seat for you. Can you believe it’s our 70th reunion?” She flashed the same infectious smile at him as she had when he’d scored the winning touchdown back in ‘44.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

They sat together and reminisced as Tammy flipped through her phone, showing him photos of her grandchildren. He nodded and made obligatory comments, but he wasn’t into seeing someone else’s family when he no longer had one of his own. Susan had never had children so he’d been deprived of the joy of grandchildren.

But this wasn’t Tammy’s fault. He wouldn’t make her feel bad, and he certainly wouldn’t tell her how he’d been “relieved” of his duties at Bogue Isle Seafood on his 85th birthday. He was glad that Shirley hadn’t been around to see it. With his failing hearing and eyesight, he’d made errors too big for the company to overlook, the bigwigs had said. For the past few years, he’d sat around flipping TV channels and doing occasional yardwork. He’d tried volunteering at the animal shelter, but people complained about his poor hearing and frequent falls. Not one for self-pity, he’d never imagined that he’d be of no use to anyone.

When the Crystal Coast Band struck up “Swinging on a Star,” Tammy motioned to the dance floor. “What do you say? For old time’s sake?”

Burgess glanced down at his cane and chuckled. “I can barely walk, much less dance.”

She stood. “How many reunions will we have?”

He eyed the dance floor and wondered.

The taxi driver pulled a walker from the trunk. Burgess paid the fare and shuffled toward the old school on unsteady legs. In the distance, he heard children laughing, and for just a moment he thought he saw Susan and Shirley standing on the hill near the old baseball field. Just the overactive imagination of a lonely old man, he figured. He’d be joining them soon enough. It had been ages since he’d heard from any of the old gang.

Inside, the cafeteria was dark except for the candles that burned from a single table draped in a red plastic tablecloth with a dolphin centerpiece. Like old times, Burgess smelled his favorite, clam chowder and barbeque. With no signs of staff or classmates, he sat alone and waited. Gone was the Crystal Coast Band, but “Sentimental Journey” played softly from a nearby radio. His 80th reunion. He wondered what had happened to Tammy Briggs. Death, he figured.

And then he was flooded by memories of bringing baby Susan home that frosty December day nearly 80 years before. He and Shirley had shared so many hopes and dreams for her. He’d never wanted to outlive his friends and family. Who did? With no one to even talk to, he couldn’t tell anyone that he’d heard his own voice just last week talking to him out of thin air. He eyed the front entrance, hoping to see his remaining classmates. He’d be happy with anyone, anyone at all. Surely, he couldn’t be the only one left, could he?

As the song in the background faded, he closed his eyes and wondered.

Nine Lives

by Claire Kahane

. “An engaging memoir of life lived to its fullest...” — Kirkus Reviews, The Magazine, October 1, 2025 In this riveting memoir, Claire Kahane unveils her intimate self-transformations over the course of nine decades. Born in the Great Depression to Jewish immigrants and determined to prove herself a free spirit in a male dominated world, Kahane went on the road, hitchhiking her way into and out of risky adventures and romantic affairs. But what starts out as a "road book" takes a different turn in midlife. In scenes dramatically illustrating the growing influence of psychoanalysis and feminism, she becomes a feminist professor, mother and wife, living out the contradictions she is teaching in the classroom. In later life her story changes tracks again when a visit to Auschwitz compels her to confront her own family history of Holocaust loss and renewal. The memoir ends with a surprising new twist that opens to a hopeful future. “Claire Kahane has written a memoir for our times: an account of a life spent in pursuit of lived experience long before it was permissible for women like Kahane to do just that. Rich and lively, vivid and bold, Nine Lives is bound to reach a wide and responsive readership.” —Vivian Gornick, essayist, critic, and author of numerous memoirs, including Fierce Attachments, The Odd Woman and the City, and Unfinished Business: Notes of a Chronic Re-reader Available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop, and your local independent bookstore. A limited number of signed copies are available from Book Passage, Corte Madera, CA.

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