A friend of mine on Facebook recently watched The Breakfast Club for the first time. The following day, he asked on Facebook “So what happens to everyone on Monday morning?”
This was my answer.
On Monday morning, life went back to normal. Each one of them would silently acknowledge the other ones in the hallways. They had changed, but their world hadn’t. Eventually, they fell back into their old cliques and old habits, until finally, even the silent acknowledgements went by the wayside.
Over the years, they’d lose touch with each other. College, love, life took them out of each others worlds.
Days, weeks, months, years, decades would pass. Facebook comes around.
The Jock, no longer a jock, but a middle manager for a construction company in Omaha would realize just how bored he was with his life. When was the last time he actually felt something? When was the last time he was actually alive? When was the last time he cared? That Saturday in high school, with the Basket Case. At lunch, out of curiosity, he looks her up.
The Basket Case would turn up in San Fransisco where she lived as a semi-successful artist. She’d been a big deal in the nineties. Acclaim, shows and lovers accompanied her throughout the decade. Now, things were starting to dry up. Men and women no longer found her as attractive or interesting as they did. Her art wasn’t as cutting edge as it used to be. Her time was passing her by. One night, at an outdoor wine bar, she thought of a life that she could have had. What if she had just married a boy and had kids? She thought about her envy of the Princess. She typed her name into the search bar.
The Princess is in New York City, on her own for the first time since 1988. She divorced her rich husband after years of his infidelity. She’s not close to her grown kids. She does yoga, and Pilates and volunteer work, but she’s unfulfilled. What’s the point of any of this? Sure, she had the right address, and the right clothes, and the right friends, but for what? She sips her coffee and looks out over Central Park. Her mind goes back to the last time she didn’t have the right thing. On a whim, she searches for him.
The Criminal has finally made a decent name for himself. He owns a well-regarded food truck in Austin and plays guitar for a better-than-average bar band. He’s common-law married to a sweet girl 15 years his junior. He’d spent a good portion of the years in and out of jail and rehab. The last rehab trip finally taking in 2007. He’s not angry anymore. He just was. He finishes his last cigarette of the day. He thinks about that Saturday again. Quietly, he pulls out his old Lenovo laptop and searches for him.
The Nerd lived up to his full potential. He owned a tech company in Boise, Idaho. He was married to a beautiful woman, with 5 grown kids and 3 dogs. He filled out after high school. He graduated top of his class from UCLA, then the University of Texas then MIT. Life couldn’t have gone more to plan. But, he still feels like something is missing. There’s a part of himself that he hasn’t acknowledged in years. A part that he’d never been able to put his finger on.
Ping. Friend request from the Criminal.
Life would continue in much the same way for the five of them. They’d have ups and downs, but now they had a protected, secret Facebook group. They had each other. The Breakfast Club lived on.
It occurs to me now, that I’ve essentially written a Facebook commercial.
You’re welcome Facebook.