Charlotte loved spiders so long as they did not touch her. The spiders ate other bugs that would otherwise pester her. The webs could be creepy at times, but they would also be beautiful in the right lighting and weather. The intricacy of each web and the designs fascinated her to no end. The only thing about spiders she did not particularly like was being called one at school. The other kids called her a spider ever since the class read “Charlotte’s Web” and would tease her about dying to save a pig.
Another kid who recently joined the class had unfortunately been named Wilber and had been nicknamed “pig” because of it. The fact that he still had some baby fat on him did not do him any favors. Charlotte and Wilber were often paired together when groups were picked. The other kids did everything they could to ensure it. If the teasing would stop the two would not have such a big problem with it. The two got along when the other kids were not watching. When they were watching, Wilber and Charlotte pretended to ignore each other. That had been the case all throughout elementary school.
It was a school reunion, twenty years later, that Charlotte met Wilber again. The other kids, now adults with kids of their own at home, acted as if happy to see her but did point out Wilber as soon as they realized who she was. “You must talk to Wilber,” they insisted. She humored them, wanting to know what had become of her fellow classmate teased about a children’s book. She did not recognize him at first. He had grown, built muscle, and reinvented himself. His eyes lit up when he saw her.
“Charlotte!” he exclaimed as he pulled her into a crushing hug, “I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?”
“I’ve been good,” she replied and told him about how she became a publisher, married a man four years ago and now had two children.
“I’m happy for you,” he told her with an honest smile. He told her about his company that he owned fixing cars and occasionally still worked the physical labor for as a mechanic when he had the spare time. He was married with a wife and a daughter of his own, who he had named Charlotte. Charlotte grinned when he told her that.
“I’ve always thought your name was pretty,” Wilber confessed. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Charlotte replied. “I am honored.”
The two continued to converse, ignoring the onlookers around them.