Page 11 of Still the One

“Come on, darling.” Alan has waltzed up to me again and takes my hands. He twirls me around and, as I spin on my toes, I see Charles and Jamie make a tentative foray onto the dance floor. In our twenties, Jamie, Alan, and I spent endless nights in gay clubs, dancing until dawn. Sandra was often there as well. This reunion is a reminder of those happy times, a nostalgic trip down memory lane in more ways than one. After the break-up, Sandra and I still went dancing from time to time, but my friendship with Alan fizzled out, and I never wanted to see Jamie again. That we’re all here tonight is mind-boggling.

Alan smoothly guides us closer to Charles and Jamie. Charles dances like a straight man, all awkward limbs and off the beat, which hardly makes him stand out at a wedding. Jamie’s very different. She was always so much cooler than me, than anyone else I knew. She has this way of dancing that doesn’t really look like dancing but still belongs on the dance floor. She’s taken off her tux jacket and the stark white shirt she’s wearing contrasts beautifully with the darkness of her hair and eyes. Maybe it’s ancient muscle memory, or maybe it’s something else, but I gravitate toward her. I can’t help myself. We made so many ecstatic memories on dance floors together. Right now, because of the circumstances and the music and the joy around me, I can put the past twenty years aside, and just enjoy being here with her and Alan and Charles. It’s a special moment that can possibly only exist in the magic bubble of this dance floor, with the right kind of music in my ears, and the blissful vibes of Sandra and Tyrone’s wedding around me. But the fact that this moment even exists, that, for a few minutes, maybe only for the duration of this song, I can forget what she did to me, the pain she put me through—the years of doubts about myself and the blow to my self-esteem—is nothing short of a miracle.

I smile at Jamie, and she smiles back. She has the kind of smile that lights up the darkest room. When I look into her eyes, I remember the countless reasons why I fell for her so hard. Why the prospect of marrying her and having a family together filled my heart with so much joy. Jamie and I always made such sense together, but it was more than that. When I was with her, I was free of doubts, free of second-guessing anything, because when I looked at her, I always knew that Jamie was my person. I trusted her completely. Even when we met Cherry and the three of us hit it off, like you sometimes do with someone you meet. Even when we started spending more time together, all I thought was what a great friendship the three of us had.

What a fool I was.

What a fool they made of me.

What a fool Jamie made of that great love of ours.

Then the reason I haven’t been near her for twenty years hits me again like a ton of bricks. Why we haven’t danced the night away together again. Why we never had a conversation ever again.

But I’m not leaving the dance floor to sulk in my chair. That’s not why I came to Sandra’s wedding. I came here despite knowing she’d be here. Despite knowing, although perhaps not fully wanting to recognize it, that it would do something to me. That I wouldn’t be immune to seeing her again. That despite hating her, part of me will probably always love her a little as well. It’s only for a couple of days. Then we’ll go our separate ways. I might see Alan and Charles again although I can’t be certain. So many promises are made at events like this that are never kept. Things are said simply because they are things you say. Alan’s admiration of Isabel Adler is very real, though, and I sense he’s not going to let his connection to her, via me, go anytime soon.

The music slows. The mood changes. The DJ puts on a slow song. Alan and Charles fall into each other’s arms, as do most couples around us.

I look at Jamie.

She tilts her head. “Shall we?” She holds out her hands to me.

Oh. She’s asking me to dance. I don’t have time to think. I mean, I do. I can say no, but I don’t. I owe her an apology, anyway, for my behavior this morning.

I nod and step closer. Finding a position for our hands is awkward. Mine end up on her sides while hers rest on my shoulders. With that wide gap between our hips, we must look like two shy teenagers dancing to their first slow song.

“Hey,” she says. “You can still tear up the floor, then.”

“Can you tell I haven’t been out in ages?”

“Absolutely not.” As we come back from a sway backward, she moves her hips a little closer to mine. “You look stunning,” Jamie says.

I chuckle weirdly because I don’t know how to react.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” I’m acutely aware of her hands on my shoulders, her fingertips against my skin. “I was a bit harsh. I didn’t mean to be.”

“As I said.” Jamie inches her head closer to my ear. “You never have to apologize to me.” A pause. “Ever.”

“It’s just that, how I was this morning, that’s not who I really am. It’s not how I had intended to be with you.” I had grand plans of being all gracious about the whole thing, but I guess those went out of the window the instant I saw her again. “It’s not that I don’t care, but I’ve had to find ways to move on. To forget you. None of those involved much kindness toward you.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to apologize. It was stupid. I’m sorry. Gosh. Now, I’m doing it again.”

We might only have the presence of mind to mumble a few words to each other, but our feet move in seamless harmony, and our bodies inch closer together with every note of the song. As though our bodies remember something we can’t allow our minds to.

“Let’s just forget about apologies,” I offer. “I’m curious… about you. About your life.”

I know things didn’t work out between her and Cherry. That it all fizzled out without much of a bang. I’ve never been able to decide whether that made me gleeful or sad. Is it better to get dumped for a great love—for a proper reason, for something inevitable—than for a flash in the pan? Two decades later, I still don’t have the answer to that.

“You know me. I just love to bake.”

“I’ve never bought anything Sully’s Sourdough-related since then. I suppose I’ve been missing out.”

Jamie tilts her upper body backward a little and looks at me with a smile on her face. “I couldn’t watch the first Olympics you presented, but I did get over that. I had four years in between, so I had time to adapt.”

How did she feel when she saw me on TV the first time? Nostalgic? Regretful?

We dance in silence for a few beats. I take the time to process some of the things that have been said. The song ends and another slow one starts. Jamie doesn’t let go of me, and I don’t let go of her.

“It’s such a head fuck seeing you again, Mac,” Jamie says after a while.

---