Page 127 of Happiness for Beginners

“You can’t still be mad about that, can you?”

Of course I could still be mad! They had wronged me! Terribly! I had the right to be mad for eternity, if I wanted to. But that’s when it hit me that I just didn’t want to.

That didn’t let her off the hook, though.

“I’m retroactively mad,” I said. “You snuck to their wedding without telling me! And you didn’t tell me you were coming here, either.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it,” she said.

“Damn straight I wouldn’t have liked it!”

She blew a kiss at me. “Life is messy, darling.”

“But didn’t you know you would see me here?”

“I was betting that you’d chicken out.”

“But I didn’t!”

Grandma GiGi smiled at me like she was very proud and nodded. “That’s right, sweet girl. Be brave. Nothing good ever came from cowering.” Then she spun off into the Tornado, where she literally bumped into an old gentleman in a yellow bow tie, and I watched him take her in his arms and lead her away.

Everybody was dancing. Suddenly, it wasSoul Trainin there. The room wasgetting down. They didn’t need me anymore. My work was done. And just like that, I was ready to go. I waved down Duncan and pointed at my watch. He was in the middle of the floor, rocking it out like a madman, and he held up his hand to say,Five more minutes.

But I shook my head. “I’m going!” I shouted at him. Then I pointed at GiGi. “Catch a ride with GiGi!”

“Okay!” he shouted, and gave the thumbs-up. Then before I could turn away, he shouted, “Hey! Promise me something!”

“What?”

“Never call me anything but D-Dog again!”

I pointed my finger guns at him. “Done!”

He was going to stay. He was living it up at a bar mitzvah full of strangers, and a month ago, I would have found a way to use it against him. But, of course, a month ago, he wouldn’t have even been here with me at all.

I thought about stopping at Dave and Darcy’s table on my way out so they could thank me and tell me how truly magnificent I was, but then I decided I didn’t need to hear it. I hadn’t done it for them, after all. Plus, I liked the idea of disappearing into the night like some party-motivating superhero.

But as I walked away from the dance floor, the music throbbing behind me, I felt that familiar ache of isolation taking over again. Where was I going now? What was I headed back to? The music seemed to fade as the sounds of all those strangers laughing and talking rose. I didn’t belong here, which would have been okay if I’d been able to tell myself there was somewhere else—anywhere else—that I did belong. The rest of the night stretched ahead of me like an isolation chamber. I’d head to the elevator alone, ride it down alone, walk through the lobby and the parking garage alone, drive my car alone back to GiGi’s place, undress in my teenage bedroom alone, and then climb into bed. Alone.

I felt a squeeze in my throat like I might cry. I leaned forward and walked faster toward the exit, bracing against my own future as if it were a cold winter wind. I wanted to get myself out of there before Dave or Darcy caught a glimpse of me in any state other than triumph.

That’s almost how I remember it: a bright warm party with a crowd on the dance floor united by the disco ball and the DJ—and me, walking away from it, as I always seemed to walk away from everything that could offer comfort or joy or belonging. I know I was wearing a pink party dress in the moment, but in my memory, as I fled the room, it’s like an image superimposed from some other scene: a girl in a threadbare winter coat and scarf, cradling her arms for warmth, pushing through a swirling blizzard, head down and chilled through. It was time to pick myself up again. It was time to promise myself that I’d wake up in the morning and put my life back together—better and stronger this time, wiser for all the struggle. It was time, again, to stare the future down and sayBring it on.

But I couldn’t. It felt like I’d been pushing my way through this same endless blizzard my whole life. And now, at last, I was too damned cold and too tired to go on.

But I did go on, of course. I kept my eyes on the floor and wove my way around tables and party guests. The exit wasn’t that far. Maybe I’d feel better once I’d made it out of the room.

Before I could, though, I ran smack into someone’s chest with a muffledthump. It could easily have been a grandpa on a walker or a seventh grader with food in his braces, but it wasn’t. It was Jake.

My Jake. The Jake who had gone to Colorado. With his Windy.

I froze. There he was again, in his cool glasses, all clean-shaven. He wore an oxford shirt and a skinny hipster tie. I’d never seen him in a tie, not even at my wedding, and he looked put-together and grown-up. And handsomer than I remembered, which was overkill, really, because his plain-old regular handsome was more than enough.

After colliding with his chest, I stepped back fast, almost as if I’d bounced off, and he caught my shoulders with his hands. And I swear: That’s when the blizzard stopped. The gray sky cleared in an instant to a crisp midnight blue and the blustery wind slowed to stillness. In reality, there must have been dance music blaring all around us. But I don’t remember a sound.

The two of us stood frozen like that for a second, eyes locked on each other. My brain was spinning. There were so many reasons he couldn’t possibly be standing there.

At last, he gave a little smile. “Hey, Holdup.”

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