Page 38 of One for the Road
SPARKLING: an effervescent beverage
“This is cray cray.”I dab the corners of my eyes with one of the little handkerchiefs Roxanne gave out to all her bridesmaids. “Roxy and Cole, married at last.”
The wedding countdown is over. One of my best friends became a wife today.
I have an arm around Monroe’s shoulders, while Kay, another bridesmaid, is patting her on the head. Monroe has been sobbing into her handkerchief for a while now. The three of us are standing on the edge of the dance floor in our matching emerald green dresses with wreaths of leaves in our hair, watching Cole spin Roxanne around to their wedding song.
Cole is the bassist in a rock band famous enough that there are body guards here today, and the other band members are up on stage playing ‘Read My Mind’ by The Killers.
“I’m j-just s-so happy for h-her,” Monroe stutters while she cries.
I squeeze her in tighter to me. “Je sais, ma belle. I know.”
Roxanne looks more like a model than ever. Her dress has a beaded top with pretty little lace cap sleeves, and when she twirls out to the end of Cole’s arm, the layer of gold under the white skirt catches the light and makes her glow like the sunrise.
Still, it’s hard to even notice her dress when she’s smiling at Cole. He leans in to whisper something in her ear, and I swear she could light the whole city up tonight. The two of them look at each other like they’re finally standing on top of a mountain they’ve spent their whole lives climbing up.
I whip out my handkerchief again and take a deep breath. I’m going to be sobbing like Monroe if this dance doesn’t end soon.
The last note is fading and people have started to applaud when I see him across the room.
I knew he was here, but I was so busy with bridesmaid stuff I didn’t talk to anyone but the wedding party before the ceremony. I thought I spotted him at his table during dinner, but I made a point of not looking that way again. I didn’t want our eyes to lock. I didn’t want to know what I’d see when they did.
It’s been over two weeks of this. Over two weeks of awkward hellos and weird silences at work. Every time I see him, I take a deep breath like I’m about to say something, but I never do. It always gets stuck in my throat. I want to fix whatever we broke. I want to pull him closer, but I’m scared anything I try will just push him away.
It’s like watching somebody fall through the ice in the middle of a lake: you run out to save them, but the closer you get, the thinner the ice becomes, and you have no choice but to slow down and back away.
I don’t want to back away when I see him watching me from across the dance floor.
I want to run towards him so fast my arms and legs turn into spinning wheels like I’m in a cartoon. I want to tackle him to the floor and tell him over and over again how much I miss him. I want to feel his arms around me and hear him telling me everything is going to be all right.
He looks so handsome tonight. His hair is combed back, and his beard is trimmed short enough to have that sexy stubble look. He’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt and bright pink tie. I know he can’t have picked it to match my hair; we’re not even talking, and it’s the kind of dorky thing Zach would wear on his own anyway, but a lump still forms in my throat when I realize it’s just the right colour.
I’m still propping Monroe up, and Zach looks like he’s in the middle of a conversation with some guy beside him, but everything else goes blurry and muted as we watch each other.
He looks like he’s in pain. He looks like he’s aching, and I want to tell him I am too. I want to get down on my knees if that’s what it will take and just beg him to let us fix this, beg him to let this go back to the way it was.
If we could just pretend the past few weeks never happened, I could stop imagining. I could stop dreaming. I could stopwanting. I want him so much. I want my friend back so much it hurts, but then I look at him, and my fingers are trembling to touch him. I don’t know how to have both those things, and somehow I’ve ended up with neither.
“DeeDee?”
“Huh?” It feels like my head turns in slow motion when I look back at Kay.
“I asked if you wanted champagne.”
Monroe is drying her eyes while Kay lifts two champagne glasses off the tray of the waiter beside her. I didn’t even notice him show up.
“Oh. Yeah. Champagne sounds good.”
Booze in general sounds good.
I take a glass from Kay, and she grabs a third for Monroe. The three of us cheers to the happy couple. I down my glass in two sips.
Kay wags her eyebrows at me. “Ready to party, eh?”
I nod. “Always.”
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