“Let’s give it up for the Maid of Honor Fern Novotny and Best Man Gabe Wolkowski!”
The door swung open, and the room burst into applause as we both stood there like a deer in the headlights. I wish I could say we busted a move, or she did a run and I lifted her into the air just like Baby and Johnny in Dirty Dancing. Yeah, that would’ve been great.
But negative. She bolted from me, as if I was herpes sliding toward her, to the empty chair next to scuzzball Brandon. I was left alone in the spotlight. Yup, the big old goof all alone. People started clapping so I did a quick little Macarena that went over surprisingly well before heading straight to the bar in the back of the room. The mother ship was calling me home.
I wanted to be numb. Needed to be numb. From the throbbing pain in my head, to the feeling of being beaten by a spiked baton every time I saw her, I needed something.
I stood in line for ten minutes after the rest of the wedding party danced their way in, along with the bride and groom.
The bartender’s smile was annoying. “What’ll you have?”
“You got a long extension cord and a bathtub?” Did I say that out loud?
“Excuse me?
“Give me the bottle of Jack.” I knew I said that aloud.
“I can’t give you the bottle.” He seemed as confused as I felt.
I grabbed my wallet and fished out a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. “I said give me the fucking bottle.”
He plucked the cash from my hand and put a bottle in front of me. I took a few steps, sliding my friend along with me. Once at the corner of the long bar, I ran my finger over the white letters on the black label of the only thing that might be able to get me through the night from Hell while I assessed my options.
I could leave. I could sit in a chair like a normal human for thirty minutes, get through the formalities of a wedding, hit the road, and never hear her voice again. I’d never touch or taste her for all of eternity. The memory of chemistry and sparks would haunt me forever.
Or I could hit up Jack and get to the point where I feel nothing. Sure, there was a chance I’d rearrange the reception furniture as I beat Brandon senseless with a chair, but it was an option.
I let out the breath I wasn’t aware I was holding and stared at the bottle…my old friend. After several long moments, I pushed it away. This wasn’t the way to deal anymore. She’d shown me that I could be strong. I didn’t know how to do this so I was going minute-by-minute.
I turned to see Dave standing at the other end of the bar, watching me. I wanted to say anything I could to cut him. Why should I be the only one suffering? But instead, I handed the bottle to a confused wedding guest in the drink line and walked away to find a seat at a table by the dance floor.
I steered clear of the wedding party and nursed a pathetic glass of water I didn’t want. After dinner, the dance floor burst to life with everything from the YMCA and Apple Bottom Jeans to Morgan Wallen and Taylor while my eyes were on the clock.
Every time I got a view of Fern, she was too close, and I needed to be farther away. We were an hour into the reception, and I figured it was time for me to fly.
The music paused as a college-aged dude with a man bun took to the mic. “We want to congratulate Tawnee and Ed!” Cheers and glass clinks resulted in Ed kissing his bride. “Let’s slow things down a little.”
Journey’s Faithfully rang through the speakers, making me want to walk into moving traffic blindfolded.
“Is this night ever going to end?” I rested my elbows on the table. “And the Faithfully song is on?” I started a sad song of my own. “It’s beginning to look a lot like fuck this.” I raised my glass of Pepsi to Brandon, “in loving memory of when I gave a shit about anything.”
“Well, aren’t you just a little lollipop triple-dipped in psycho.”
I let out a huff. “Yes, I’m just an awkward foul-mouthed sarcastic delight tonight.”
Brandon leaned in closer. “Have we been here long enough?”
“Maybe?” I looked over my shoulder before my stomach jerked so hard, I became nauseous. Gabe was across the dance floor seated at a table with Ed. While Ed was chatting away, Gabe was brooding as he stared at me.
I jumped at Brandon’s voice. “I don’t think he’s going to leave you alone. He thinks he can get you whenever he wants.”
While I wanted a strong voice, it came out in a broken whisper. “I need this to be done. I love him, and I need to never see him again.” That was a sentence I never imagined coming out of my mouth. He squeezed my hand.
“You’re sure? You’re ready to blow this thing up forever?”
I swear I was blinking in Morse code, trying to restrain the tears. “I’m sure.”
He nodded, stood, took my hand, and led me to the dance floor. He held me close as we swayed silently. Without looking, I could feel Gabe’s eyes burning into me, and it wasn’t fair. When did I become such a wussy woman wearing blinders? I was planning on some kind of future while he was planning which weekend he would be tapping the chick in the blue dress.
