by T. Rudacille
***
I walked in between Rachel and Joe, my arms linked with one of theirs.
“This is our date, and no one had better insinuate that any funny business is going on with the three of us!” Joe was saying loudly as yet another group gawked at us, surely believing that we were joining the large collection of individuals who were forming bisexual, polyamorous groups, in which everyone, men and women, dated and had sex with one another.
“We are good and wholesome twenty-somethings, even though Rachel and I are thirty!”
“Stop!” I exclaimed through my hysterical laughter.
“We are a threesome, but we are not having a threesome! Not unless legal documents are signed and burning romantic desire takes hold of the three of us this night, when we celebrate the marital bliss of the Double T’s!”
“Oh my God!” Rachel exclaimed, her legs crossing together as she walked. “You are going to make me pee my pants!”
“Those are pants?” Joe leaned in and muttered conspiratorially to me, “Looks like a dress to me, so she’s probably been drinking and is a little confused. We might have to keep an eye on her.”
“Shut up, Joseph!” Rachel reached over and whacked him in the back of the head as we both continued to laugh. “I do not want to have to walk all the way back to the house to change. Not to mention, I know you two imbeciles will never let me live it down if I pee right now!”
“We will not, but I will carry you swiftly to our home so no one else knows. That way the ridicule will only be two-fold, not two-thousand fold.”
“Oh, that is so chivalrous. Thank you.” They kissed over top of my head, and I frowned at both of them.
“Why do you two have to be of a height that most athletes would envy? You make me feel like a garden gnome down here!”
“Well, you are the most beautiful garden gnome I have ever seen in my entire life, so you just stop that insecure babble right now.” Joe told me as we all waved to the Jalali’s, a family of four from Iran.
“Hello!” The father greeted us cheerfully. His two young children took off running into the large, billowing white tent where the ceremony was being held. “Goodbye!”
We all laughed as he and his wife ran after the children.
“Penny!” I called, and she turned around from walking with one of her school friends and came back to me.
“Is it my hair?” She asked, and Rachel and Joe snorted through their noses, failing completely in their attempts not to laugh out loud.
“So it begins.” Rachel told me.
“Do you like my makeup, Rachel?” Penny made a kissing-face at her.
“Oh, you are the most beautiful girl at this wedding, for sure!” Rachel told her.
We stopped walking so I could fix one of her braids, which had come loose from the bobby pin that was keeping it tightly wrapped in a circle and firmly stuck to the back of her head.
“Ow, Brynna!”
“I apologize, Penelope! Run along, miniature Violet Mae.”
“I am not Violet Mae! I am Penelope Sylvia!” Penny told me, and she stuck her tongue out at me jokingly. Of course, I returned the look.
“Oh, here he comes!”
Violet was walking behind me with Alice and Quinn. Nick was coming towards us, beaming brightly, holding a rose, his green eyes glowing in the evening sunlight.
“Oh, it’s like The Bachelor!” Rachel exclaimed, tugging on Joe’s shirt sleeve excitedly. “Look at you, Brad Womack!”
“Who?” Nick asked with a chuckle.
“Never mind. You look good, kid!” She told him, and he gave a little bow, which caused Violet to giggle nearly uncontrollably as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him more passionately than I was comfortable with observing. I looked at Rachel, pulling a face that she mimed.
“The PDA is going to make Brynn burst into flames. Keep it under control, kiddies!” Joe informed them, and Nick and Violet broke apart.
“You look beautiful.” I heard him say to her.
“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed scarlet under the pink blush she had used, and her gleaming, pink-lipped smile grew wider. “So do you.” She laughed, covering her mouth lightly so as not to smear her makeup. “I mean, you look… handsome? That’s a bit outdated. You look debonair.”
“That’s not outdated?!” He asked her, and they both laughed as they walked arm-in-arm. “Either way, I thank you.”
“Stop!” Alice exclaimed to Quinn behind me, “You better dance the night away with me, sir, or you will be sleeping outside. Not in the guest room. Not on the sofa. Outside. Like a puppy who chews the furniture.”
“Oh, man! You know I hate dancing. What if they make us do the Electric Slide?”
“That is when we’ll go get a drink. A strong drink. Come on, you know I hate the Electric Slide. Remember at homecoming how we sent Ty up to sabotage the DJ when he turned it on?”
“Oh my God! I had totally forgotten about that! Good thing he DJ-ed all those events at your church, or else he never would have been able to spare us the pain of the Electric Slide.”
“And the Locomotion.”
“And the Chicken Dance.”
“God, our school was lame.”
“I know!”
I heard them kiss behind me, watched as Nick and Violet kissed again, and saw that even Penny seemed to have a date: she and Idan were walking arm-in-arm, waving to people as though in a parade. Clearly, they were mimicking the adults they saw walking linked together.
But if Idan was near, then that meant…”
“By the one God, you are a vision in black, Brynna Olivier.”
As usual, his sudden appearance startled me to a point that I jumped and whipped around. Besides the fact that he was sneakier than a crouching, ready-to-pounce-on-prey lion, my newly diagnosed PTSD was also to blame for my jitteriness.
“I must start approaching you from the front.” He told me, and Rachel and Joe moved away from us discreetly, both grinning. For some reason, they loved to speculate that Adam and I were secretly a couple, despite their vast love of James.
“And you are a vision in your black suit, Adam Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is.”
“You truly do not know my surname? How interesting…”
He extended his arm to me, and I took it, rolling my eyes slightly.
“You will provoke many stares this evening. I hope you are prepared for it. My ancient heart nearly stopped at the sight of you.”
“You are exaggerating shamelessly.”
“I most certainly am not! Your beauty has always astounded me, and I always thought you perfect, but tonight…” He looked at me as we walked, “You are far beyond perfect.”
“As if I am the prettiest person here. Look, there is Michelle, who everyone says is the living embodiment of Aphrodite. She also allegedly enjoys having wild, frivolous intercourse much like Circe.”
Adam actually laughed loudly at that, causing many curious glances to come our way. Upon finding that Adam and I were walking together arm-in-arm, the curious glances turned to ravenous stares; those people were hungry for new gossip always, and those urges to spread exciting news before anyone else could spread it first were being fed by the sight of Adam and me together.
“Well, she does not possess the wit and wisdom of Athena, or the maternal nature of Artemis, or, when necessary, the shrewd cunning of Hera.”
“Are you attempting to insinuate that my mind is more important to you than my looks? Are you attempting to convey that it is what is on the inside that counts more so than what is on the outside? That is perhaps the most trite lesson ever taught.”
“It is, so luckily that is not what I was saying.” He replied, “I am saying you are all of them, my dear. You are above them. Do you think that I give the affectionate name ‘my beauty’ to just anyone?”
“I am sure that you have given it to Janna.”
“Certainly not! Are you mad, woman? Her I call ‘my bane.’”
I
covered my mouth as I chuckled, realizing that we had reached the front row, where I would be sitting with Penny, Violet, Nick, Quinn, Alice, Rachel, and Joe.
“Things have been strained between us since you learnt of my marriage to Janna. I do apologize for deceiving you. They worsened after I displayed so openly my anger with my son the other night.” His rough palm rested on my smooth cheek, and his thumb gently stroked my skin. “I am sorry for that, as well. When I heard that he was coveting your dear sister’s affections, my desire to protect the two of you overruled my paternal love for him. But I hope to make amends for both of those wrongs. I have missed our chiding banter very much.”
A soft smile turned my lips up at the corners, and I saw myself through his eyes because his physical contact with me led me easily into his thoughts. A light had flickered to life in my eyes when I smiled, gleaming gently out at him. The shadowy makeup around my eyes amplified the color of my eyes, putting it in perfectly stark contrast with the darkness of my dress. When he had said he was astounded by my beauty, that he saw me as being more beautiful than all the others, he had not been lying; in fact, he had been downplaying just how riveted and mystified he was by my physical attractiveness, and how riveted and mystified he was by his attraction to me.
I, on the other hand, was riveted and mystified by how he could be so attracted. He was so powerful, and though I certainly was powerful, there were many others far more beautiful than I.
“How he lets you think such things…” He murmured somewhat angrily, his green eyes burning into mine. “How he lets you believe that you are not p…”
He stopped, moved his hand from my face, and looked away for a moment.
“I do apologize.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Have a blessed evening tonight, Brynna. You deserve one.” With that, he was gone, moving fluidly through the room to greet Tony and Tom, who had arrived at separate entrances.
“What in the world was that about?” Rachel asked, grabbing my arm and snapping me out of my slightly woozy and flustered but oddly pleasant daze.
“We just talked.”
“No, that was not just talking.”
Somehow, they managed to dim the torches, and we all began to sit down.
“I will tell you later. It is starting.”
We were all startled by the loud, shrill cry of the organ in the back of the room. After the initial shock wore off, we all stood to see Tony and Tom entering the hall, their arms linked. They smiled out at everyone and grasped the hands of those who reached out to them. They were the first Earthean couple to be married on Pangaea, and in our little world, that honor made them celebrities.
The ceiling was hung with streamers of white and green flowers, which had been specifically requested by the happy couple, because those were the colors of their favorite sports team back home. The pew-like benches were hung with the same streamers. At the end of the aisle, Adam stood in front of a beautiful fountain that glimmered with the light of the fireflies inside the hanging jars all around him.
Before turning around to continue watching Tony and Tom end their walk down the aisle, my eyes scanned the crowd for James, almost by reflex, for whatever reason. They did not find him immediately, but then, so many were in attendance, it would be next to impossible to pick him out of the large crowd. But after turning my head so I could continue to watch Tony and Tom, I saw him, standing beside Adam, though it was obvious that they were pointedly avoiding looking at one another.
“He is the best man.” I whispered, thinking that no one could hear me, but Rachel had.
“Of course he is. You know how James saved Tom’s life.”
During the raid on the campsite during which Quinn was stabbed straight through the stomach, Tom found himself within the direct line of fire by a very angry Old Spirit. Just as the gun fired, he said, James tackled him around the middle, and after regaining their ability to breathe after such a hard tumble, they easily took down the man who had shot at Tom. After that, they had become very good friends. I knew Tony from the kitchen, and we were both thrilled to learn that our significant others had met and got along so well.
“Never has there been a more odd opportunity for double dating: the not-as-creepy pseudo-Lolita pairing, and the two gays.” Tony had said one day as we prepared dinner.
“I think I might shorten that to ‘The Lolita Pairing and the Gays,’ and we will then have our very own reality show. Or perhaps a Broadway musical.” I had replied.
“God, I miss Broadway. I am such a fucking stereotype.”
“Stop!” I had exclaimed, as I laughed hysterically.
We always had silly conversations like that.
My beloved erstwhile boyfriend had always been a tad thick when it came to fashion, save for the debonair designer suit that he was wearing the night I met him. The rest of the time, he was a jeans and T-shirt, or jeans and button-up kind of guy, which suited me just fine. However, when there was need to dress differently than that standard protocol, he would require my assistance. One day, after Rachel, Violet, Alice, Tony, the rest of the cooking staff, and I stayed up all night preparing a particularly amazing spread of food for a change of season celebration at the house, he had slunk down early in the morning before the rest of the house had arisen, snuck in the back door of the kitchen, and asked me quite abashedly if his clothes matched. His clothes had matched, but I had been besieged by sudden fits of laughter for the rest of the morning.
However, despite my absence, James had picked a suit that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his muscles just enough and bringing out the color in his eyes, despite the fact that the suit was black. His hair was perfectly gelled in that stylized mess I was so used to seeing. His beard was trimmed back down to just a goatee and five o clock shadow again, and I found myself questioning exactly how he was able to trim it that way, though I assumed it was just some skill that most men honed as they aged. His eyes were scanning the crowd, sensing, perhaps, that many were staring at him, and when I looked over my shoulder, I did see quite a few women and men gawking at him. A woman three over in the row from me was thinking how very stupid I was for letting such a “delicious” man go. I scowled over at her, opening my mouth to say that it was none of her business, and that if she wanted to insinuate that I was stupid, she was doing so at her own risk. But Rachel’s hand grasped mine.
“All I can see is lust and envy in her heart. Don’t pay her any mind. Look, here comes Mrs. Rose.”
Tony’s mother, whom we all simply called “Mrs. Rose,” as though she were a house mother in a sorority (and that analogy was very befitting of her personality) was his matron of honor, and I waved to her when our eyes met. She smiled and waved back.
“Say hi to Mrs. Rose.” I whispered to Penny, and Penny waved, too, receiving the same warm smile that I had received a moment earlier.
“James!” Penny whispered, when she saw him, and when his eyes met hers, she waved ecstatically, beaming from ear to ear, as they say. He smiled at her and gestured kindly for her to stay quiet and sit down. She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, something I had not seen since the early nineties when I was a child, but she was still smiling. His smile grew, too, but it faded slightly when he looked at me.
I looked away, flushing red, wondering if I looked as tired as I felt all of a sudden. Perhaps it was his anger at me that had caused his smile to falter. Perhaps he missed me. I could not be totally sure, but I was reasonable positive that the last option was not the correct one. Honestly, he was more than likely furious that I had left him in great discomfort after prematurely ending his hand job. I smiled to myself when I thought about it; it was such a horrible thing to have done to him, but God, he deserved it.
“You may be seated.” Adam said, and we all sat back down in our seats. “We have gathered here on this day to accompany our two friends, Thomas and Anthony, at the beginning of their long journey of matrimony. On this day that is blessed by the one God, we shall pay witness to their e
xchange of vows and rings, vows that speak to each of us, reminding us of the power of love, tolerance, fidelity, truth, and honesty…”
On the last three words, Adam’s head turned ever so slightly in James’s direction, and that slight movement was not lost on James; he scowled darkly, his jaw clenching.
“…And rings that symbolize the circle that is made never-ending by the strength of those five universal and eternal values. You may present the rings.”
Vows were said, and they were so beautifully written that there was not a dry eye in the house, it seems, save for my own. Rings were exchanged, and they glinted perfectly in the light from the fireflies. Despite my eyes being dry, I never lost the smile that had formed on my face the moment Tony and Tom had begun to speak. Weddings brought out the little romantic in each of us, creating a soaring, swooning caress of warmth and idealism within one’s heart, making us yearn for the day when we could love someone so much that an eternity with them did not only seem possible but was actually what we wanted more than anything else in the world. One would either gaze lovingly at his or her partner, remembering the day they had joined together in marriage or envisioning the day when they would, or one would smile somewhat sadly at the memory of one’s own union from a time that had long since passed, as Savannah was doing, or one would stare at their erstwhile boyfriend or girlfriend, who had sworn off the entire premise of marriage from the very beginning, but then one would say that she did not care, because she did not believe in it or need it either, and she and her boyfriend were not together, anyway…
But still, I could feel happiness for my friends. I could not help but embrace a little idealism, though I was not sure on what exactly my rose-colored glasses were shining.
“I find it hilarious that we were all under the impression that they didn’t have any modern technology here. They don’t have as much as we did, but they have enough, don’t they?”
“What?!” I heard a man shout to his friend over the thumping sound of the drums and bass that were being amplified by the speaker he was standing beside.
The band was playing Earthean songs spanning several decades and genres, and everyone was dancing joyfully. I was watching as Penny danced with Idan, and Violet danced with Nick, and Alice danced with Quinn. After several long moments of watching, I slunk off, taking a rolled cigarette from a tray that had been laid out; apparently, now that people could not die of cancer, cigarettes had become a party favor.
After stepping outside, I approached the outdoor bar and sat down.
“What can I get you, Ms. Vice President?”
“Oh, Ethan…” I sighed heavily, “I appreciate that title, but I do believe that Don is Vice President of our little country. Actually, Janna might be. I think, if anything, I’m the Treasury Secretary, or something.”
“Who put you in charge of our money?” Ethan asked.
“That was a poor analogy. I suppose that I am the Press Secretary. Or I am a Senator.”
“You’ll always be the Vice President to me, Brynna Olivier.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Now, come on. Let me mix you a drink to go with that cigarette.”
“Give her one of those Sangrias, and put it on my tab.”
Ethan grinned and turned around to make my drink. I turned my rotating bar stool around to face James, who had just sat down on the stool beside me.
“I don’t actually have a tab.” He told me, “I just really wanted to say that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It felt very James Bond-esque.”
“It was a little James Bond-like, I will agree…” I replied with a slight nod. I thanked Ethan when he put the drink down in front of me but could have cursed him when he slunk off to give James and me time alone.
“How are you, Brynna?” James asked me, and though he was looking at me, I was trying to focus my eyes anywhere else but on him.
“You did not gather that information all those times I answered you when you asked me that? In front of the house, when you were picking up or dropping off Penny?”
“You said you were fine. So, you are still fine? Is that a better question? Does your state of being fine persist?” He reached out to take the lighter from my hand so he could light my cigarette, but I pulled my hand away so I could do it myself. “Sorry.”
“Do not be sorry. So, did you choose that ensemble you are wearing all by yourself?”
“I did. Well, actually, a very nice Pangaean seamstress aided me, I will admit. But I chose the suit and shirt, she helped me with the tie and the shoes. This whole thing was a little expensive, though. I traded my watch and several buckets of crops.”
“How many is several?”
“Like, four. Maybe five.”
“Wow. You have been working hard.”
“Well, what else could I do? I needed something to take my mind off of you, didn’t I?”
“And Janna couldn’t do that for you?” I shot at him suddenly so I could judge his initial reaction. His cool demeanor did not falter. A slight smile turned his mouth up at the corners, and he took a slow, labored sip from his glass.
“I haven’t seen her once since I moved out, actually. And besides, no one takes my mind off of things better than you, my dear.”
“Oh, flattery. A very crafty maneuver out of a tight, tricky space, James Maxwell. You always rely on flattery to get what you want from me, and it so rarely works.”
“But it answered your question, didn’t it? You know I haven’t seen her. Well, I’ve seen her, but I haven’t said a word to her. What about Adam? I saw you two going into Town Hall the other day. You left together, too.”
“Okay, stalker.” I said.
“I wasn’t stalking you. I was working on Ezra’s farm right across from Town Hall. So I saw you two walking.”
“Yes. Walking. Not walking and holding hands. Not stopping our trek to kiss or caress or whatever else you were no doubt dreading seeing.”
“I was not…”
“I saw it in your mind! You didn’t think I knew you were there, but I could see how afraid you were that we had gotten together. Now, I suppose, you know how I feel.”
“I’ve always known how you feel about this, Brynna. I know how badly I hurt you. I screwed up royally. I’ve said it a million times.” He moved closer to me and cautiously took my hand. I didn’t pull away. “It’s been one hundred and five days.” I looked at him, surprised. “What, you didn’t think I would count? I tried not to, believe me. But every day, it was like a reflex; I just added another day. I know, it’s pathetic. But I’m so used to you. The contrast between how things were and how they are now is actually kind of startling. How could I ignore it?”
“If you are trying to drop into the conversation your request to move back home, please just do it.”
“Never.” He leaned over, “For it is not my place, dear madam. Never could it be my place to inquire of a lady when her wrath shall end, and the exact time at which I may return to thine living quarters and my side of the royal bed, which is so perfectly broken in…”
“It is.” I replied, “Granted, it killed my back when I slept there, but it is much softer than my side of the bed.” I had replied almost out of a reflex, not realizing that I had just betrayed however slightly how very much I missed him. Quickly, I tried to divert his attention away from what I had said. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Working. Everyone wants to hunt down the Old Spirits and end this, especially Adam’s people. And yet we’re stuck doing farm work, or training for a fight that doesn’t seem like it is ever going to happen.”
He said it in a way that was almost aggressive, as though I was partially responsible, given my position.
“Well, until a plan with a chance of success above ten percent is formulated, we will be remaining here. Regrouping and refocusing. Readjusting.”
“Did you just give me a statement?” He asked me incredulously as he tried to fight the grin t
hat was struggling to spread across his face. “That was a legitimate statement! You’re treating me like press.”
“You are treating me like you are part of the press. Did you not just insinuate that I am keeping you bloodthirsty, vengeance-seeking security hounds from zipping off to the north, killing every man, woman, and child, and then returning home with news that the war is over and our lives can finally begin?”
“I never said that. You’re putting words in my…”
“Everyone wants to hunt down the Old Spirits. We are stuck doing farm work, or training for a fight that doesn’t seem like it is ever going to happen. Who assigns you to farm work or training? Don does. Who are you blaming for your unsatisfying daily activities? Don. Who is Don’s second-in-command? Who makes the decision that you all should be doing farm work and training? Don and me.”
“You two are thick as thieves now, I see.” He replied after a minute of silence during which he had just stared at me, his expression blank, and his feelings on my speech completely indiscernible. The alcohol was beginning to melt my mind into a not unpleasant haze. Despite the new heaviness of my body, my mouth ran even more quickly than it normally did, which was quite a feat.
“That cliché does not fit. ‘Thick as thieves’ implies friendship. Camaraderie. Nights spent gossiping or drinking beers or both. An investment on my part in the problems that Don faces in his disgustingly perverted personal life. What he and I have, and what he, Adam, and I have, is a professional relationship in which the three of us discuss, debate, and haggle over how to handle the enormous task of managing thousands of people and a humongous forest village. At the same time, we have to constantly fear a strike from the Old Spirits. What I have for them is respect. What I respect is our ability to make the decisions that are in the best interest of the group. What I respect is our ability to accept the opinions of those who have been appointed to a makeshift ‘council.’ So, please, do not complain to me as though I will suddenly run off and tell Adam and Don that a counterstrike must be taken tonight.”
He was silent, and I tilted my glass back, throwing all pretense out the window by taking huge gulps, hoping the burning liquid would drown out my new, very intense, very overdramatic agitation. Looking at him literally pained me; the threat of tears choked me. I missed him. I wanted him to come home. But I was so angry, and more importantly, I didn’t trust him anymore. Worst of all, I feared that I never would trust him again.
“Baby… Baby! Brynna!” He took the glass from me, but it was already empty. “God, I’m going to build you a boat and sew you a freaking eye-patch if you keep drinking like that!”
“If you are suggesting that I was drinking like a sailor, then mentioning an eye patch is somewhat ridiculous. A sailor is not necessarily a pirate, though a pirate is a sailor.”
“Well, whatever the technicalities, that is going to hit you like a bomb in about ten minutes. You’re smoking again?”
I had been in the process of lighting another cigarette.
“Not because of you. Please, do not assume that my status as a smoker being reinstated has anything to do with you.” My speech was beginning to slur, and I was having a hard time focusing on the end of my cigarette as I struggled to bring the match up to light it. James held my hand steady and guided it so the flame finally touched the end of the cigarette. Then, he took one from the pack and lit it up.
“Teamwork.” He said with a slight smile. He turned his head to exhale smoke and then looked back at me. I purposely was not making eye contact with him. The alcohol, which I had hoped would numb my aggravation, had actually loosened the tightly wound hive in which my most acidic anger and my deepest sadness were kept burrowed away. Tears were beginning to leak into my eyes, and my only hope now to stop them was nicotine.
“Are you having fun at this wedding?”
“I was until you showed up, honestly.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No.” I answered instantly, emphatically, before stumbling over my words as I tried to say something else. “I mean, do what you want. I don’t care. Goodness, I probably said that to you before, and you did go and do what you wanted. You went and did Janna, didn’t you? Fucking Janna…” I shook my head back and forth. “So beautiful, isn’t she? Such a perfectly angular face and her damn long, painted nails, and her perfectly straight raven hair. So stupid!”
“Is she really all that?”
“Oh, do not even pretend like she is not. Do not even pretend like you have not noticed.”
“Of course I noticed, but it didn’t matter to me.” He squeezed my hand again. “It was stupid, what I did. I know it hurt you.”
“Please stop trying to have a heart-to-heart with me. I do believe that I am slowly becoming more and more intoxicated, and if you start trying to apologize again, I will have to run away, and then I will fall, and it will not be funny!”
“Not at all? You wouldn’t laugh a little bit?”
“No!” I snapped, shaking my head. “I need to go home. It is late. I need to take Penny home.”
“I was just dancing with Penny. When I left to find you, she was tearing up that dance floor with Adam’s son and her two friends from next door. You will never tear her away, my love. Come on. Stand up.” He took my hand and gently pulled me onto my feet. I swayed slightly, and for a moment, my head spun in complete circles. My hands grabbed onto him unsurely, while his held me up resolutely; I could not believe for even a second that I was going to fall to the ground.
“Whenever I’m alone with you / You make me feel like I am whole again…”
“This is my jam.” I told James, “As Violet says. Violet says it’s my jam. No, Violet says quote ‘it’s my jam,’ not that this song is my jam…”
He was clearly trying very hard not to burst into hysterical laughter, but alas, he could not suppress it. For several seconds, he laughed, trying hard not to let it get too out of control. Then he pulled me so that I was trailing a few steps behind him, spun me around so that I was in front of him, and took my hand.
“Smooth, right? Go ahead, you can smile. This is like, the most romantic thing I’ve ever done, and that’s not good.”
“You dancing with me to my jam in the middle of this beautifully lighted space is not the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me.”
“Then what is the most romantic thing I’ve ever done for you?”
I looked up at the twinkling stars overhead, thinking hard.
“Alright, you win. But just so you are aware, and I suppose I should say ‘in case you didn’t know this already,’ but I do not need grand romantic gestures. I find them irritating. And cheesy. Irratat-tingly cheesy.”
“Is this irritat-tingly cheesy?”
“Shut up. No. This is fine.”
For several long seconds, we just swayed back and forth in silence, listening to the song. I looked up at him eventually, and almost by its own will, my hand traveled up to grasp his cheek. Almost like a reflex, or as though it was some secret code, he kissed my palm as he always did after I placed it on his face. The song ended, but I had not noticed, because I had leaned my head forward to rest against his shoulder and turned my face to bury it in his neck. His arms tightened around me, and mine tightened around him, and the alcohol finally unwound the hive inside me, and tears were streaking silently down my face.
“I’m sorry.” He told me somewhat hoarsely, and my grip on him tightened. “I promise you, it will never happen again. Okay? Brynna, I promise.”
I did not respond for a long time. I just held onto him, allowing myself to let go of that anger, knowing that one day I might suffer for forgiving him, but forgiving him nonetheless. I gave him that millionth chance, it seemed, that last chance, because I loved him, and because I would want someone to give it to me.
Though it is cheesy to say, life really is all a gamble of chances, given and received. In this particular instance, I could have let him go, and as a result ached for him all my life, t
hinking that maybe, just maybe, he could have earned my forgiveness and trust again, or I could have given him that last chance, and risk having my heart broken completely by him again. As you may have gathered by now, I thrived on risk; I chose it always.
“Okay.”
We dragged Penny away from the party, and James ended up carrying her home. By the time he had laid her in her bed, she was sound asleep. When we fell into our bed a few minutes after tucking her in, we were so tired that even getting out of our dress clothes proved to be a nearly insurmountable challenge. I turned over onto my side, and he unzipped my dress for me. I unhooked my bra, and he unbuttoned his dress shirt and pants. We threw our discarded items of clothing onto the floor unceremoniously and fell back against the pillows. I laid on my side, lifting my torso up so he could put one arm under it; the other he draped over me. Both of my hands held onto his arms, and that warmth filled me up, almost more powerfully than it ever had, or perhaps I had just gone so long without feeling it that it felt more intense.
“I am going to be very sick in the morning.”
He raised his head to kiss my cheek softly.
“And I’ll take care of you.”
Before he laid the side of his face back against the side of mine, I turned back and kissed him. For a long time, we kissed, and when his hand ran gently up my thigh, up my side, over my shoulder, up my neck, and rested on my face as his lips moved against mine so gently, that warmth was joined by a strong tingling sensation from the place where he was touching me throughout my entire body.
“I know you will.”