by Dina Silver
I strategically placed my towel near the lifeguard, behind his perch and a little to the left. I noticed him pacing the front of his station, and then he glanced at me for half a second. He was picture perfect as far as I could tell. Solid muscular build, evenly tanned skin, and a glistening pair of Ray Bans. Aside from me, the beach was extremely empty with only about three other people around, two in the water and one man sitting on the sand who was noticeably overdressed in wool pants and a long sleeved sweatshirt. I was expecting more of an upbeat hustle bustle atmosphere, but tourists, locals, and frolicking children were pretty much non-existent on that Wednesday morning. Either way, I was happy to be there. The North Avenue beach on Lake Michigan just can’t compare to the ocean.
I spread out my towel, being careful not to disturb too much sand and made a nice little spot for myself to sunbathe. I started out by testing fate and going without sunscreen for the first thirty minutes just to get a little pink on my cheeks, and was almost done with my magazine when I decided to put it away and take a nap. I grabbed my sunglasses, lay down on my back, draped my t-shirt over my waist and closed my eyes. The warm early morning sun had me curled up like a kitten in no time.
The noise that woke me up was not a sound that one normally associates with the beach. It was the sound of a truck engine and it was almost on top of me when I opened my eyes. As soon as I realized there was a Beach Patrol Jeep less than three feet from my towel, I immediately sat up and looked at the two new lifeguards arresting the over-dressed homeless man who had apparently set up a spot of his own, inches from mine during my brief slumber. Neither of the two patrolmen made eye contact with me as they were putting the man into their truck, but I noticed that the cutie I had spied earlier was now staring right at me from his perch with a goofy smile on his face. My cheeks went flush as I looked around to see if anyone else had witnessed this spectacle. Embarrassed, I yanked my shirt over my head and rushed toward the Baywatch babe to ask if he knew what had happened.
“Hi,” I said, waving up at him.
“Good morning,” he answered, leaning over the tower rail.
“What just happened over there?” I pleaded for some information.
“Didn’t you see that guy?” he asked me.
“No. I mean, not until just now. The truck woke me up.”
“Well, your friend there was…pleasuring himself…next to you.” His smile grew like the Cheshire cat.
My stomach sank and my face turned red without help from the sun as I briefly looked back at the commotion next to my belongings. “Are you kidding me?” I said in disbelief.
“Nope. It happens all the time. In fact I called in the troops almost as soon as you sat down. What brings you to this beach anyway?” he asked the question that I had been wondering myself.
“Well, my best and now former friend sent me here this morning. I’m in from out of town.”
“Welcome to L.A.,” he waved a hand in the air. “I’m Rob.”
“I’m Kat, nice to meet you - sort of,” I said.
“How long are you in town?” he asked.
“Just a few days,” I said.
“I see. So, what do you and your clueless girlfriend have planned tonight?”
“I’m not really sure,” I answered, digging my toes into the sand and wondering if he was really going to ask me out under these circumstances?
“Me and some of the other life guards are going to the Daily Pint later, around seven thirty. Tell your friend, I’m sure she’ll know where it is,” Rob said.
“Okay, that sounds great. Hopefully we’ll see you there. I can’t imagine she’s scheduled us to meet another group of lifeguards anywhere else,” I joked.
“And tell her to take better care of you next time.”
“Will do.”
As it turned out, Julie, Emma and myself did end up meeting Rob and his band of beach brothers out that night, and he ignored me almost instantly and set his life-saving sights on Emma. They’ve been together ever since.
Beth shoves Julie to the side. “Now back away from the groom for God’s sake. Mazel Tov honey, we’re so excited for you. Where’s Emma?”
“She’s in with her bridesmaids hogging the air-conditioner. I’ve lost three pounds of sweat since this afternoon.”
“Everything is going to be amazing,” I say. “Why don’t you get a cool glass of something? Don’t your lackeys have emergency tequila stashed away for you somewhere?”
“Please Kat, that was so two hours ago.”
“I should have known.” I smile and pat him on the back.
“Okay girls, I’ll see you in there, gotta run,” he says and waves goodbye.
“Good luck, Rob, you’re going to be great. You’re a lucky guy!” Julie shouts after him.
Julie wipes her forehead and turns to Beth and me. “What possesses people to have an outdoor wedding in this town? It’s ninety-three degrees in the Goddamned shade, my back is dripping, and I’ve been here all of five minutes.”
“More importantly, what possessed me to straighten my hair for this thing? Look at it already,” I say, and begin to pull on the ends in an attempt at keeping it from springing up around my face.
“You straightened your hair today?” Beth asks.
“Crap!” I pull harder.
Aside from the sauna that is this wedding, all I can focus on is seeing Marc. I’m scoping the place out like a radar gun waiting for him to appear. How will he act? How will I react? Will my newfound adoration for Ryan ward him off like a protective shield, guarding me from all that is sappy and familiar?
Beth and Julie were forced to listen to me predict Marc’s behavior on the entire ride over here, and they were extremely supportive in their own way. Julie’s pessimistic nature led her to inform me that it’s for the best, and that my relationship with Marc was a study in dysfunction. Its demise has brought out the best in me, she said. Beth, on the other hand, has assured me that it’s been a well-deserved and much needed break, but that weddings almost always rekindle old romances…and I should be prepared for that as well. Just as we walk back inside the museum for a shot of cool air and a cocktail, I see him enter the room at the opposite end. My halted pace signals the girls, and within seconds all three of us are staring at him.
Shit, he looks great. His hair is a little bit longer than he usually wears it, and the length nicely accents his disheveled surfer turned business mogul appeal. He’s dressed in a suit but noticeably without a tie. His white dress shirt is open at the neck and he looks as comfortable as I’ve ever seen him. My stomach begins to turn as it always does when I get nervous, and I notice Beth and Julie looking back and forth at Marc and me, and then finally at each other.
“Showtime,” Julie remarks. “No pressure doll face.”
“You’re fine, you look gorgeous, and your hair is perfectly straight.” Beth winks at me. “Do you want us to magically disappear or no?”
I adjust my posture so that I’m not facing him head on. “I’m not sure yet,” I say using my best ventriloquism, and observe Marc standing next to his friend Graham, looking over at us.
Julie pats the sweat under her arms with a cocktail napkin. “Why don’t we all just go and get a drink like we’d planned?” she suggests.
“Fine, yes, that’s fine,” I waffle, head bobbing. “Wait, you know what, I think I should just go over and say hello. Why make this uncomfortable?” I look to my girlfriends for encouragement.
“I agree,” says Beth. “Do you want us to go with you?”
“Bad idea,” declares Julie, shaking her head. “You’re going to ruin your night, and Rob’s wedding before it even starts.”
Beth erupts with laughter. “Oh, my God, would you shut up and leave her alone,” she slaps Julie’s boob and tugs on her purse strap like a leash. “Go on, Kat, we’ll be by the bar.”
“Ow!” Julie screams, massaging her chest.
I watch as they walk towards the bar and leave me standing alone. I know I have to
turn around, move an arm, blink, or do something but instead I stand there frozen. Then I close my eyes and beg the hamster to stop running around inside my lower abdomen. A second later someone walks up behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.
I manage the turn and come face-to-face with Marc. I look up and into his familiar eyes, and am immediately at ease.
“Hey,” Marc says casually.
“Hey, Marc,” I answer, as we hug.
“Nice to see you, you look good. I always liked when you wore your hair curly,” he says.
Friggin’ heat!
“Thank you,” I was just about to walk over and say hello. Where’s Graham?” I ask.
“At the bar with Beth and Julie.”
I turn back toward the bar to see the three of them looking over at us. I give an obligatory wave to Graham and he gives me a nod.
“So how’s everything? Work good?” I ask, and shift my body weight back and forth in my heels to keep myself from getting light headed.
Marc puts his hands in his pockets. “Work’s been going well, can’t complain. How about you?”
“I guess I can’t complain either. Well that’s a lie…I can always muster up a good complaint, but I’ll spare you just this once.” I smile.
“My lucky day,” he says, then removes one hand from his pocket and runs it through his hair.
The thin strap on my cocktail bag keeps slipping, so I fumble to secure it on my shoulder. “How’s the family?” I ask. “Please tell your mom I say hello.”
“I will, thanks, she’ll be glad to hear from you.”
I feel compelled to trash the niceties and say something substantial, something that will stick with him tonight, because I have no idea when we’ll see each other next. Marc can be all about saving face at times, and I can tell that he’s mostly concerned with looking confident and blasé at the moment. He would never want to let on that he’s been remotely anxious about this encounter like I have. God, I know him so well. We continue to stand there, both of our eyes bouncing around like pinballs, not sure where to land or what to look at.
I decide to speak my mind and be honest with him. “Well, I wasn’t sure if this would be weird or not, but it’s truly good to see you Marc. And things with me are going well,” I say with as much sincerity as I can.
“Yeah, yeah, me too, everything is good. It’s nice to see you too, Kat,” he says with confidence.
“I mean it Marc. I’m doing well, and I’m glad to hear that things are good with you. And you look great.” I couldn’t resist the compliment.
“Thanks Kat,” he says, oozing self-assurance. “Well, I better find Graham, we’ll catch up later okay?”
“Okay, sure,” I say as he taps me on the arm like he would a fellow colleague and walks over to the bar.
I stand there alone again, wondering if he heard anything I just said, and watch him approach my friends and exchange hugs and salutations. Desperate to look confident and blasé myself, I reach for my phone and text Adam.
Just saw Marc.
I text.
NFW! where?
He replies.
At Robs wedding u douche.
I say.
And???
He asks.
And not much.
I reply.
Why r u bothering me then?
Even via text he manages to sound annoyed.
I’m using you to look busy and important. Standing alone at the moment.
I text.
Lord! pls report back with something juicy. Get drunk and flash a boob on the dance floor or something.
He requests.
I’ll do my breast. Luv u.
I text and smile.
I put my phone back in my purse as Beth and Julie finally make their way back to me with my drink. I suck down half of a dirty martini in two gulps.
“So?” Julie is the first to speak. “He looks cute.”
“I didn’t notice,” I reply with my best party sarcasm.
“I’m kidding. He looks as vanilla as ever. What’d he say?” she asks eagerly.
I swirl my blue cheese olives around on their little red spear. “He was cool as a cucumber, and everything is terrific, blah, blah, blah.”
“Of course it is,” Beth adds. “You didn’t really think he’d let you think otherwise?”
I take another swig of my cocktail and catch Marc and Graham walking outside toward the patio. “No, I just expected a little more depth I guess. I mean, it’s been months since we’ve seen each other, and I tried to open up the conversation a little wider, but he wasn’t having it.”
“Well, I’m not surprised,” says Julie.
“It’s fine. My nausea has settled and the worst is over,” I say. “As soon as I get another one of these drinks we can start having some fun.”
“Woo hoo,” Julie says smugly. “How about the second we hear the band start playing Celebration, we head for the hills?”
“Deal!” Beth and I say in unison.
I would like to spend the rest of the evening thinking about my date with Ryan tomorrow, but like a magnet, my mind and eyes keep going back to Marc. Much to my dismay, I’m longing to talk to him and spend time with him, but it’s clear that he’s doing everything in his power to keep his distance. He’s not much of a dancer, so I periodically notice he’s either at his table with his buddies or at the bar. We lock eyes a couple times by accident and exchange friendly smiles. I’m equally surprised and annoyed by how good he looks. There is still an underlying friendship between us, and regardless of our break-up I still care about him.
The first note of “Celebration” hits the airwaves at midnight. Beth, Julie and I find ourselves unexpectedly separated at that moment, but are able to reconvene at the museum’s front entrance within seconds.
“Ce-le-brate good times…come on!” Julie sings and gestures toward the exit with her head.
“Should we say goodbye to anyone?” Beth asks.
“Why start being polite now?” I ask.
“True.”
We gather our purses and not-so-discreetly head for the exit. I want to say goodbye to Marc, but he’s at his table with a group of people near the dance floor, oozing indifference. I glance over at him a couple dozen times as we’re leaving, hoping for the chance to wave or nod or something, but he never looks up. I try mental telepathy, but that doesn’t work either.
Beth notices my pathetic attempts at getting his attention. “Do you want to go say goodbye to him?” she asks.
“Do you think I should?” I ask Beth, as Julie shakes her head, no.
“I do, if you want to,” Beth says to me.
I look over at him one more time and that’s all it takes. He’s now staring back at me. Instinctively, I lift my hand and give him a quick wave goodbye. He just smiles and nods. Beth then takes my hand and leads me away.
I survived the wedding. All the trepidation surrounding this event is behind me now, and so is Marc. We’d been kind and civil and that was all I could’ve hoped for. Once we’re officially out of the building, I’m pleasantly surprised by how relaxed I feel. Normally I’d be crying, or texting, or forcing my friends to recap the evening to death. But not this time.
The three of us grab a cab and head to the Weiner Circle for a tray of cheese fries before heading our separate ways. I debate whether or not to call Ryan when I get home. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t stop thinking about him. Is there a snowball’s chance in hell that he’ll contact me tonight? It doesn’t seem like his M.O. but I’m still hopeful. He knew I was going to a friend’s wedding, but I hadn’t mentioned that my ex would be there. It just didn’t seem like relevant information prior to our first date.
As I crawl into bed I am genuinely comfortable for the first time in a long time. Seeing Marc wasn’t nearly the drama-laden event I had assumed it would be, and I’m so looking forward to being alone with Ryan tomorrow night, that I can barely keep from smiling. Just then the phone rings. I’ve been s
o lost in my state of euphoria that I actually let out a little gasp. Curtis leaps off the bed as I check the clock and see that it’s two o’clock in the morning. My prayers are answered! I knock the phone off its base and hear it click to connect as it hits the floor.
“Hello?” I say and scramble to pick it up as I regain my balance.
“Hey, it’s Marc.”
I rub my eyes. “Oh,” I answer.
“Did I wake you?” he asks.
“No, I, uh, sorry, no,” I stutter.
“I’m downstairs.”
As soon as the phone rang, I’d thought for sure it was Ryan. I’d hoped it was Ryan. I hadn’t even considered the old alternative.
“You’re where?” I ask, confused.
“Downstairs,” he repeats. “Are you sure this isn’t a bad time?”
I jump up like an obedient soldier. “It’s fine, I was just falling asleep.”
“Can I come up?” he asks.
“Sure.” The words exit my mouth before I can make sense of them.
I buzz him up, run to the bathroom and scramble to put my contacts back in. I’m assuming he’s drunk, but vanity prevents me from letting him see me in my glasses at this hour. Nothing good can come of this. I hurry to the front door as soon as I hear him knock.
“Hi, come on in,” I say. He looks oddly as comfortable as he did earlier. I, on the other hand, look like a tired tramp who just spent the last hour with her face buried in a tray of cheese fries.
“Thanks,” he says, and stops in the doorway.
“Do you want to come sit down?” I ask and gesture with my hand.
“Sure.”
I follow him to the couch and he takes his suit coat off and sits down next to me. He stays there smiling awkwardly at me while I make some pathetic remark about my pajamas.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask.
He lets out a little laugh. “I wanted to see you.”
“Not without make-up I imagine,” I say and make my best pretty face, feeling much more self-deprecating at this hour. Brooke would be so proud.