by Paul Preston
“Come on, Eric. I told you about all, Edward. We did that play together, downtown. Remember?”
“You never told me that! You were in a play? I would’ve remembered that. My, you are just full of surprises, aren’t you, Elizabeth. Even on our wedding day!”
“You remember, Edward? At that hotel downtown? “Sweet Sue” I think it was called,” Elizabeth said.
“How could I forget?” I said, playing along. “You were magnificent in it, by the way,” I said.
“So that’s how you two know each other?” Deborah asked.
“Have you met my lawyer, Deborah?” Eric asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Don’t get caught in the same courtroom with her, Edward. She might look sweet on the surface, but believe me, she’ll skin you alive, take a bite out of you and share you with her friends,” Eric said, flashing his perfect white teeth.
“You’re very kind, but they didn’t have a case against you, Eric,” Deborah said.
“Not after you eviscerated their so-called medical expert,” Eric said, smiling.
“It’s what I do,” Deborah said, looking at me with a peculiar, hungry look in her eyes.
Standing awkwardly, my hand clutching the wine glass, I watched Elizabeth greet and exchange chit chat with the other guests at my table. After a moment, Dr. Richards grabbed his new bride by the arm.
“Honey, they’re about to do the toasts. After the honeymoon, let’s all get together for dinner, shall we?” Eric suggested, dragging Elizabeth back to the table of honor.
The few seconds of my time with Elizabeth was gone. As she disappeared into the crowd in her sparkling wedding dress, Deborah caught me looking after her perhaps a little too long.
“So you two were in a play together?” Deborah asked, staring at me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Mmmm,” she said, her laser-like eyes staring right through me over the rim of her champagne flute.
I listened to the toasts. Elizabeth did look genuinely happy and Eric appeared to be a very nice guy. I knew deep down that he was the better man for her than me. I know it was rude, but I stood up and visited the bar before the toasts were over to refill my wine glass. At the bar there was an older man with a video camera asking guests to record a message for the husband and wife. He reminded me a little of Farnsworth, except the people he was filming were all fully clothed. Before I could leave with my drink he asked me to give the bride and groom my best wishes. I pretended not to hear him and turned away from the camera.
When I returned to the table the toasts were over and Deborah had disappeared into the crowd. I saw her chatting it up with various dignitaries.
Then the irritating MC announced it was time for the Father/Daughter Dance. The beginning of Louis Armstrong’s rendition of “What a Wonderful World” played as Elizabeth awkwardly met her father at the center of the dance floor. I maneuvered my way to the front of the crowd to watch. At first Elizabeth kept her distance from her Father and looked uncomfortable with the physical contact. As the song progressed, an unspoken reconciliation appeared to take place between them. It was I, not Eric Richards, who alone understood the abandonment issues Elizabeth had to overcome to dance with her father on her wedding day. Midway through the dance, Elizabeth caught my eyes intently staring at her and we shared a glance. I gave her my best smile and nodded my head at her and Elizabeth smiled back at me, blinking back tears. It was only then that Elizabeth was able to rest her head on her Father’s shoulder and finish the dance in a closer embrace. After the dance, I returned to my seat. The Father/Mother dance was next up. I didn’t watch it.
The DJ blasted out hip hop music and everyone started dancing. I saw Deborah in the crowd dancing with several different men, but I wasn’t in the mood. I sullenly drank by myself, alone at the table. I lost count of how many drinks I had.
After that period of frivolity, all the single women at the wedding lined up on the dance floor. Elizabeth turned her back to them and threw her wedding bouquet high into the air over her shoulder into the midst of the women. In an agile athletic move, Deborah jumped up and caught the bouquet in one outstretched hand. Good for her. If tradition holds, she will find the right guy to marry. Next, the single men lined up for the garter belt festivities. At first I refused to participate, but Deborah unexpectedly grabbed my arm.
“No thanks, I’d rather not,” I said, over the din of the crowd.
“Come on, stop sitting there all by yourself, Edward,” Deborah said, pulling me into the middle of the throng.
To the background of stereotypical stripper music, the MC made Elizabeth sit on a chair in the center of the floor, open her legs and allow her husband to remove the garter from her upper thigh with only his teeth, sliding it slowly down over her white thigh high stockings, while everyone looked on, leering at her flesh, pointing and making uncouth hooting and hollering sounds. Like all the other men, my lustful eyes were riveted to the scene. Elizabeth played along, looking shy and somewhat embarrassed to be so exposed in front of the crowd, which was ironic due to the fact she appeared completely naked and performed sex acts without the slightest hesitation or inhibition during the two videos we made together. At least the movies we made were honest, in their own way. We didn’t pretend that they were anything other than exploitative erotic movies. Why then should a marriage celebration have in it a segment that masquerades as cheap and tawdry soft porn? Why should a newly married woman be treated like a cheap whore for the amusement and titillation of all her husband’s single friends? Everyone seemed to enjoy the objectification of Mrs. Richards. I seemed to be the only one, besides Elizabeth, that felt uncomfortable with it.
Jammed into the front of the smelly group of sweating bachelors, I wished I could escape. Eric turned his back to the single guys and threw the garter belt over his head. The men snatched at the frilly red elastic band like wolves clawing after red meat. The jostling bodies knocked me down to the floor. The belt fell innocently in the midst of the savages, as if in slow motion, and landed directly in front of me. I slowly picked it up, smelled the female scent unique to Elizabeth and pocketed the garter belt while the other men scrambled and pushed against each other on the dance floor trying to find it, like rats searching for table scraps. The drunken guys shoved at each other, checking each other’s back pockets and laughing. The MC kept screaming into the microphone, “Who caught the belt! Who caught the belt?” I walked away before anyone knew I had captured the treasure.
When I got back to my table a brandy appeared in a snifter and I sipped it. I regretted not eating more at dinner and began to feel like I was on the deck of a rocking boat. Grabbing the edge of the table to steady myself, I tried to stand, but the room started spinning. I used my napkin to dab cold water from my drinking glass onto my forehead and felt a little better.
The cake cutting ceremony had begun. They were up on a platform with an enormous three tiered white cake and Dr. Richards cut into it with surgical precision. Playing to the crowd for laughs, he decided to force Elizabeth to eat a big piece of cake by stuffing it into her mouth. Elizabeth backed away, clearly not amused. Didn’t he see that she didn’t find it particularly funny? I wished I could knock Dr. Richards to the ground and force a huge chunk into his mouth with the repeated blows of my fist. Eric wiped the cake frosting off the lips and cheek of his young wife. Dr. Richards handed the scalpel to one of the hotel staff and they started cutting the monstrous confection.
A few minutes later Deborah pulled me to the floor and I danced with the group of revelers. Even though I felt nauseous and dizzy I danced until sweat dripped down my brow. Everyone was given a shot of tequila and we downed it at the same moment. I pictured the wine, champagne, cognac and now tequila mixing into a toxic brew in my stomach.
Then I saw Elizabeth wave at me to come to her and I made my way between the bodies.
“Are you having a good time?” she shouted in my ear.
I nodded. We walked away from the danc
e floor and over to the bar where it was quieter.
“Thanks for coming to my wedding, Edward,” she said.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I replied.
“Would you like a glass of water?”
“OK.”
A long pause passed as we sipped our drink. Finally I came up with something to say.
“How was it, dancing with your father?”
“It was very emotional. I saw you in the crowd watching. Thanks for being there for me, Edward. It meant a lot to me.”
“Of course, I left you a present on the table where the gifts are. It’s some dishware that you had on your Macys gift registry.”
“Those were expensive! You didn’t have to do that. Thank you, Edward,” Elizabeth said.
“It’s my pleasure.”
She leaned forward and gave me a friendly kiss on the cheek. When her soft puffy lips made contact with my skin, I shivered, as if a bolt of electricity shot through my body. Elizabeth noticed the tremor in my body.
“You’re trembling, Edward. Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Well, the gift was very generous of you. I know that those plates must have cost you a lot of money.”
Another long awkward pause passed as we sipped our drinks. Elizabeth leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
“Hey. Whatever happened to Farnsworth’s last crazy movie? The one about the aliens.”
“I don’t know. I dropped out right after you did. It was no fun anymore without you,” I said, sadly.
“Come on, Edward. You’re depressing me at my own wedding.”
“Sorry, Elizabeth. I have a little headache.”
There was another long pause in our dialogue you could drive a truck through, as they say in the theater.
“Come on. Let’s get a picture of each other in the photo booth. For old time’s sake. Maybe that will cheer you up,” Elizabeth suggested.
“OK,” I said.
The photo booth was cramped, filled with funny hats and costumes to put on for the four snapshots in quick succession. Being in such close proximity to Elizabeth, smelling her intoxicating sweet scent and seeing the outline of her breasts through the lacey silk front of her wedding dress made me lose control. In the first shot she had wrapped a feathered boa around her neck and smiled, while I looked down. In the second shot she turned toward me smiling and I looked up in a drunken stupor at her. In the third shot I reached out to fondle her breasts and leaned in to kiss her as she pulled away from me. The fourth shot captured the moment right before her hand slapped me across my cheek. We stumbled out of the photo booth. Elizabeth ripped up the rectangular photos of the four pictures as it spit out of the machine before the booth attendant could see them.
She crumpled the shredded photographs in her fist and threw them away in a trash receptacle a few steps away.
“How could you, Edward? On my wedding day…” she said, trying to stay composed.
I felt humiliated.
“I know. I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I’ve had too much to drink.”
“That’s no excuse. That part of our relationship is over,” she whispered.
“I know. I know it is. Please forgive me,” I said with a bowed head, quietly.
“I think you should leave now.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.”
As I walked unsteadily away, I heard her voice fade.
“Edward, wait! I don’t think you should drive right now! Edward!”
I walked directly out the back exit of the hotel toward the beach, kneeled down and wretched violently into the sand. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and started walking down the beach with a stumbling gait. Suddenly I felt very thirsty. I walked back over the street, bought a bottle of water and then kept walking down the endless silver strand of coastline. After walking for a few hours I fell face first into the sand and passed out.
Chapter Sixteen
Deborah Steele
Hours later a lifeguard patrolling the beach at night spotted me on the sand and transported me in his jeep to a lifeguard station. From there I was taken, still unconscious, to a hospital. I had lost my shoes and my nice clothes were wet and ruined. I spent the evening in the hospital receiving IV fluids and I woke up the next morning with a tremendous headache to go along with my heartache. I was released and took the bus back to my apartment and slept the rest of the day. Later that night I woke up, looking for Elizabeth’s garter in my pockets, but I had lost it. I went for another long aimless walk around the city.
Three months later I got a call out of the blue from Deborah while I was working a lunch shift at Denny’s. She must’ve gotten my work number from Elizabeth. Deborah told me we had both been invited to the La Jolla home of Mr. and Mrs. Richards for brunch on Saturday and she asked me if I was free to attend. I said yes. Deborah asked me if I’d like a ride there. We made plans to meet downtown so I could catch a ride up the coastline with her. Since my only nice outfit had been ruined during my drunken stroll on the beach, I needed to find something appropriate to wear. As I was still paying off the hospital bills I accrued from my bender and had very little money, I poked around in various Goodwill stores for something half decent. I put the used clothes I bought through the wash to get the mothball smell out of them.
I met Deborah at the appointed time in the lobby of the fancy building where she worked downtown. Her sharp heels clicked on the floor as she approached me. She wore an attractive black business suit and gave me a hug.
“Hi, stranger,” she said.
“Hello, Ms. Steele.” I said.
“Listen to you, all formal and polite. Where on earth did you disappear to at the wedding? I wanted to get to know you a little more.”
“Oh. Well, it was getting late and I had to catch the last bus over the bridge.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“I did but it got towed away.”
“I would’ve given you a ride home if you’d only asked me, Edward.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“It would’ve been no bother, really.”
Deborah looked over my second-hand clothes.
“You look all retro, Edward. Where’d you get those clothes?”
“Goodwill. I’m a little tight on money lately.”
“Elizabeth tells me you’re an actor.”
“Yes.”
“Would I have seen you in anything around town?”
“Probably not. The shows I’m in are mostly at small theaters no one’s heard of.”
“Well I love the theater, Edward, so next time you’re in a show, let me know.”
“OK.”
We took the elevator down to the parking garage, got in her fancy convertible and pulled out into traffic.
“Thanks for the ride out to La Jolla. I’m not sure where they live,” I said.
“You’ve never been to their home?” she asked.
“No. I haven’t seen Elizabeth or Dr. Richards since the wedding.”
“Elizabeth has some big news to tell us. I tried to get it out of her, but she wouldn’t say a word.”
“Oh…” I said, wondering what it could be.
On the drive I imagined Elizabeth confessing to everyone over lunch that she made a tremendous mistake marrying Eric and she was still in love with me. Elizabeth threw herself into my arms and we ran off together to resume our passionate relationship. As we cruised up the 5 with the top down and my hair blowing in the California breeze, I drifted away into my fantasies.
“So, you work at Denny’s?” Deborah asked, bringing me back to reality.
“Yes,” I said.
We didn’t speak after that for the duration of the ride out to La Jolla. Working at such a miserable place was a real conversation killer, I suppose. I felt excited and nervous during the ride. My heart pounded in my chest in anticipation of seeing Elizabeth after so much time. I still felt embarrassed about trying to kiss her and touching her breasts at her wedding. I wondered if she’
d forgiven me by now. I hoped so. I know I was shit-faced, but that’s no excuse. I would make sure to apologize to her again.
We arrived at the majestic cliff side home of Mr. and Mrs. Richards, overlooking the ocean in La Jolla, located right across from the UCSD campus. I had never seen such an expensive home in my life, the kind of estate I imagined a movie star would live in.
Elizabeth didn’t appear to be angry with me at all. As soon as I arrived she gave me an affectionate hug even after what I did at her wedding and offered me a glass of mineral water. Eric took us on a tour and I felt his hand upon my shoulder, gently guiding me from room to room. As the ladies talked, Eric showed a genuine interest in my acting, asking me about my recent auditions. I began to feel badly about carrying around so much hatred for this man who took Elizabeth away from me. I decided to let the hatred go, let it all go. Elizabeth was clearly much better off with Eric.
We ended up relaxing on his spacious balcony, watching the sun sparkle off the water and the surfers catch their waves. Afterwards, Eric and Elizabeth showed us the photo album they had made of their honeymoon in the south of France. We ate a light lunch on the dinner plates I had purchased for their wedding, which Elizabeth proudly pointed out during the meal. After desert and coffee, Elizabeth finally made her big announcement.
“I’m pregnant!” she said with tears in her eyes.
Deborah squealed and gave her a big hug and I shook Eric’s hand and gave him my congratulations. I gave Elizabeth a hug, careful not to inappropriately touch any part of her body with mine. I told her how happy I was for her, hiding the fact that I actually felt more depressed than ever.
A few minutes later Deborah said she had to prepare for a case and use the rest room before leaving. I wandered out onto the balcony to get one last look at the ocean. Elizabeth followed me out and stood next to me. When I felt the wispy blonde hairs on her forearm brush up against my arm, I had the same intense physical reaction as when I first saw her at the audition. My heart raced, I felt dizzy and short of breath, all because she was standing near me.
“You know, you broke your promise to me, young man.”