Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Standing off next to him, I spot his fiancé Bobby.
Sweet, sensitive, supportive, adoring Bobby.
While Jimmy Strong continues doing what he’s best at—being Jimmy Strong—Bobby politely stands back with a sweet smile on his face. He takes sips from a modest glass of water, now and then joining in on the laughter of their friends, but always sinking back into this state of distant contentment, like an onlooker peering in. It’s the strangest thing, watching him from across the room, and wondering if somehow, in some way, we completely understand each other in this moment.
“Are you alright, Malcolm?” Even Cole’s voice sounds like it’s smiling pleasantly. “Do you need anything? They’re bringing out bread now.”
“Wine’s doing me just fine. Thanks.” I continue observing the grooms from afar, gnawing on my thoughts.
Occasionally, the room flashes from the lightning through the windows like paparazzi, followed by delayed, threatening booms. No one pays the storm any damned mind. All I hear is silverware tinkling. Every three seconds, someone’s aunt or grandma cackles with piercing laughter. I squint at the room like a bitter cat from a high-up perch and take another sip of wine.
“More please,” I murmur as the guy comes around—again.
Cole smiles pleasantly at me.
More people take their seats now as the food starts to arrive. I taste my father’s cooking, and it only makes me sad. I can’t help but think of last night and this morning, all the words we shared, all the countless ways in which I have totally not been helping my father through his emotional baggage these past few years. Aurora should be here. Not me. She’d know how to help Dad cope.
Jimmy says another funny thing. His table erupts in laughter.
I take another sip of wine.
It’s becoming a drinking game.
“Do you have any plans for after this?”
I’m trying another bite of food, determined to have just one mouthful that doesn’t make me sad. “Movie date, I thought …?”
“Sorry.” Cole shakes his head. “I meant after the wedding. For Christmas. Once all of this is over and you’re free. Are you going back to Fairview?”
I squint across the room at Jimmy, who’s reaching over Bobby to get a saucer of butter. Bobby makes a face that looks like he’s biting lemons. My eyes are growing watery and tired.
“In a heartbeat,” I answer.
“Oh. Hm.” He clears his throat, sets down his fork, then picks it right back up. “I was wondering if you’d like to—”
“I just don’t see it.”
He faces me, worried. “You don’t see it? Us …?”
“Jimmy and Bobby.”
“Oh.” He laughs. “I thought you meant … I thought you were talking about …” He gestures between us, then shakes his head and drops his hand. “Never mind, sorry. Jimmy and Bobby, you said?”
“Jimmy is such a showboat. He’s obnoxious and, and—” I take a sip of wine as I gather my thoughts. They’re coming slower. “He has nothing in common with him. With Bobby. Sweet Bobby.”
Cole glances nervously at the other occupants of our table. “I think it’s, uh …” He leans in. “It’s maybe in bad taste to talk about the grooms that way at their wedding, don’t you think?”
“This isn’t the wedding. It’s the rehearsal. And shouldn’t we rehearse what a drunk aunt or uncle might say when asked what they really think of this sham union?”
“Malcolm …”
“I’m not the only one thinking it.” I catch eyes with a woman and her disapproving face sitting at a neighboring table. Can she seriously hear me? “You’re thinking it, too, right?” I ask her.
She turns away, eyes wide.
I don’t know who she is, and no one cares.
“Maybe we could, um …” Cole clears his throat again, puts on a pleasant smile, then lowers his voice even more. “Maybe we could step out for a bit, collect our thoughts, take a breath …”
“Step out? In this weather?”
“Just outside the room. No one’s in the chapel. Or the little front lobby. We could just slip out, relax, talk—”
I’m not sure what else Cole is saying, because quite suddenly I find I’ve made eye contact with Jimmy himself. For a moment, he seems rather surprised that I’m here, as if forgetting I’m attending this whole thing at all. His eyes gloss over. Someone is talking to him, but he isn’t paying attention during this moment we are now sharing, this moment which seems to tune out the world. It’s just me, just him, and the storm brewing in this room that has nothing to do with the one on the other side of those flashing windows.
Then Bobby touches his hand. The trance is broken. Jimmy looks at his fiancé, the two share a kiss, and I’m forgotten.
I set down my glass a touch harder than intended, cutting off something Cole is saying. “Y’know what’s even more funny about all of this? Jimmy and I used to be playmates. Like, when we were eight or nine, maybe. He even slept over at my house. It was just one time, and it wasn’t only him, it was a slumber party thing for one of my birthdays, I can’t remember.” I wipe my eyes. They’re still watery and unfocused. “I think he’s hated me ever since.”