Free for the Wedding

by Briggs, Laura

  Her words didn’t have quite the effect she hoped for, since Heather all but rolled her eyes in response.

  “I know. For a guy so involved with sports he’s really sensitive. All that jazz about me answering some love note he wrote in eighth or ninth grade or whatever it was. He’s totally obsessed with it, like it would even matter if he wrote me a note when we were kids."

  She took a nonchalant sip from her coffee, her gaze trained past Val’s shoulder to the café’s glass front as if seeing something other than her reflection in the glass.

  “So you think he made it up?” Val kept her voice casual, though her cheeks burned. This was dangerous territory, even if was all a misunderstanding. Instead of a lie, her conscious interrupted. You know, the little act of forgery you committed way back when?

  “Made it up?” Her friend seemed taken aback by the question. After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders carelessly. “I don’t know. I mean, Jason thinks he wrote that note and that I wrote one back, but all that was so long ago. Who really remembers what kind of silly stuff we did? I think he had a crush on Angela Mervin back then. Who knows if it was even me he wrote it for?”

  I do. Val shrank down in her chair as the waiter paused to take a second round of orders. Her slender friend choosing an éclair, as Val shook her head politely.

  When the waiter had gone again, she found herself renewing the topic. Against her better judgment and reason, as if compelled to explore it, to savor the sweet half of the memory instead of the bitterness connected with it.

  “What was it Jason said on the phone again?” she asked. “Something about you two being destined for each other? Like that note he gave you was some kind sign.” She shielded her face with the Styrofoam cup as she waited for Heather to give voice to the words, reminding her of how it felt to read them the first time.

  “It’s kind of a cute notion,” Heather admitted, a funny smile curving her lips. “But it’s not as dramatic as he makes it sound. I mean, there was a spark between us at the reunion, but destiny seems kind of exaggerated.”

  She took a long sip from her coffee, then looked at Val as she spoke. “What about you? I know you’ve played the dating scene for awhile now–anybody special?”

  “I’m kind of too busy for relationships right now,” said Val, vaguely. Thinking with quiet regret of the banker, a nice guy who didn’t have a chance of holding her attention after Jason’s rattling phone call. Their lackluster dinner at the Italian restaurant wasn't followed by an invitation for a second one as he hailed her a cab.

  “You should have more fun,” said Heather, with the authority of someone who had already done so. A slightly wistful note in her voice, her fingers absently twisting the engagement diamond on her left hand.

  Glancing up again, she asked, “So, Val, you’ll be there for me, right? At the resort in Virginia, I mean–the one where the wedding is scheduled. We’re inviting some of the old school gang to show up early and celebrate how we got together. I know you weren't there, but, I mean, you were originally...”

  “Oh…I don’t know yet–” Val paused, fishing for any good reason to say no. Finding none, since her work calendar was clear after the e-Volution conference was finished. The agency owed her more vacation days than any sane person should be allowed to accumulate, meaning she would be lying if she said time off was an impossible commodity right now.

  “C’mon,” prompted Heather. “You’re always free for these emergencies. It’s what made you such a great friend in school. The best, actually.” Reaching to give her hand a sisterly squeeze, a pleading look on her face.

  Val knew the inevitable was coming, the same old story that defined her life so many times before. Cue the lights, set the stage, and she was ready to step into the well-played role. Plastering on a smile, she said, “I’ll try to be there. No promises, but I’ll try.”

  As the World’s #1 Sidekick prepared to strike again.

  *****

  Contrary to popular belief, Heather wasn’t a member of the popular crowd at Dover Middle School. Or at Wardruff High, either, where the gap became more noticeable with age. Not that she was considered a nerd (she wasn’t) or that boys didn’t notice her (some did), but rather she was somewhere in between. Bubbly and cute, with a friendly edge that made her accessible to all her classmates whatever their social status. If they wanted a seatmate at the movies or a study partner, that is.

  This list of friends included Jason Cotter, who technically had a free pass to the cool crowd since he was athletic. Also because he was cute, with his tousled hair and easygoing smile, his skin tanned from weekends at Bowers Beach. He was only the team’s wide receiver, though, and not as broad or burly as the quarterback–the official school heartthrob.

  He joined them for lunch one day, looking at Heather and talking to Valarie as he ate fries and a cheese sandwich. At first, they were both mystified and incredibly elated by his attention.

  "He sat with us–he actually sat with us!" Heather whispered. "Is there, like, something wrong with the team's health?"

  With her lusterless hair and bulky form, fourteen year-old Val was used to guy’s glances sliding past her the way they might a lamp post, so this event held special meaning for her. Especially when he came back the next day.

  “So how about that pop quiz in Grammar today?” Jason would ask, hooking his book bag over the chair as he joined their table of semi-nerdy teens. His gaze cutting in their direction, shy and meaningful, a friendly invitation to answer him as the two girls whispered in a moment of gossip.

  Gossip gave way to actual conversation. Conversation at lunch became the basis for a study group, for mutually hanging out, for sitting close in the classroom and being friends outside school.

  Val didn’t mind that he admired her friend more. After all, who didn’t notice Heather, with her cute features and cheerleader-type enthusiasm? Secretly, however, she hoped he might come to recognize her own qualities. Be struck by her inner beauty or something. Or that he would suddenly discover he preferred modest brunettes to adorable blondes.

  For awhile, these hopes didn’t seem completely fantastical. If Jason saw her alone in the study hall, he would drop into the chair across from her for and strike up a casual conversation. The same if he bumped into her at the school library, where he commented on her selection of books and mentioned The Giver was the deepest thing he ever read.

  Once at the gymnasium pool, he saw her struggling to master the front crawl.

  “You have to kick one leg upwards and the other down. Like this,” he told her, diving in to demonstrate. His flat-muscled body navigating the depths like an expert, as she tried to keep her own form and its unflattering one-piece concealed beneath the waters. For the first time, she felt him physically touch her–lifting her up into a floating position as he watched the form of her kick.

  “Do you think Heather likes anyone–I mean any of the guys at our school?” he asked her as they huddled by the poolside wrapped in big beach towels.

  When she looked at his face, she saw her worst fears in this world of fourteen years and counting. His eyes told her he already had hopes for what the answer would be.

  “I don’t think she’s mentioned anybody,” Val had answered. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, since Heather had told her more than once that boys in real life just couldn’t compete with her admiration for certain celebrities' qualities.

  This answer seemed to pacify Jason’s curiosity. He didn't say anything else about it as they talked about the upcoming football game before moving on to their respective lockers. Where Val had sat on a damp bench beneath the glare of florescent lights, her whole body tingling with the dread of what she knew was coming, now that the question had been asked.

  He continued to join the two friends at their lunch table and to walk with them to mutual classes. Sometimes, he even invited them to join a group of his cooler friends, football players and trendsetters, who gathered at the pizza hangout or the beach for a volleyball
party.

  Heather fit into these scenarios well. In the bikini she persuaded her mom to let her wear, the tan from countless afternoons of weeding the lawn, she looked the same as the high school fashionistas and the cheerleader who so evidently had a crush on Jason. Laughing, sliding in the sand, serving the ball with a perfect shot only to be tackled by one of the football players present, whose gesture earned a scowl from Jason.

  Val sat by in all of this, on a beach blanket in her pink and black one piece suit. Donning a pair of sunglasses to look cool–or maybe mysterious–as she watched the slender and athletic show off their prowess in the sand until the mother chaperoning this gathering declared the party at an end.

  But it was with Val that Jason seemed to spend the most time. Becoming her lab partner in science class and borrowing CDs from her extensive pop/rock collection. To be a musician, he told her, was the second coolest thing to being an athlete.

  At the time, he was sitting on her living room sofa–Jason, in the flesh, in her living room!–one arm draped casually along the sofa's back as he studied the lyrics in the CD's liner notes. She sat perched on the nearest armchair, hugging her denim-clad knees in what she hoped looked like a nonchalant pose.

  “Absolutely,” she agreed with his words. In her mind, picturing him in a leather jacket and ripped jeans as he pounded a wild rhythm from electric guitar strings. Just like the rock bands she strained her eardrums listening to on the stereo above her bed.

  One morning the week before summer break, Jason took the seat next to her on the school bus. A nervous smile flickered on his face as he glanced round at the seats behind them. “Where’s Heather?” he asked.

  “Sick,” Val replied. Which really meant that savvy Heather had slipped a thermometer against the bulb in her desk lamp in order to play hooky for a day. She was planning to persuade her older sister to take her to stand in line for concert tickets since their mother had promised to take her and Val to see Paula Abdul as a birthday present.

  Jason's face grew clouded. Nothing else was said on the ride, though she was dying to ask him what he thought of the Pearl Jam album he borrowed from her the day before. She sensed he was thinking hard about something, his fingers tapping against his knee in a trademark gesture which made her worry that something else was on his mind.

  She didn’t see him in science class that afternoon, the seat beside her empty. Was it possible he was angry at her for some reason? Upset with Heather for skipping class? But why, unless–she didn't think any further about it as she fought back tears. The rest of the class jotted notes on cell division.

  Worries continued to linger, weighing her mind as she opened her locker later that day. There was no one else left in the hall, her heart jumping at the sound of footsteps. She turned to see Jason approach, a hesitant look on his face. In his hand, a small piece of paper, folded.

  “Jason–hi.” Her heart fluttered, her mind imagining all sorts of directions for this scenario. A note of apology, perhaps. An appreciative letter thanking her for the CD loans, the long conversations between them.

  He held it out. “Could you give this to Heather for me?" he asked. "Tell her she can write her answer and send it back–if she wants.” She could hear the nervousness in his voice. The way he shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly couldn't hide the fact that he was tense and aloof beneath his blue t-shirt and backpack.

  Val nodded dumbly. Inside, she was quaking with the knowledge of what must be written on this slip of paper. The envelope balanced in the palm of her hand, she watched as he turned and strolled away down the hall.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The same note, faded and yellowed with age, lay in front of Val almost thirteen years later. Her fingers gently brushing its paper surface among the box of childhood mementos scattered across her bed. Items that had long been confined to the top shelf of her closet and consigned to the past.

  Except now, when certain recent announcements brought the past crashing back down on her. Two weeks after her coffee date with the bride-to-be, she still hadn’t shaken the feeling that something wasn’t quite right between Heather and Jason. Something was missing.

  Was it only wishful thinking? Some vestige of her childhood crush that made it seem as if the foundation for their engagement was shaky at best? Or was she picking up on some hidden problem, some unspoken truth beneath the surface of smiles and common interests?

  Groaning, she flopped over on the comforter. The pile of mementoes, a series of papers and photos circa 1990s, shifted with the sudden movement. Most were destined for a scrapbook or for the garbage, eventually. The note from Jason, however was in a league of its own.

  She couldn’t throw it away, but she couldn’t share it with anyone else. What had only been a girlish mistake, the impulsive decision of a love struck teen all those years ago was now suddenly a symbol of importance to the fate of three different lives.

  Because as much as she hated to admit it, Val’s own well-being was tied up in the consequences. Those words symbolized a turning point in her life, the first time anyone ever broke her heart. First love and first rejection wrapped into the events of a single spring semester and the lines on a piece of paper which were intended for another's eyes.

  Whether her heart was in danger of breaking again for the same reasons, she couldn’t yet say.

  Carefully, she unfolded the sheet of paper. Her eyes following the rhythm of the jerky, boyish handwriting:

  Dear Heather,

  You probably think of me as just a friend, and I guess I’m lucky to even be that. But with someone as great as you, I can’t help hoping for something more.

  When I’m around you, everything just seems better. I know you’ve probably heard this a million times before, but you really are the prettiest, most fun girl I’ve ever met. I know we don’t have tons in common, but that doesn‘t matter at all to me. I think I could enjoy anything if you were with me.

  This may seem really fast, since we haven’t known each other very long. I know everyone will say we’re too young to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but I really think we’re meant to be.

  Do you feel at all the same about me? I hope you do, or that maybe you could someday. Let me know what your answer is whenever you’re ready.

  Your truly,

  Jason

  Juvenile, yes. Naïve and idealistic when viewed as a grownup–absolutely.

  But part of her longed to pretend the note was meant for her. Their friendship blossoming into the unlikely romance she always used to envision, with Jason realizing that those hours of talking and studying together were the foundation for something deeper.

  The first time she read these words, she had wanted them to be addressed to her.

  *****

  The seventh time Val unfolded and read the note, it was as painful as the first time. She hadn't seen Heather immediately after school, instead going straight home and upstairs to her room. There, in privacy, she unfolded it and read it. The disappointment sinking into her bones, the visions of a slow and meaningful connection between herself and Jason dissolving like cotton candy in the rain.

  At the sound of the front door, then footsteps pounding on the staircase, she shoved the note hastily out of sight beneath her study binder. Her bedroom door swung open as her best friend flounced in and promptly took a seat at the dressing table.

  “So what did I miss at school today?” Heather asked, inspecting her already perfect lipstick in Val’s mirror. Her slender figure was dressed in a trendy belted shirt and pink leggings. "Can I copy your notes from Mr. Sherman's class?" Her lips forming a pouty kiss towards her reflection, followed by her fingers refreshing the coat of glossy pink from her lip balm tube.

  “Oh…it was just the usual lecture. You know, just stuff from the chapter readings.” Val’s face burned with the lie, her gaze dropping to the binder, where a corner of the note peeked out from beneath.

  She should give it to her, of course. Should tell Heather how lucky she was to have an
admirer like Jason, then wait to cry into her pillow after her friend had left.

  So why was she practically sitting on her binder, as if to guard its secret with her body?

  “Can I copy your notes anyway?” Heather asked, sending a surge of guilt through her. “If I bomb another history test my parents will kill me. Dad is actually threatening to send me to summer camp if I don’t make a B average.”

  She turned and favored Val with a radiant smile. “Thanks again for doing that extra credit math problem for me. I’m such a ditz and there was no way I ever would’ve passed without it.”

  “No problem,” said Val, shrugging. "What are friends for?" For cheating at math, for stealing love notes after a certain guy likes another girl more. A dull ache filled her chest, her breath constricted as if a heavy object rested there.

  All this time he was just trying to get to know Heather. He was just hanging out with me to get to her. With this thought, a fresh wave of disappointment engulfed her. Even when it was just the two of them, Heather had been inserted into every conversation, or so it seemed to her now. What kind of music did Heather like? he asked. What did she do on weekends, what college did she plan to go to, what big plans did she have in life?

  How could she be so stupid as to miss the biggest neon arrow in the history of the universe? She wasn’t angry, at least not at Jason or Heather. Angry at herself, yes. Hurt and embarrassed for ever letting herself believe it was anything else than that the two of them were meant to be.

  Heather, meanwhile, was rooting through her scant makeup collection. “Do you have any silver eye shadow?” she asked, not bothering to turn back around as she riffled through the top drawer. “I saw this Seventeen article on how to get this cool smoky effect. It’ll make us look, like, five years older.”