by Emma Scott
“Hey, I’m in the same boat.”
She looped her arm through my elbow. “Oh, thank god. You’re mine.”
We stuck to each other at dinner too, and Tania told me all about working for the Chihuly Studio in Seattle.
“It’s incredible,” she said over clam chowder. “I wake up every morning thinking, Holy shit, this is my life now. Thanks, in no small part, to Jonah.” She leaned in close to me, her voice dropping. “Honestly—and I hate to even say this—but tomorrow is going to be hard without him here. The gaping hole in my life…it’s easier to ignore it in Seattle. But here, around all his old friends…” Her dark eyes trailed down the table, taking inventory of each guest. “I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for Oscar and Dena.”
My gaze trailed to the happy couple at the end of the long table. On Oscar’s left sat Theo, looking handsome in slacks and a dress shirt. No tie, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark ink swirling down to his wrists.
“And how are you?” Tania asked gently. “I heard you moved out of Vegas?”
She’d probably been too busy with her job to know too much about my situation, and part of me wanted to smile and make light of it. But my personal recovery plan was to be as honest as I could. With everyone.
“Yeah, I moved. I couldn’t hack it. I live in New Orleans now.” I stirred my soup. “That’s the sanitized version of what happened. The Black Plague version is, I ran out of town without telling anyone where I was going and spent the last six months in New Orleans, drunk off my ass.”
Tania’s eyebrows shot up, but then she nodded. “Okay.”
“Theo found me, dropped everything to help me sober up—and it wasn’t any goddamn picnic for him, I can tell you. Now I’m here, all dressed up for a wedding, instead of dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“I’m so happy you’re here.” Tania’s eyes glanced at Theo. “He’s a rock, that guy.”
“How so?”
She spooned a bite of soup then dabbed her napkin to her mouth. “You know I was Jonah’s assistant in the hot shop. Carnegie Mellon paid me to do that job. But for an installation the size Jonah envisioned, I didn’t think two people could complete it on time. I couldn’t be there every minute—I had my own classes at UNLV. So Theo stepped in. He’d never worked with glass before. Jonah and I showed him the basics, and it just clicked for him. The job needed to be done and he was going to do it. He just went for it. All in. And when the installation was finished, I got all the credit for the assist. I tried to get Theo to put his name on the paperwork for the Wynn show. Jonah tried. Hell, Jonah was about to do it without Theo’s permission. But Theo side-stepped us, went to Eme Takamura directly, and told her his name wasn’t to appear anywhere with relation to the installation.”
“Why wouldn’t he take any credit?”
Tania shrugged. “That’s just how he is. So it doesn’t surprise me in the least he dropped everything to fly to you when you needed him. It’s what he does. If there’s a job to do, he does it.”
I nodded, thinking about Theo being best man for Oscar. Jonah would have done it.
Tania had grown quiet. I saw her jaw work and her eyes fixed on the water glass in front of her.
I covered her hand with mine. “Hey.”
She smiled, not looking at me. “God, I miss him like hell.”
“I know.” The words held the deepest, hardest truth for everyone in this room.
I miss you, Jonah. We all miss you.
It was easy to feel like I suffered the most. To believe the bulk of the pain was mine to choke down—an enormous mouthful, while everyone else only had to chew little bites. But everyone who’d known Jonah had a plate of pain to swallow.
Every instinct screamed to change the subject before I started crying again, but instead I squeezed Tania’s fingers.
“Jonah couldn’t have finished the installation if it hadn’t been for you,” I said. “I know for a fact he considered you one of his best friends. He loved you like hell. That’s why you miss him like hell.”
“Thanks, Kace.” Tania smiled and swiped away a tear. “I know he did, but it’s nice when someone else says it.”
The next morning, we drove in a cavalcade of sedans to the Centennial Club, twenty minutes outside Albany. The club was a stately, 18th century manor, with many gables piercing its red roof. It sat on a huge field of grass, like an island floating on a flat, green sea.
Dena and her bridesmaids, along with her mother and grandmother, were ensconced in one wing of the big manor, while Oscar and his menfolk were on the other. The ceremony would be in the sprawling backyard that looked more like a football field, and the reception in the grand ballroom.
In the east wing, the bridesmaids slipped on our coral-colored dresses, while Dena had her hair and makeup tended to. The strapless dresses had crisscrossing folds over the bodice, cascaded to the floor in soft lengths of silk.
Dena's mother—an elegant-looking woman in a more modest dress the same shade of orange-pink as ours—fussed over her daughter, while Dena’s 80-year-old grandmother sat in a chair and watched. Both the mother and grandmother gave me a few side-glances, as did two of the bridesmaids I’d never met before.
I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. The tattoos swirling down my right arm and the guitar on the inside of my left wrist painted a stark contrast to the billowy pastel of the dress.
Dena approached me, her knowing, peaceful smile on her face. She looked radiant and far calmer than any bride-to-be I’d ever seen.
“Kacey,” she said softly. “You look beautiful.”
“That's my line. Dena…you’re stunning.” I rubbed my arms, as if I could rub out the tattoos just for today. “Not too sure the ink goes with the dress.”
Dena reached for the tray of hairdresser’s ribbons, pins and brushes, and took up a black silk rose. “Do you think I’d forgotten you had these tattoos when I picked out the dress?”
“No, but I can feel your grandmother staring,” I said. “I want this day to be perfect for you.”
Her grin widened as she affixed the silk flower behind my left ear. “Today will be perfect because the people I love are here, just as they are.”
I inspected myself in the mirror. None of the other bridesmaids had a black flower, but none of them had ink all up their arms, either. But I had to admit, the black rose was a perfect accessory, complementing my tattoos and bringing the whole look together.
Tania approached. “You’re the most badass bridesmaid I’ve ever seen,” she said, looking resplendent in her own dress. She linked her arm in mine. “Come on. It’s time to rock n’roll.”
We descended the stairs and a harried-looking wedding planner jostled us into place. Dena was like a cloud of calm, floating among us in her white silk dress, while the rest of us fluttered around her like nervous birds.
A cellist played Pachelbel’s Canon in D, and we took our turns marching out of the house and between the rows of white chairs set up on the lawn. Oscar and his groomsmen were already under a white awning, wreathed in green vines and pink flowers.
I took my turn down the aisle, paranoid my heels were going to dig too deep into the lush grass and send me sprawling in front of everyone.
How would that be for badass?
Oscar looked handsome in his tux but a bit petrified. My eyes found Theo standing beside him. In a tux.
Oh, wow…
He looked devastatingly handsome. His dark hair slicked back, his hands clasped in front of him where cufflinks glinted in the sun. His expression was flat with boredom, until he caught sight of me. His mouth fell open a little and his eyes widened.
I smiled at him, tried a little wave behind my small bouquet of white roses. Theo didn't respond but stared at me in that way he had, like he couldn't believe I was real. I thought he was playing around but as I neared my place on the platform, his stare hardened and then he suddenly looked away.
Okay, then.
The ceremony w
as the perfect length—not too short to make all the fuss seem excessive, and not too long that anyone grew impatient. Oscar and Dena exchanged traditional vows, then kissed as the sun sank beneath them. The crowd cheered and the procession returned to the house for the reception.
For the recessional, I was paired up with a buddy of Oscar's. Theo naturally escorted the Maid of Honor, who clutched his arm extra snugly, I noticed. She giggled something in his ear that he ignored.
Once inside the manor house, Theo ignored me, too. The bridal party took photos with Oscar and Dena, then we were free to enjoy the cocktails and hors d'oeuvres being served in a grand sitting room. A cellist played in the corner under the muted conversations of a hundred guests.
Over a little plate of snacks, Beverly gushed over Theo, Tania, and I. Henry made me promise to save him a dance, even though his eyes strayed to my tattoos more than once while we chatted. Theo didn't say a word.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Beverly asked. “Nervous for your toast?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess.”
I pulled him aside. “Hey. How you holding up? For real.”
“For real? I fucking hate giving speeches.”
“Picture everyone in their underwear. I hear that helps.”
“I picture everyone thinking, Jonah should be up there.”
The smile fell off my face like a paper mask. “Teddy,” I said softly.
“It was already hard without him here. I’m making it ten times worse.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
He glanced around darkly. “Isn’t it? It’s what I'm thinking. Jonah and Oscar were best friends. I’m like a bad stand-in.”
“That’s not true,” I said, gripping his arm. “We all miss Jonah, but no one thinks that you’re…”
“The consolation prize?” Theo said, meeting my eyes for the first time. “Forget it. I just want to get this over with.” He downed his flute of champagne and set it down on a small table.
“You’re going to do great,” I said.
His expression softened as he took in my dress, my hair, and then his gaze swept over my face. He looked about to say something, but changed his mind, his features hardening again. “Oscar should’ve picked someone else,” he said, and walked away.
I started to follow after, to tell him that Oscar picked him because he wanted him, but the wedding planner threw open the doors to the grand ballroom and the guests flowed in, carrying me on the current.
A collective gasp went up as we stepped inside. The wooden floors gleamed in the light of a dozen different sources—delicate chandeliers on the ceiling, sconces on the wall, and incredible centerpieces on each of the round tables. Flowers, silverware, and delicate porcelain place settings were simply arranged but incredibly elegant. I could see Dena’s hand in all of this. A round table swathed in shimmery red gold tablecloth, was laden with bowls of poppy seeds and rice, little cups of rice, black tea leaves and other seeds I couldn’t name. Silver platters held Baklava, rice cookies and almond cookies. A mirror in a silver setting and two candelabras made up the centerpiece. I overheard a man tell his partner that the mirror and candles represented light and fire.
“Light and fire,” I murmured to myself when I saw that my place card had me seated between Tania and Theo.
But my smile faded when it was clear Theo wouldn’t even look at me, and when he did, he squinted and looked away, as if I hurt his eyes. When it was time for his toast, he stood up with grim determination, a piece of paper from one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.
He’s a rock, I thought. He does the job.
The room grew hushed as Theo studied the words written on the paper. “Fuck this,” he muttered under his breath, and tossed the paper down, then faced the crowd.
“I’ve known Oscar for about twenty years,” he said. “Since we were kids. I met him through Jonah. For those of you who don't know who Jonah is, he was my brother and Oscar's best friend. For those of you who did know Jonah, you know I’d much rather be listening to him get up here and talk instead of doing it myself. I can’t help but feel he’s laughing at me wherever he is, because he knows how much I hate this kind of shit. Sorry.”
The crowd murmured laughter, and I thought I could feel a collective sigh of relief. As if the elephant in the room had been acknowledged.
“Oscar and Dena were made for each other,” Theo continued. “There’s not a whole lot more to say than that. She’s the calm to his storm, the poetry to his dirty jokes, the opera to his football game. Each fills the gaps in the other. They lift each other up and stick together when shit gets rough.” He coughed another ‘sorry’ and the audience laughed.
“But they have more in common than you think. They’re both the best people I’ve ever known. They’re both generous to each other, and to their friends. They have more love in their hearts than many people have in their little finger. We should all be as lucky to find someone who is the other half of ourselves. To be as a much of a matched set as Dena and Oscar.” He raised his glass. “Congrats, you guys. I’d say I hope you have a long and happy life together, but I don’t have to. I know you will.”
The guests made a resounding toast and Theo quickly sat back down.
I touched his arm. “That was perfect.”
He looked as if he were going to say something harsh to me, or maybe nothing at all. But he eased a sigh and nodded grudgingly. “Just glad it’s done.”
The DJ played, people ate and danced and laughed, and I tried not to think about how much I wanted Jonah to be there. How I tried not to look for him, or turn my head and expect to see him there, holding his hand out to me, asking me to dance.
Finally, I couldn’t take any more sitting and nursing the ache in my heart.
“Hey.” I tapped Theo’s shoulder. “You promised me a dance.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t feel like it.”
“Hey,” I said again, my voice cracking. “I miss him too.”
Theo looked at me then, his eyes softening the way they had earlier, but this time they stayed soft. “Yeah,” he said.
The DJ played Bryan Adams’ “Everything I Do.” I got to my feet and held out my hand. “Dance with me.”
Theo took my hand and let me pull him to his feet, but then he led me to the dance floor, cutting through the swaying couples to an empty spot.
His hand was heavy on my waist, and he held our clasped hands out stiffly so they floated in midair. That wasn’t going to cut it for me. I needed to hold and be held.
I moved in close, put my head on Theo’s chest, pulled our clasped hands in to rest on his heart. He stiffened, then relaxed against me, still strong and solid but molding his body to fit mine.
“That’s better,” I said, tucking my head under his chin where it fit perfectly.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It is.”
Theo
Thank God.
I didn’t know I needed this. Not until Kacey rested her head against my chest. A communion with another person in pain, the only other person on the planet who’d been as close to Jonah as I’d been.
I let my cheek rest against Kacey’s forehead. We turned in a slow circle, hardly moving, just holding each other. My body should’ve been rampaging with her pressed against me this way. But nothing sexual was in the warmth flooding me. Only comfort. This woman knew exactly how I felt. I didn’t have to say a word. I didn’t have to explain why I felt like shit, out of place, or why I’d spent the whole night listening for Jonah’s voice, straining to hear him among the crowd, craning my neck to see him laughing with Oscar.
He should’ve been here. To give the toast, to dance with our mother, with Dena, and especially with Kacey. It would’ve broken my damn heart, but I would have given anything in the world to look over and see Kacey wrapped in Jonah’s arms.
Instead, she was in mine, my body absorbing her peace like a sponge soaked up water. Part of me felt like a fraud. Like a con man. A consolatio
n prize.
The other part of me felt like I was home.
“This feels nice,” Kacey murmured. “Whenever I feel I’m coming apart, you always hold me together.”
“Same for me,” I said. “Right now…this feels good.”
She nestled closer to me and I held her tighter, not wanting the song to end. If I closed my eyes, I could shut out the world for a little bit longer. But I looked up and found Oscar staring at me, his eyes hard, his brows furrowed in confusion. As Kacey and I turned, I saw our table, where my parents were sitting. They were watching us dance, my father with pursed lips, and my mother with a nervous smile for me when our eyes met.
I pulled away from Kacey—unmolded myself from her body. The song ended at just that moment, but my sudden break startled her. She stared up at me, and whatever sense of peace she’d had during our dance seeped out of those incredible blue eyes and the real world—the one without Jonah—flooded back in.
“Sorry,” I muttered lamely. “Sorry, Kace… I…”
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “It was nice. For a few minutes, anyway, wasn’t it?”
I led her back to the table and she excused herself to use the restroom. Tania jumped up to go with her.
“It's so sweet of you to comfort Kacey like that,” my mom said. “She must be hurting so badly.”
I nodded, jaw clenched. All the old pain and anger came roaring back, burning up the last of my peace with Kacey. “Yeah,” I said, biting off each word. “She is.”
“You're wonderful to take care of her,” my mother said, looking relieved. “I know Jonah must be glad for that.”
“He is,” I muttered, easing a sigh, forcing myself to calm down. “I know he is.”
Because that's what I promised him: to take care of Kacey.
The other half of Jonah's promise had never felt more impossible to keep.
Tania and Kacey came back from the bathroom just in time for the bouquet throwing. Kacey tried to refuse, but Tania tugged her arm. “It’s just silly fun. Or in my case, it’s looking for all the help I can get.”
