“So, where’s Mr. Wonderful?”
“See that group of women huddled over there?” I point in the direction of the mosh pit assembled around Justin. “He’s somewhere in there.”
Brad laughs ... he knows my family well enough not to be surprised by their behavior, only amused.
“Well,” he says, “I’m the guest of honor here tonight and I want to meet him ... so let’s break up the ladies.”
He extends his arm to me and I take it (keeping my glass of champagne in the other), and we make our way over to rescue Justin.
Brad is good with my family and good with rowdy crowds (the spectators at the extreme-sporting conventions he usually covers for Extreme Outdoor magazine have prepared him for anything), so he thinks nothing of arming his way to the middle of the circle and extending a hand toward Justin.
“Great to finally meet you.”
Justin is amazing; he doesn’t miss a beat. “Brad Lawson. Molly swears I shouldn’t be jealous, but she sure speaks highly of you.”
Brad beams at Justin and then at me for a moment. It’s not hard to win him over ... he’s truly such a softie.
“Let’s go get you a drink. I want to hear all about you ... and in return, I’ll tell you all about Molly’s college days.”
“Sounds like a plan. Ladies, I will be back.”
The girls moan like teenagers at a rock concert, but hardly give the boys a chance to cross the room before they turn their attention on me. Oh jeez! I liked it better when Justin was in the firing line!
My mother jumps in first. “Molly, he’s wonderful!”
Jamie seconds her emotion. “He really is, Molls. I’m thrilled for you!” And she actually squeals.
And then, before I can believe it, all my friends are saying how great he is. They actually all love him! I am beyond thrilled. Step one of the plan is going off without a hitch!!
I relay the story of how we met and all the wonderful dates we’ve had so far. It’s so much fun ... and I even catch Claire throwing an extremely annoyed look at our somewhat noisy corner of the room, which only adds to my joy. After sharing every single detail (and even making up some new ones—I decided our song should be, “Just the Way You Look Tonight”), I excuse myself from the crowd to go find Justin and congratulate him on an exquisite performance.
I spot him at the bar, still with Brad, and make my way over. I walk up and slide my arm around Justin’s waist. It feels slightly strange to do this, because in a lot of ways he’s still a stranger, but I know it’s little details like this that will prevent any doubt from forming in anyone’s head. I notice Brad look at my arm around Justin’s waist for a second before greeting me.
“Hey there, we were just getting to know each other a bit. Don’t tell me you were having separation anxiety?”
I laugh at his joke, albeit a strange joke. “Nope ... just wanted to be certain you weren’t divulging too many secrets.”
“Don’t worry,” Justin assures me, “Brad has only had the nicest things to say about you.”
I beam at Justin for a moment, thrilled at how well this is going, and he beams back ... we’re actually having fun. It’s like performance-theater for him, and it’s like a dream come true (again, minus the sex) for me.
“Justin, could you get my champagne refilled while I find out what Brad really thinks of you?” I say with a wink.
We all have a good chuckle and Justin turns toward the bar while Brad and I head onto the dance floor. Brad and I dance in silence for a few minutes; Brad is a fantastic dancer ... his mother forced him to attend cotillion as a kid and it really paid off. Finally I can’t stand it anymore.
“So? He’s awesome, right?”
“Shhh ... I love this song.”
I’m a little dumbfounded, but okay. I listen to the music and—wouldn’t you know it?—it’s “Just the Way You Look Tonight.” Crap. I look over at Justin and he’s talking to my mother and sister again. Shoot ... please let nobody notice that this is the song I proclaimed to be “ours.” When the song finally ends and some other danceable tune begins to play, Brad finally starts talking.
“I think he seems fake, Molly.”
My heart skips a beat, “You do? Everyone else loves him.”
“I dunno. Something doesn’t feel right about him. There is something I can’t put my finger on.”
The sincerity and concern in his voice causes a moment of extreme guilt on my part that I am telling this lie, but it is quickly replaced with a feeling of panic because Brad really likes everybody. I mean, obviously he’s not super picky about personalities if he’s marrying Claire.
“Maybe you’re just being overprotective because you’ve seen me get hurt before,” I say, trying to convince him.
“It could be. Just be careful. Really keep your eyes open and watch your back.”
“I will, I promise,” I say as I settle back in the comfortable rhythm of Brad’s lead.
We dance the rest of the song and my mind is racing about what Justin could have said to tip Brad off. I’m thinking so hard I don’t notice Claire come up and physically pull Brad’s arm off my waist. When I look up and see her, she looks pissed and Brad looks like a deer caught in headlights.
“We were just dancing,” he explains lamely ... which, if you ask me, is clear to anyone with eyes.
“Do you have any idea how it looks for you to be dancing with her at our engagement party?” She motions at me.
“Like he has friends?” I pipe in, trying to be helpful.
Claire gives me one of her death glares and I shrug and walk away as she scolds Brad. I have bigger things to worry about at this point. As I’m walking off the dance floor, I hear Claire reprimanding Brad. He’s such a weenie when it comes to her ... he doesn’t even try to defend himself. It’s no surprise that he can’t put his finger on something wrong with Justin ... he can’t seem to see Claire’s faults at all!
I walk up to where Justin is chatting with my mother and sister.
“Hey, sweetie,” he says as he hands me my champagne and kisses my head. Damn ... the guy is good. My mom and Jamie look at each other like they are about to melt.
“That Claire is a pistol, huh?” he asks, looking out onto the dance floor where Brad and Claire are now dancing. She’s leading and still telling him off.
“She’s the devil,” I whisper in his ear. Since her family is hosting the party, I can’t be too open about my feelings.
He nods in understanding and Jamie nods, too.
“It’s sad that all of us have found such wonderful people and he is with her.”
We all nod sadly and I feel a rush of warmth. I snuggle a little closer to Justin; I’m someone who has found a wonderful person—at last!
“Come on, Molly, let’s dance.” Justin takes my hand and leads me out to the dance floor. I look back at my mother and sister, and I swear my mother wipes a tear from her eye!
“You are an amazing actor!” I whisper in his ear.
Justin laughs a little and smiles warmly at me. “It’s not really acting—I do think you’re great ... I’m just embellishing.”
We dance quietly for a few minutes and let me tell you, Justin makes Brad seem like he has two left feet. Forget attending cotillion—Justin must have been professionally trained.
“You’re an amazing dancer, too.”
“Just another perk of having a gay boyfriend.”
We both chuckle, just a little.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. ‘Just the Way You Look Tonight’ is our song, ’kay?”
“When did we decide that? Your mom asked me why I was letting Brad steal you away for our song and I was so confused ... I thought I remembered all the details we decided on.”
“We didn’t,” I admit. “I just got a little carried away and told everyone.”
“That’s okay,” he laughs, “I did that, too. I told your sister I’m into yoga, which I am, but then I added that I’ve been giving you lessons and now she wants to join u
s. So, I’ll have to show you some yoga moves this week.”
“Okay,” I agree. “I’ve always wanted to try yoga anyway.”
For the rest of the evening, Justin waits on me hand and foot. That is, when he’s not dancing with my mother (since my father refuses) or my sister (since she complains too much about Bryan’s dancing so he won’t go near her on a dance floor). I dance with Bryan (he’s no Justin ... he’s not even a Brad, but we have fun), hang out at the bar in the restaurant’s front area with my dad where he has managed to, as always, find a television playing sports, and get to wave at Brad from across the room twice. The dinner is good, and the wine is a bit too free-flowing.
By the end of the evening, I’m quite tipsy. I kiss my family and friends good-bye, Justin kisses all the girls (on the cheek, of course), and shakes hands with all the men. It is clear that he has won everyone over ... even my dad! I go to say good-bye to Brad while Justin makes plans to get together with everyone over the next couple weeks. I finally find Brad, totally hammered, at the bar.
“Hey, we’re leaving.”
“NO! Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
“You’re smashed, my friend. When can you get outta here?”
“I dunno.” His chin drops down to his chest. “I hate this shit.”
“What?”
“These fake events, all these fake people.”
I feel my cheeks flush as he emphasizes “fake.” Little does he know, I am quickly becoming the queen of it.
“You’d better get used to it—it’s preparation for the wedding.”
He looks up, into my eyes, “I love you, Molly.”
“I love you, too, Bradley. Drink lots of water tonight, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No, Molly ... wait.”
I giggle for a second at his drunken slurring. “It was a lovely engagement party,” I lie through my teeth.
For a second I think Brad looks crestfallen ... I swear, that woman is squashing his spirit. I kiss him on the head and head toward the door.
“Molly!” he calls after me and I turn around, “Just be careful.”
“Don’t worry, silly.”
I turn back and Justin is waiting for me at the door, waving at Brad. Brad gives him a kind of drunken wave/send-off and Justin and I leave the party, holding hands.
In the cab on the way home, Justin can’t stop talking about how great everyone is. And he has made plans for us to go out with just about everyone in the coming weeks! He bonded with my mom over dancing, Jamie over teaching prenatal yoga, and even Bryan over eating paste in third grade! I can’t help but beam at him.
I’ve never had a straight boyfriend that my family loved so much!
We laugh and recount all the funny anecdotes of the evening all the way back to my apartment. When the cab pulls to the curb, Justin asks the driver to wait a minute and I get the cold reminder that he isn’t a real boyfriend and that I have to go upstairs alone. He walks me to the door and gives me a warm but purely friendly hug. Then he stands back and looks at me with a slightly uncomfortable face. It takes a second for me to realize what it is ... duh ... he wants to get paid. I open my purse and hand him the money.
“Thanks,” I say, “you were perfect.”
“I think we’re in great shape, Molly. After all the plans we have made to see your family and friends, I don’t think anyone will object to our quick engagement.”
I smile at him and agree, then give a little wave as I make my way through the door and he heads back to the cab.
Upstairs, alone in my apartment ... well, alone except for my loyal Tiffany, I start to feel really sad, but I’m really surprised at what I am sad about. Not being reduced to hiring a fake fiancé, not lying to my beloved friends and family, but sad that I am losing Brad. Seeing him miserable and wasted at his own engagement party had more of an effect than I realized while I was in the cloud of excitement over Justin’s success.
Brad and I have shared everything for over a decade, and now I see that I won’t have him. I mean, I assume Claire will allow us to remain friends ... at least acquaintances ... I hope, but there won’t be any more middle-of-the-night calls, or watching Survivor over the phone, or going out for pancakes for dinner. This isn’t right! It’s an injustice!! I bawl myself to sleep and vow to try to rescue Brad in the morning.
9
Rescuing Brad, Part One
When I wake up I have a plan. Don’t worry! It’s not another crazy scheme ... I won’t be hiring anyone I saw advertised in the paper. I am going to be mature and adult ... and convince Brad to see the truth about Claire and call off the wedding. I call his apartment and immediately a glitch is thrown into my strategy when Claire answers his phone.
“Jeez, Molly. It’s the morning after our first engagement party. Can’t you give us some privacy?” CLICK.
“What the fuck?!?” I ask Tiffany.
Did that seriously happen? Number one: they aren’t married yet ... should she be answering his phone? Number two: their first engagement party? How many do you get? Seriously ... how many? (Mental Side Note: I must look into how many engagement parties a couple gets ... I’m not completely objecting to more than one.) And number three: who is rude enough to hang up like that on someone? Answer to number three is: Claire. Number two I’ll have to do some research about. Number one baffles me. So, I call Justin.
“Good morning, Girlfriend,” he greets me ... calling each other Boyfriend and Girlfriend is kind of an inside joke that also happens to increase the validity of our romance, since people in love tend to invent stupid pet names and call each other stuff like that.
“Hey there, Boyfriend. What are you up to today?”
“I was going to call and see if you wanted to meet for a low-fat muffin at ‘our place.’”
We also started calling Starbucks “our place,” which follows the same strategy I explained above.
“I can be there in twenty minutes looking crappy or one hour looking fabulous. Which will it be?”
“I’ll see you in twenty.” CLICK.
See, I’m not totally sensitive to people hanging up on me. “’Bye” isn’t always necessary—this hang-up didn’t bother me one bit.
I throw on sweats and head over to Starbucks. When I walk in, Justin is waiting at “our table” with my nonfat latte in hand.
“You are the best,” I inform him.
We spend a good part of the morning sitting in Starbucks people-watching and outfit-critiquing. It’s always been one of my favorite things to do, and it turns out Justin loves to as well.
Then we decide to “exercise.” AKA: go for a walk through the park.
“So,” I say, “I had a Claire run-in this morning.”
I tell him about my decision the night before to try and break them up and my phone call to Brad’s apartment and her rude hang-up. I expect Justin to share my shock and disdain and help me think of a way to get to Brad without having to go through Claire, but he railroads me!
“Molly, I think breaking them up is a bad idea.”
“What?”
“I think it’s too late ... he’s gotta figure it out on his own. He’s in too deep.”
“But he can’t see the evilness!”
“I know ... don’t get me wrong—I completely agree that he shouldn’t marry her, but at this point it’s too risky that you’ll ruin your own friendship.”
“But with Claire in the picture the friendship is ruined anyway.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. You’re kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“Figures. What do you think I should do?”
He really isn’t any help at all. We hmmm and haaa over the situation until Justin needs to go home and get ready for work.
“I’m working late tonight, so I’ll just call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, have a good night at work,” I say as I hand him a smaller payment. Big events like the engagement party last night cost more than quick coffee runs. He silently t
akes the money and nods a thank-you ... it’s more comfortable than making a big deal out of it, even though it always feels a little weird. I have to fight this urge to look over each shoulder before handing him money, as though I am doing something illegal.
We part ways and I wander around the park a while longer, thinking about how to handle the Brad situation. Justin’s comment that Brad is “in too deep” keeps replaying in my head. Does that mean I should help him get out or it’s too late?!? I keep going back and forth. Believe it or not, dusk starts to fall and I am still not sure.
I start to head home and realize how starving I am. A low-fat cranberry peach muffin can only hold a girl so long. I stop for a slice of pizza at a favorite place that just happens to be on my way home ... if I walk three blocks out of my way. It’s worth the extra six blocks (round trip), I confirm, as I make my way home with the pizza grease disintegrating the paper bag I am clutching as if it were my firstborn.
When I get home, I am excited to see the light blinking on my answering machine. Why is it that a message is so exciting? I’m really hoping it’s Brad, but I’m not totally disappointed that it’s my mom ... mostly because of what the message says.
“Good Golly Miss Molly! It’s your mother. I have wonderful news. Your brother is coming home ... at last. Logan just called to tell us that he’s ready to come back to Connecticut and he’s booked a flight for next week.”
“HOORAY!” I screech at Tiffany who looks up, confused and annoyed at the disturbance in her busy napping schedule. I am so excited to have my baby brother back on this continent that I am dancing around my apartment. So much commotion gets the cat going and she realizes her starvation and starts howling for some kibble. I abide while I pick up the phone to share my excitement with—.
Not Quite A Bride Page 5
