The Best Man

by Annabelle Costa

  “I guess.” Ted doesn’t seem concerned. “Or you could move to Mountain View with me.”

  “You know I don’t want to do that!” I feel red spots rising up on my cheeks. “Ted, we talked about this. I don’t want to leave New Jersey. Minnie needs me here.”

  “So we’re planning our entire lives around Minnie now?” Ted’s voice is dripping with contempt. “That’s not a good reason and you know it, Kirby.”

  I pull my hand away from his. I can’t even believe this conversation. He’s talking about Minnie like she’s some bum on the sidewalk. But maybe that shouldn’t surprise me, considering he can’t even remember her name. “We agreed we were going to stay here.”

  “Yeah, if I could find a decent job,” he reminds me.

  “You can’t find a decent job in all of Manhattan?”

  “Not like the ones in Silicon Valley. And let’s face it—Silicon Valley is a much nicer place to live than Jersey City.”

  My hands are nearly shaking with anger. We agreed on this. We agreed to stay in Jersey. It was one of my reservations when we first started dating seriously, but he always assured me that he’d be willing to move. Yet here we are.

  “Anyway,” Ted says, “you’re only going to be working a couple more years until we have kids anyway, so what’s the difference?”

  I stare at him, trying to parse the pieces of that sentence. There’s no part of it that makes sense to me. Kids in a couple of years? I’m not even thirty yet! Shouldn’t we have a few years together to build a stable marriage before we consider bringing a screaming newborn into our lives? And why is he assuming I’ll give up my job when we have kids?

  “I was thinking,” I say carefully, “that I’d keep working when we have kids.”

  Ted frowns at me. “Why would you? I can support you. I’d love to take care of you, Kirby.”

  “But I enjoy my job.”

  Ted just shakes his head, as if I’m saying something really dumb. “My mom stayed home with us when I was a kid. It’s not healthy to just foist a kid on a nanny or daycare.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Are you seriously saying that I’m not allowed to work until our kids are in school?”

  “No,” he says. “You can work part-time when they’re in preschool.”

  I can’t even bring myself to respond.

  “I don’t understand what the problem is.” Ted’s brow is scrunched up. “It’s not like working is so much fun. Don’t women want to stay home when they have kids?”

  “Yeah, in the 1950s,” I shoot back.

  Ted bites his lip. “Sorry. I just thought… I don’t know. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  I shake my head. “No. It’s not.”

  “Listen,” Ted says softly, “let’s not argue about this now. We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  The same way he promised to move to New Jersey?

  I nod and look away from him, but I’m unable to push away the sick feeling in my stomach. I don’t know the man sitting next to me—the one I’m about to marry. And he doesn’t know me. I’ve agreed to marry a stranger.

  I’ve got to find a way to tell him that it’s over.

  Chapter 48: John

  This is the stupidest idea ever.

  I actually had to buy tickets to Vegas. It’s a different flight than Kirby and Ted will be on, but I figure if I somehow don’t get there in time, I can go to Vegas to find them. Of course, I’ve brought practically nothing with me—just the bare essentials in a backpack, which is not easy considering I’m not some strapping twenty-year-old kid. I’m not even a strapping thirty-one-year-old—I’m a freaking quadriplegic. And all I’ve brought is some of my pills, some clean leg bags, and clean underwear. I’ll almost definitely regret my haphazard packing if I end up actually having to go to Vegas.

  I had thought that my left shoulder was feeling a lot better, but being at the airport is a rude awakening. I’m able to push my chair, but I’m going slower and slower, and by the time I get halfway to security, the pain gets the better of me. I just… stop. I want to keep going but even the thought of pushing myself another foot makes my eyes water.

  Well, this is just fucking great. Here I am, trying to do some big romantic airport scene, and I can’t even make it to the girl. This is why they don’t have quads in the big romantic airport scenes in movies, by the way.

  Of course, when you’re a guy in a wheelchair, you can’t sit there in peace for very long. I start attracting attention quickly when a little kid wheeling a tiny luggage nearly bashes into me. “I’m so sorry,” the mother of the little boy says. She squints at me. “Are you okay, sir? Do you need help?”

  I almost say no. But who am I kidding? Yeah, I need help. Unless I plan on spending the night right here, in the middle of the airport hallway.

  “Yes,” I admit. “Could you… get a staff member for me?”

  A few minutes later, a man in uniform is sprinting over to me. His badge helpfully declares his name to be Rich. I hate this. Hate. This. I need to get a stupid power wheelchair. I can’t live like this anymore.

  Rich smiles broadly at me. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I, um…” I crane my neck to look up at Rich, who is probably as tall as I’d be if I could stand. “I’m having some trouble with my chair. Is… could somebody push me to security?”

  I want to give up. I really do. If Kirby could see this display, there’d be no point in even trying.

  “Of course, sir!” Rich says in a chipper voice.

  And then he’s pushing me. It’s a relief not to have to deal with pushing the chair anymore, but at the same time, I feel so goddamn impaired right now. The good news, however, is that Rich pushes me right to the head of the substantial line in security. Nobody gives me a dirty look though. They’re all just trying not to stare.

  “We’ve got a disabled passenger here,” Rich says to the TSA worker at the front of the line.

  The burly TSA guy looks down at me and frowns. “Sir, are you able to walk through the metal detector?”

  “No,” I say. What kind of stupid question is that? Do I look like I’m able to walk through the goddamn metal detector? I couldn’t even push my chair.

  “Can you stand up?”

  I shake my head.

  I know what’s coming next. They’re going to frisk me. That’s another joy of being disabled at the airport—one they don’t tell you about in rehab. I don’t think I look like a terrorist, but it would probably be a good trick to smuggle a weapon in a metal wheelchair.

  The TSA guy, whose nametag reads Bill, takes my ticket from me and studies it for a minute. “Mr. Yang?” he says, and I nod. “We’re going to have to frisk you before you can get through security.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I mutter.

  First, I have to take off my shoes, and hand over my phone and keys and wallet. Those can all go through the machine. In the meantime, Bill frisks me. He pats down my chest first. He asks me to lift my arms, which is thankfully something I’m able to do. He pats down each of my arms, then frowns at me. “Are you able to lean forward a bit?”

  “No,” I admit.

  So Rich has to help me lean forward. I remember the day that Kirby helped me lean forward when I was fitted for the tux, and how sexy it was to be leaning against her body. This isn’t sexy. Rich smells too strongly of cologne and every fucking person in the line is gawking at me as he supports my upper body as Bill pats down the back of my chair.

  Finally, Bill sits down himself to frisk my lower body. He takes my right leg and pulls it onto his lap. He pats down my leg, but comes to a stop when he feels my leg bag. His eyes meet mine. “What’s this?”

  “It’s…” It’s a fucking bag of urine—can we move on? “It’s medical equipment.”

  I pray he’ll leave it at that. That he won’t think my piss bag is a bomb strapped to my leg. I look away from him, my cheeks hot. Finally, thank fucking God, he lets my right leg go. But the prolonged stretch has set of
f a spasm, so we all have to sit there and wait for me to get my jumping right leg under control. Trust me when I say that it’s not faster to get through security when you have a disability.

  When it’s over, Rich offers to help me put my shoes back on. I don’t say no. He’s been pushing me across the whole goddamn airport—may as well accept the extra help.

  “Where are you headed to, Mr. Yang?” Rich asks cheerfully. “Is it a vacation?”

  I consider admitting to him that I’m here to stop the woman I love from getting married to another guy. I wonder how he’d react.

  “Las Vegas,” I finally say.

  “Oh, fun,” Rich says, probably wondering how the hell I’m going to manage in Vegas. Or maybe he’s thinking I’m going there to get a hooker. I don’t give a shit at this point.

  I allow Rich to push me all the way to the gate where my flight is taking off, but that’s not where I want to be. Kirby and Ted’s gate is all the way down the hall. It’s maybe… the length of a city block. Not far by any means, but right now, it seems like miles away. I’ve got to push myself over there.

  “Is there anything else you need, sir?” Rich asks me.

  I consider asking him to push me there. But no—I don’t want to have to explain that one. “No. Thanks for your help.”

  He beams at me. “Not a problem at all. Please enjoy your flight, sir.”

  Please don’t let me be going on a flight…

  I wait for Rich to disappear. I look down at my watch then down the hall. I’ve probably got at least twenty minutes before Kirby’s flight starts boarding. If I were at my best, it would probably take me one minute to get to the other gait. Right now, twenty minutes doesn’t seem long enough. This is so fucked up. Don’t I have enough going against me without this shit too?

  I put my palms on the wheels of my chair and I push. Holy crap, that hurts. But it doesn’t hurt as much as it did when Rich first started to push me. Maybe I’ll be okay.

  One more push. Another.

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  A sharp jab goes through my shoulder that hurts so much, I nearly can’t breathe. I just sit there for a second, collecting myself. But no. I can’t keep stopping like this. I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go now.

  Don’t think about the pain. The pain is just in your body. Just push.

  There’s sweat on my brow by the time I make it to the gate. My shoulder is on fire, but when I see Kirby and Ted sitting together, their carry-on luggage between them, the pain becomes bearable again. I take a deep breath and push myself that extra several yards until I’m right in front of them. My former best friend and the woman I love.

  “John?”

  Kirby is staring at me in astonishment. Her heart-shaped face has gone white. I try to smile, but I know it comes out crooked.

  “Johnny?” Ted looks equally confused, but his face breaks out in a smile. He has no clue. “What are you doing here?”

  “I…” I wheel closer to them. I hear the words running through my head: Kirby, I love you. Please don’t marry Ted. Why can’t I say it?

  Just fucking say it, you wuss!

  Ted’s brow furrows. “Is everything okay?”

  I look at Kirby, who is shaking her head at me. I see the hurt in her eyes, still fresh from the last time I saw her. Christ, what a mess I made of everything.

  “Look,” I say quietly. I get close enough that my knee is nearly touching Kirby’s. She doesn’t move to get away—that’s a plus. “There’s something I need to say.”

  “What’s up, Johnny?” Ted says.

  I turn away from him. I focus all my attention on Kirby, like he isn’t there. I know that if I look at Ted, I’ll lose my nerve. I hate that I have to do this to my former best friend. But I’m not doing it to him. I’m doing it for her.

  “Kirby,” I say.

  She looks at me, her eyes softening.

  “I love you.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I do. I’m sorry I didn’t… that I pushed you away, but… I do. I love you. I loved you the moment I first saw you.” I shift in my chair and my shoulder screams at me. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Kirby. I don’t know if I ever could again. And I… I couldn’t let you leave and get married without telling you how I feel…”

  And then there’s just silence. The worst silence I’ve ever heard.

  Christ, I’m such a fucking idiot.

  Chapter 49: Kirby

  John shifts in his chair as he finishes his speech to me. He winces and I know it’s his shoulder. But the pain in his eyes isn’t from his shoulder.

  “Kirby?” he whispers. His voice breaks on my name.

  My voice box feels paralyzed. Ted is next to me and I see the concern in his eyes. He leans forward and puts his hand on John’s arm.

  “John,” Ted says in a quiet, patronizing voice. “I was worried something like this might happen.”

  John lifts those almond eyes to look at Ted.

  “Kirby thinks you’re great,” Ted continues, “but you have to understand she doesn’t feel that way about you. And I know that you’re lonely. I mean, I can’t blame you for misinterpreting things.”

  John drops his eyes. “Right.”

  “I promise you, Johnny,” Ted says, “there’s a girl out there for you. There’s got to be. I promise that you’ll—”

  “I love you too,” I blurt out.

  Now both Ted and John are staring at me. I have a bad feeling that soon everyone at Gate 23 will be staring at me.

  “What?” Ted says.

  “I…” I look away from Ted, into John’s eyes. “I love you too, John. I’ve never met anyone like you either. And I know that I never will again.”

  And then it’s like everyone else in the airport has disappeared. And it’s just me and John staring at each other. I want to kiss him so badly that it’s physically painful. I could never want anyone as much as I want him right now.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Ted breaks the spell. He’s on his feet, looking absolutely enraged. His blue eyes are bulging out. I can see his face turning red under his tan, and he’s slowly becoming purple.

  “You like him?” he shouts at me. “Are you serious? Is this some kind of joke?”

  People are now legit staring at us. Even more than they did when John first wheeled over.

  “I’m sorry, Ted,” I murmur, hoping he’ll get the hint about keeping his voice down. “I... I didn’t mean for this to happen. John and I… we just… click.”

  John beams at my statement, but Ted’s eyes just widen. “Holy shit…” he says. “I got this feeling you might be messing around on me, but I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. But now I get it. You were messing around on me. And he’s the guy.” Ted glares at John. “You fucker! I told you what I was worried about! And you played dumb.”

  John’s cheeks color. “Ted, I’m really sorry…”

  “Sorry?” Ted snorts. “No, don’t be sorry. Kirby’s going to be the one who’s sorry to get stuck with you.” He snaps his head back over to glare at me. “I mean, look at him. You’re really attracted to that? Oh, and did he tell you he’s impotent? That he can’t get it up?”

  John looks like he’s about to start choking, which is just about how I feel. Impotent? I mean, I know John is paralyzed, but…

  Oh wow.

  “I’m not impotent,” John mutters under his breath, glancing around at all the people staring at us. “I’m not. Ted, that’s… Christ, I told you I was having trouble a long time ago. In confidence…”

  “Fuck confidence!” All the veins are standing out on Ted’s neck now. And there’s one big one on his forehead. He’s always so laid back—I’m shocked he’s capable of this. “I thought you were my friend, man. My best friend. I made you my best man, for fuck’s sake! Of course, I mostly did it because I felt sorry for you because… well, shit, look at you. Your life sucks and you look like a freak. But then after all I did for
you, it turns out all along you’re messing around with my fiancée? You piece of shit!”

  Well, we have the absolute attention of every single person at Gate 23.

  “I’m not your best friend, Ted,” John shoots back. “We don’t even know anything about each other anymore. You don’t know me. And you don’t know Kirby either.”

  “I know I can give her a better life than you can,” Ted snaps. “I definitely know I can satisfy her better in bed than you can.”

  John shakes his head. “It kills you, doesn’t it? That Kirby could like a guy in a wheelchair better than she likes you? Well, she does. So deal with it.”

  Ted’s eyes widen. “Fuck you, asshole!”

  And then, before I even know what’s happening, Ted punches John in the face.

  Two things happen after that:

  First, I hear a scream. It’s not John though—it’s Ted. Well, it’s also about five other people who have been intently watching us the whole time, but the most resounding of the screams comes from Ted. Apparently, John’s face is harder than Ted’s fist.

  The second thing that happens is that three undercover security officers materialize out of nowhere. I blink my eyes and there are suddenly three large men restraining Ted. Who is trying his best to cradle his wounded hand.

  “Let me go!” Ted shouts at them.

  “Sir,” one of the men is saying to Ted. “We’re going to need you to calm down.”

  “I will not fucking calm down!” Ted yells. “This asshole stole my fiancée!”

  The men all look at John, identical doubtful expressions on their faces. I want to go sit on John’s lap and kiss him, to let them know how wrong they are, but John has his knuckles held up to his wounded cheekbone, and also, I really don’t want to provoke Ted. He’s furious enough as it is.

  “You’re making a huge mistake, Kirby,” Ted hisses at me. “Huge. I promise you. You’re going to regret this.”

  “No,” I say firmly. “I won’t.”

  The men drag Ted away to wherever they put people who are threatening airport security. I feel terrible that he had his meltdown in the absolute worst place. He’d probably be better off in jail.