by Howe, Violet
“Maybe you should pull forward instead, a little more to the left, and then try to back up?” Adam suggested.
I turned the wheel like he said, but forgot to take it out of reverse, so when I let my foot off the break, the cart lurched backward and smacked the bench.
“That’s reverse!” the mother yelled. “He said forward. You’re going backward. Oh my God, we’re all going to die. Have you ever even driven one of these before?”
In truth, only once or twice, which I didn’t want to reveal at that point. I pulled forward again, trying to turn the wheel as Adam had suggested. My hands were shaking now, although whether from the cold or the state of my nerves, I don’t know.
“Okay, now back up and cut the wheel to see if you can get it straightened out,” Adam said.
I did as he said and cleared the railing to get the cart straight under the entranceway. Adam got back on as his mother loudly whispered, “Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think she knows what she’s doing.”
I couldn’t even get mad at her, because clearly I didn’t.
I backed the rest of the way down the covered sidewalk, cutting the wheel hard to make the turn between the two columns. I didn’t make it. I smacked the column on the left hard. Hard enough to bust out the taillight. The groom’s father groaned upon impact, and the mother screamed an obscenity I won’t write.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Are you trying to kill this poor man?”
Hot tears stung my eyes and I blinked them back furiously, embarrassed and frustrated. My good intentions had failed.
I pulled forward and grimaced at the huge black smear and splintered chunk of wood across the white column. I cut the wheel more and reversed again, but now the side of the cart veered dangerously close to hitting the other column so I stopped.
“Oh Lord in Heaven!” she shouted. “What are you doing? Is this some sort of joke? Can you please get someone else to drive us out of here?”
Her face quivered with emotion, scrunched up in rage and braced against the cold. I knew the entire event must be highly emotional for her, with her son getting married and her husband barely clinging to life. What might have been a minor incident with the cart at any other time only pushed her closer to the brink of what she could bear politely. I felt horrible, but it wasn’t like I was screwing up on purpose.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m doing the best I can. I’m having a hard time, and I already feel incompetent. Your comments and your criticism are not helping.”
“My husband is dying a slow, painful death. Your incompetence is going to speed up the process if you don’t get him out of this cold.”
I shifted back in my seat and eased forward to straighten out, then slowly backed up. The side of the cart scraped ever so slightly along the column as we passed it, but I kept going. Until the back tire slipped off the sidewalk and into the flower bed, throwing the groom’s father off balance and against his wife’s shoulder.
“Stop the damned cart!” she yelled. “You have no business driving this thing.”
“Mom,” Adam said, “just hush. You aren’t helping. She’s trying, okay?”
“Trying to kill your father,” she said.
When I finally cleared the sidewalk railings and columns, I floored it and went as fast as the little banged-up cart could go. I figured the cold air wasn’t nearly as damaging to him as more time in the cart with me. Best to get it over with quickly.
Laura stood ready to greet us at the dock, bundled in her coat, scarf, hat and gloves.
“Congratulations! How are you feeling?” she asked.
“We’ve all nearly died,” the mother said, glaring at me with daggers surely meant to be deadly.
Adam gave me a brief smile as he struggled to get his father from the cart. “Thanks for trying. I know you meant well. We’re all under a lot of stress, that’s all.”
Laura’s gaze slowly changed to something along the lines of horrified confusion. Her eyes looked at me, shocked and questioning, but we had no time to talk. She needed to get them on the yacht to sail away into the frigid wind, and I needed to get the cart parked back under its shed before someone noticed the busted light and long scrapes along the side.
Guess I’ll have some explaining to do tomorrow.
Monday, December 30th
I got my phone replaced today, and I am officially reconnected to the world! Of course, I called Cabe right away. I’ve been going through serious withdrawal without being able to talk to him whenever I wanted. I’ve called him from work a few times, but nothing like our normal constant flow of texts and calls. I felt like he moved to the other side of the world again.
He came over for dinner tonight, the first time I’ve seen him in over a week with my trip home and the weddings this past weekend. When I opened the door for him to come in, he looked like a giant compared to hanging around Dwayne last week. Cabe towers over me by about a foot at least. I think I like tall, though. Maybe I’ll add tall to my list of characteristics for Mr. Perfect. I mean, if he’s imaginary, I can request whatever qualities I want, right?
We rehashed all the details of my trip, and his sarcastic insight had me rolling. He even found a way to make my Austin Powers cart disaster funny somehow. I swear that boy can make me laugh in any situation.
We had eaten and talked and laughed for a couple of hours when he stood and stretched his arms wide.
“I gots to go,” he said, yawning. “I have to get up early in the morning. We have a new program rollout launching on January 2nd. Lots to do still.”
“Oh, is your mommy going to wake you up so you don’t miss your meeting?” I asked in a singsong child’s voice.
“No, my mommy isn’t going to wake me up,” he replied back mimicking my voice. “Smart-ass!”
I laughed and stood to hug him goodbye. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight in one of his signature bear hugs. I nestled my head against his chest and sighed contentedly.
“I’m glad you’re home, Ty.” He kissed the top of my head.
I laughed and leaned back to look up at him. “Aw. Did you miss me?” He locked his hands tight in the small of my back, holding me as I swayed back and forth laughing at him.
His eyes turned serious for a moment, and I thought he might lay another one of those random kisses on me that take my breath away and leave me dizzy. We definitely need to discuss those at some point and figure out what’s up. Not tonight, though. I didn’t want anything to ruin how happy I was just being with him.
Then without any warning, Cabe abruptly released his hold and let me go. “Night,” he said as he let himself out the door.
“Good night,” I replied, but he was already gone without ever looking back.
I wish I knew what goes on in his head. One minute he’s here with me, smiling and happy. Then all of a sudden, he’s somewhere else, not as happy. What is it that clouds that handsome smile?
Tuesday, December 31st
New Year’s Eve
I felt so thankful to be working with Lillian’s festive wedding tonight rather than Laura’s alcohol-phobic bride. I’ve accepted that I have to work on New Year’s Eve every year, but it helps if the event is at least fun. Tonight’s was not only a good time but also one of those weddings that makes me feel lucky to do this job. A beautiful, happy wedding with beautiful, happy people from two sets of wealthy parents. They had spared no expense on decor, food, entertainment—you name it. An all-around fabulous event.
And to top it all off with whipped cream and a cherry, Lillian walked up while the crowd danced and mingled after dinner and said, “You did a great job tonight, Tyler. Thank you for your help.”
She even gave me her signature nod at the end of it, a little habit I’ve noticed she has when paying a rare compliment. It’s like the nod seals it. Like a queen making a decree.
I nearly fainted, but luckily I held my composure and just beamed at her, happy to have made her proud.
“Why don’t y
ou take off?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Take off. Get out of here. It’s New Year’s Eve. Surely, there’s a party you can go to somewhere. You don’t need to ring in the New Year working.”
I was floored. Lillian is not the go-party-and-have-fun kind of boss. I thought I misunderstood.
“You mean, leave?” I asked.
“Well, yes, unless you consider it a party for all of us to crowd around a telly in the back hallway to watch some stupid ball of lights be dropped out of the sky.” She arched an eyebrow at me and gave me a sly smile.
“But what about you? I don’t want to leave you here alone,” I said. “I mean, not that you’re not capable of handling the wedding alone, but for New Year’s, I meant.”
“Ha!” She laughed. “The New Year has already begun, my dear. I am British, remember? The clock already struck midnight for me.”
“Oh, right. Okay. I guess if you’re sure.” I hesitated in leaving, not only because I didn’t want to shirk my duties but also because I didn’t have a place to go. I didn’t pay attention to anyone’s party plans since I knew I was working. I went outside and dialed Cabe.
“Hey!” he shouted over loud music and laughter. “What’s up, Buttercup?”
“Lillian says I can leave.”
“What?” he shouted.
“I can leave. I can get off work now if I want.”
“Cool! Come over. Galen is throwing a kick-ass party!”
His sister Galen lives in a high-rise downtown where she regularly throws great parties with all her artsy friends. Funky people, and sometimes a bit scary, but they definitely make lively partygoers. Cabe sounded like he’d thrown back a few and was feeling no pain.
“I don’t know. I’m not really dressed for it. I don’t think I have time to go home and change, then make it all the way downtown.”
“Don’t worry about it!” he screamed over someone shouting in the background. “No one cares how you’re dressed. Just get your ass over here and let’s sing Auld Lang Syne.”
“Do you even know the words to Auld Lang Syne?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. I could hear him talking to someone else in the room. I thought for a moment he’d forgotten me as his other conversation got more muffled and I heard loud laughter. But then he came back, “Hey! Are you coming?”
I didn’t want to go to one of Galen’s artsy parties wearing a navy suit. I also didn’t want to show up completely sober and fresh out of a work shift when everyone else had been partying for hours. One of the things I’ve learned working weddings is it’s no fun to be the sober, sane person in a room full of partying, celebrating, sloppy drunk people having a great time. As pathetic as it may be, my own comfy bed sounded more intriguing than the people yelling in the background behind Cabe.
“I don’t think so. I’m not dressed for it, and everyone else is already in party mode. I think I’ll go home and watch the ball drop on TV.”
“By yourself?” he yelled. “Are you crazy? It’s New Year’s Eve. You have to be with people or it won’t be a good year.”
“I have never heard that wise parable. Did you get that from a fortune cookie?”
“Come on, Ty. Get your butt over here,” he said, but then someone grabbed his phone and said, “Hello? Who’s this?” Cabe took the phone back and said, “Don’t mind him. He’s a jerk when he’s sober and worse when he’s drunk.” I heard the other voice protest in the background, and my bed kept sounding better and better.
“I’m going home, Cabe. I’ll call you at midnight, okay?”
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yep. I’m sure. But I’ll call you at midnight.”
We hung up, and I went inside to say goodbye to the bride and groom. They were dancing alone with all the guests surrounding them, so I walked to the edge of the dance floor and watched.
“Thank you for everything,” the woman next to me said, and I noticed it was the groom’s mother, Nidia. A tall, beautiful lady who carried class and elegance in a way I had rarely seen.
“Oh, you’re welcome. Lillian did it, though.”
She smile and turned back to the couple, gazing at them with love and admiration.
“They’re such a beautiful couple,” I said. “Today starts their happily ever after.” I often borrowed the phrase from something one of our DJs uses at the end of the night. Sappy and sentimental for sure, but wedding guests loved it.
Nidia twisted the upper half of her body toward me, arms crossed at her waist.
“Oh, please tell me you don’t buy into that,” she said.
“Um, well,” I started but didn’t finish. I didn’t know what to say.
Our business thrives on the whole fairy tale concept. It comes with the territory. If I were to reply honestly, I would admit I had my doubts. But then wouldn’t that be a betrayal of sorts against my field?
“I’ve been married for forty-three years,” she said, “and not a single one of those has been happily ever after. That is not to say I am not happily married or I have not been happy. I am and have been happy, most certainly. But love and marriage are work. This whole fairy tale concept does an incredible disservice to the commitment and selflessness required for love and marriage. People are quite imperfect. Loving them does not protect you from that. I look at my son and his beautiful bride, and I know there will be days they are not happy. She is not perfect. She has flaws, pains, emotions. She will have bad days. Sometimes bad months. Hopefully, not bad years. My son is not perfect.”
She chuckled. “I know his flaws and imperfections all too well. The fairy tale suggests you will find the perfect one. It does not exist. What does exist is love. Support, patience, kindness, forgiveness, compassion, understanding. These exist. They are choices that must be made every day to maintain a marriage. I don’t wish my son and his bride a happily ever after. I wish for them that they will make each other laugh. That they will support and encourage each other. Hold each other accountable. Uplift. Forgive. I wish for them the stamina it takes to choose love each and every day. For love is a verb. An action we choose. To love is to risk. To work through both the mundane and the unexpected. To love is to be completely vulnerable with no guarantee of safety. Because there is no happily ever after. There is only the choice to love.”
“So why would anyone do it?” I asked, not caring if it ruined the facade of my field. I knew her words were true, but I was also angry this was the reality when I so desperately wanted the fantasy. “Why would people willingly open themselves when the chance of being hurt is so great? Why can’t it be the way it is in fairy tales?”
She laughed softly and began to clap as their song ended. Then she leaned in toward me to be heard over the crowd’s applause.
“You’ve missed the whole point, my dear.” Her smile broadened, her eyes sparkling as though she was sharing some mysterious secret. “The whole beauty of love, of marriage, is that people do it in spite of the uncertainty. In spite of the work. The fact that we allow ourselves to love and be loved is the ultimate symbol of hope. It is the choosing that makes it so.”
She moved forward onto the dance floor to hug her son and new daughter-in-law. I felt like I’d been visited by a fairy godmother or an ancient mystic. Like a New Year’s Eve Love Fairy or something.
I bid them all my best wishes for a Happy New Year and a happy life. I found Lillian and told her good night and Happy New Year. Then I headed home to climb in my bed and watch the ball drop to start a new year with a new me. I had let go of a lot this year, and I looked forward to the new one with hope for what it would bring.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Nidia said on the way home. It made sense to me, but the idea of Mr. Perfect sounded much more appealing than some flawed, imperfect dude requiring work from me. The idea of love being a choice was a harder angle to market, for sure, making the fairy tale a much easier sell, I think.
I turned the key in the lock, thinking my neighbor’s television sounded
uncharacteristically loud. It wasn’t until I swung the door open that I realized the noise came from inside my apartment, which completely freaked me out.
Until I saw Cabe. He stood in my kitchen, wearing a ridiculous paper hat with streamers coming out of the top. When he saw me, he blew one of those obnoxious paper horn things that unwind when you blow them and make a noise similar to a duck with laryngitis.
“Surprise!” he yelled. “Happy New Year!”
“Oh my God! How’d you get here? What are you doing here?” I asked him through a grin that spread across my face and throughout my being.
“I couldn’t have you ring in the New Year alone! I told you, it’s bad luck. Then you’d have a bad year, and I’d feel terrible about it. So I took a taxi ’cause Lord knows I don’t need to be driving, and I came over here to do the countdown with my best good friend, Buttercup.”
He grinned and raised his glass like a toast to me, and suddenly, there he was. The guy I’d been looking for all this time.
The one who laughs with me, cries with me, and dances with me at random restaurants. The one who cooks with me and watches movies with me. Who always calls right back when I text and always tells me what I need to hear, whether I want to or not. The one who always calls me on my shit when I’m being crazy. This handsome, charming guy with the most intense blue eyes and the most incredible smile. Who kisses with a passion I can’t even describe and has a ton of flaws and imperfections. Loads of insecurities and fears.
He’d been right here in front of me the whole time, but I couldn’t see him. I felt joy and relief wash over me. I’d found what I’d been searching for.
I walked straight over to him and wrapped both arms around his neck, laying the biggest, wettest, sloppiest kiss I could muster on those soft lips. If I surprised him, he didn’t show it. He kissed me right back, both hands stroking up and down my back and pulling me closer.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that,” Cabe said, covering my mouth with his as I arched my back against him and allowed myself to feel.
