Plan Bea

by Hilary Grossman

  Cole, Anna’s husband handled the introductions. I chewed on the cuticles of my freshly manicured nails. I tried to put my best game face on as Cole innocently said, “And finally this is our dear friend, Cecelia.”

  My stomach did a summersault. I worried what Keith would say or do.

  Thankfully, all he said was “Hello, Cecelia.” I got off lucky. I hoped. Sure, his words were harmless, but the way he was looking at me was anything but. I felt like he was studying me, trying to gauge my reaction. Fortunately since the last time I saw him, I had gotten really good at keeping my true feelings all bottled up.

  I wanted to glance away and look anywhere except at him. But I simply couldn’t help myself. Being this close to him after all this time was too much for me to ignore. Against my better judgment, I looked deeply into his ice-blue eyes. Keith returned my stare and our eyes locked. Memories bombarded me, which I tried unsuccessfully to block out of my mind. He was grinning at me. He looked like a little boy who was up to no good. And in that instant I realized his appearance here tonight couldn’t possibly have been a coincidence. He planned this!

  What was I doing, I wondered as I twirled a long strand of strawberry blond hair around my index finger. I coughed, twice. It was a nervous reaction. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I turned away and faced my husband. I busied myself by fixing his perfect tie. Bryce didn’t seem to mind or care.

  “Are we done with introductions?” Beatrice asked in a very business like tone. “We have a schedule to keep, you know.” She clapped her hands, for emphasis. “Come on, everyone. We’ve got guests waiting and a wedding to put on! Now Keith, you, scoot. Get outside under the canopy. Everyone else, let’s line up and head over to the fairway. I certainly hope everyone remembers the order we are walking down the aisle. Let’s get going.”

  Walter patted Keith on the back. When Keith reached the doorway he paused and turned around. His eyes found mine. He arched his eyebrows and he smiled. I, in return, looked down at my shoes and prayed no one else noticed his actions.

  I was so thankful the ceremony was going to be held outside, because I really needed some fresh air and a stiff drink.

  DANGLED CARAT

  Chapter 1

  December 31, 2003

  I NEVER INTENDED FOR IT to happen. The words just came tumbling out without warning…

  “It’s New Year’s Eve, and you know what that means, Marc. Time is up… I told you that you had until New Year’s to propose, and, well, here we are. It’s New Year’s Eve. So, what will it be?”

  Despite the deep tan that he was sporting just moments before, suddenly Marc, my long-term boyfriend, turned ghostly pale. He took a deep breath, and it was clear by the expression on his face that he was confused, as well as slightly angry. But could you blame him? Why shouldn’t he have been upset? Who wants to be faced with an ultimatum? Especially when the demand is being delivered by someone other than your girlfriend?!

  You see, Marc and I weren’t alone. We had escaped the frigid New York temperatures and pending snowstorms to spend some time in Fort Lauderdale with our close friends from Utah, Eric and his wife, Jaye. It was Jaye who questioned Marc while Eric and I busied ourselves making grapefruit martinis.

  I wasn’t surprised by Jaye’s question, though how she delivered it did shock me. Jaye, like all of Marc’s friends and family, had been pestering him for quite a while about when he was going to marry me. Unlike most long-term relationships with commitment phobic men, I had never pressured Marc about marriage. If our relationship was going to move to the next level, I wanted it to be his choice. I didn’t want to live my life wondering if he married me because he really loved me and wanted to spend his life with me, or if he married me because I threatened to leave him if he didn’t. But… despite my resolve not to pressure him, I encouraged others to do my dirty work. And no one let me down. Everyone important in his life took on the role with gusto. But of all the people closest to Marc, Jaye had been my staunchest ally.

  When Marc didn’t reply, Jaye continued, “So, I guess the silence means you are okay with this. I guess you are engaged!”

  Eric didn’t wait for Marc to regain his senses. He followed his wife’s lead. Jumping on the bandwagon, drink in his hand; he patted Marc on the back. “Congratulations, buddy! You are a lucky man!” Then Eric turned and kissed me. “You will be a beautiful bride!” Raising his martini into the air, Eric toasted, “To the happy couple! I hope your marriage is a long and happy one!”

  “Woo hoo!” Jaye cheered. “Kiss the bride!”

  Marc didn’t move a muscle. It was as if Jaye had rendered him catatonic. I jumped up from my seat and pretty much floated over to where he sat, leaned down, and gave him a gigantic kiss.

  Marc didn’t utter a word, but he did manage to take a humongous gulp of martini. Marc is more of a wine man. He normally grimaces at the first sip of hard liquor, but not tonight. I think he would’ve been able to down the entire bottle of vodka in one sip.

  I took a sip of my drink. This was all great fun to me. Sure, I knew Marc and I weren’t really engaged, but we could pretend for the night, couldn’t we? Where would the harm be in that? Also, I couldn’t help wonder, maybe this pseudo engagement might be the kick that Marc needed to take our relationship to the next level. After all, neither one of us were getting any younger, especially Marc—who at forty-three, was thirteen years older than me.

  “So, Marc?” I asked, not wanting to be the only one not joining the fun, “how does it feel to be engaged?”

  He grunted in reply. He raised his drink to his mouth, took another sip, and slowly stood up. All eyes were on him as he opened his mouth to speak. “Eric, did you even put vodka in the drink?”

  Eric nodded his head.

  “I don’t believe you. I need more.” Marc walked over to the bottle and uncharacteristically topped off his cocktail.

  As soon as he sat down, Jaye started up again. With a wink, she said, “So, Hilary, it doesn’t seem like Marc answered your question, so I will ask you the same one. How do you feel to be engaged?”

  “Wonderful. Fabulous! Unexpected!! Like winning the lottery!!!” I said, my voice getting louder with each adjective I used, as it always does when I am excited.

  Eric, Jaye, and I all chuckled. “Did you ever expect to be engaged tonight?” Jaye continued.

  Solemnly I replied, “No, never.” And then, with a wink, I continued, “But I have to admit I did have some hopes.” I turned to Marc and I said, “I guess dreams really do come true. You have made me the happiest girl in the whole wide world.”

  Eric and Jaye struggled to suppress their laughter.

  “You guys are really having fun, huh?” Marc asked.

  In unison, we answered yes, and then the three of us burst out in hysterics like a bunch of middle-school kids. Marc was the only one not amused.

  I turned around so that I faced him eye to eye. “Oh come on, lighten up. You look so petrified. Don’t worry; I know we are not really engaged. Sheesh… You are supposed to be the funny one. Can’t you take a joke? Did you leave your sense of humor in New York or something?” I tried to sound nonchalant as I addressed him, but I felt nothing of the sort. After dating Marc for close to four years, I had hoped that eventually he would come around and realize I was the best thing that ever happened to him. There was no legitimate reason for Marc to be so opposed to the idea of a serious commitment and marriage. His parents had been happily married, only separated by the death of his mother. Following in their footsteps, Marc’s brother and sister also led happy married lives. Of course, he had a couple of divorced friends, who didn’t? But for the most part, like his family, his friends all lived the happy life of matrimony.

  The only reason Marc really had for being so against the idea of marriage were the very same reasons you find listed in all the girly magazines under headlines such as “why he will never take a wife”. Marc was the poster boy for the fortyish bachelor. He was set in his ways, successful, and ext
remely self-sufficient. He was a whiz in the kitchen and equally as capable with a washing machine and vacuum. He didn’t need anyone. But let’s face it: need and desire are two different things. And it had become crystal clear to me, and everyone around us, that he cherished the time we spent together. But was that really enough to change his ways?

  Why get my hopes up? Why hadn’t I realized by then that I’d end up disappointed or hurt?

  “Wow, look at the time,” Eric, ever the diplomat, said as he rose to his feet. “We’d better start heading over to my parents’ place.” Jaye and I scooped up the now-empty martini glasses and rinsed them out in the sink. We locked up the condo and walked over to the house where Eric’s parents were staying only a few blocks away, as they tried to escape the cold Canadian winter.

  As we strolled, I watched Marc begin to relax ever so slightly. Approaching Eric’s parents’ front door, Marc let out an audible sigh of relief. I know he felt that the pressure of the night was over.

  If only he was right…

  Lois, Eric’s mom, greeted us excitedly at the front door. She was so happy to have us over for New Year’s Eve, as well as her other son, Marno, who was staying with them for the holiday week. “Come in, come in,” Lois sang as she hugged and kissed us all.

  As soon as we were inside, Jaye announced, “Mom, guess what? Marc and Hilary just got engaged!”

  Lois, who had known Marc for about twenty years, and wasn’t aware of Eric and Jaye’s little joke, brought her hands to her face to try to mask her happiness and shock. She started to screech in joy. Not knowing what the commotion was, her husband, Irvin, and Marno came running into the house from the backyard, fearing something was wrong.

  If Irvin noticed us, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even greet his eldest son, Eric, as he ran to his wife’s side. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, panic present in his voice and demeanor.

  “Wrong? Nothing is wrong. Everything is great!” Lois had an ear- to-ear grin. “It’s good news! Marc and Hilary just got engaged!”

  Irvin and Marno caught the enthusiasm. “What? Really? You?” Marno asked, shocked. “I never thought you would commit. Ever! To anyone! Man, I guess if you live long enough, you see everything.”

  Eric turned to his brother, and with a smile said, “Shocking, huh?”

  Before Marno could reply, Irvin exclaimed, “Champagne for everyone!”

  Lois floated into the dining room to get the champagne flutes out of the hutch. Irvin popped the top of the champagne bottle that was chilling in the fridge, and Marno started congratulating us. As Eric stood by watching his family, Jaye disappeared from the group and slipped into Lois and Irvin’s bedroom. She emerged minutes later with a costume rhinestone ring. “Here.” She turned to me. “Give me your left hand.” I slowly raised it and she slipped the ring on my left ring finger. “For tonight, this will be your engagement ring!” We both chuckled. Then I hugged her tightly, a goofy smile on my face.

  We meandered to the backyard, which was on the inter-coastal, champagne flutes in our hands. Although I knew it was a joke, I couldn’t help it. I kept admiring the ring on my finger, pretending it was really my engagement ring. I expected Eric or Jaye to fess up and admit to Eric’s family that our engagement was a joke, but they didn’t. They just kept letting Eric’s family think we were really engaged. Lois kept on beaming, tossing out questions about our engagement. She wanted details. Jaye ended up answering almost all of them for me. After all, if not for Jaye, this “engagement” would not be happening.

  “So… when did this happen?” Lois asked.

  “Tonight, Mom,” Jaye answered quickly. “Would you believe it happened right before we came over?”

  “Really? Wow. Were you expecting it, Hilary?”

  “No,” I honestly replied. “It came out of left field.”

  “Oh, I love a surprise engagement,” Lois beamed.

  “Yeah, it was a surprise all right. Hilary wasn’t the only one that was caught off guard,” Jaye clarified as I tried to keep a straight face.

  “How did Marc propose? Did he get down on one knee? Irvin didn’t, and I was so disappointed.”

  “Don’t feel bad, Mom, Marc didn’t get down on one knee either. But I think he did get weak in the knees.” Jaye added, “But you asked how he proposed. Let’s just say… I don’t think he planned for it.”

  Lois smiled and took a delicate sip of her drink. I still had a stupid smile plastered on my face. I was having a blast. Well, I was until I glanced over and saw the pained look in Marc’s eyes, which was growing more noticeable with every additional comment out of Jaye’s mouth.

  He was trying so hard to be a good sport. I could see it was getting increasingly difficult for him to let this charade continue. As he got agitated, so did I. In an instant, the joke stopped being funny. It was sad and hurtful. No matter how hard I pretended, Jaye’s proposal wasn’t real, nor was it going to magically become so. Instead, it started to become crystal clear to me, while looking at Marc’s troubled face, that he had no intention of proposing to me now—or, I feared, ever. Would I be okay always just being his girlfriend?

  It’s amazing how devastating disappointment can be, especially when it’s over something that you didn’t really expect to occur in the first place, if you are truly honest with yourself...

  I removed the rhinestone ring from my finger and thrust it at Jaye. Before bursting into tears, I managed to utter, “I can’t do this anymore.” Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, as I was humiliated enough, I ran about three houses away and squatted down at the ledge of the inter-coastal. Part of me wanted to just jump in and disappear. Seriously, I was contemplating it. But instead I just stood there, tears streaming down my face, staring into the blue water. This was so not how I’d envisioned this night!

  It didn’t take more than a moment before Marc was at my side. “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me back to Lois and Irvin’s house. But instead of rejoining everyone, he ushered me around the house to the front porch. “Sit,” he commanded.

  I did and he quickly sat down next to me. I was sobbing and I didn’t care. I tried to cover my face with my hair, but Marc gently swept a long lock away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. He wiped my tears away with his fingers and pulled me towards him, holding me close and tight. Still, he didn’t utter a word. I felt safe and protected in his arms, which made me cry harder, until my tears saturated the shoulder of his shirt.

  Eventually my sobs started to subside. When they did, Marc slowly pulled away. “Are you okay now?” he asked softly.

  I was afraid my voice would crack and bring a fresh set of tears, so I just nodded my head.

  “I am really sorry for what happened,” he said quietly.

  I started to hiccup. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I am the one who’s sorry. I could have stopped Jaye and I should have. But did I? No. I’m a fool. I encouraged her to continue. I just wanted it to be true. And now look.” Crying again, I didn’t want to look at Marc, so I buried my face in his neck, and held onto him tight.

  He began to gently stroke my hair, trying to comfort me as I continued to cry. I have no idea how much time passed. It could have been five seconds or five minutes. I was in an emotional fog. Finally, he separated himself and grabbed my face in his hands. “Look at me,” he said.

  My eyes darted around nervously before I was able to focus on his eyes, bracing myself for what he was going to say.

  “It is okay. Stop crying. Please. I want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t really want to talk,” I mumbled, as Marc wiped my tears again with his fingers and pushed my hair away from my face. “I’ll stop crying. Let’s just forget it and go back to everyone.” I really didn’t want to talk. It would have been easier for me to ignore the disappointment I felt than get hurt more.

  “No, we need to talk.” I took a deep br
eath, trying to regain my composure, as he continued. “You know I don’t put my feelings into words very often, right?” Marc asked.

  “Right,” I whispered.

  “And you know how hard it is for me to say certain words, right? That is why I try to show you how I feel instead. And I do, right?”

  “Yeah, you try.” He really did. In my heart, I knew that it was much better to have someone treat you right, rather than make empty declarations about their love and be unkind or unfaithful to you. Normally, I didn’t mind the fact that he didn’t accurately articulate his feelings. It was a male characteristic I was used to. My father had the same difficulty with words. He hardly ever expressed his feelings. He kept everything bottled up. While he did show both my mom and I his heart and his love for us, he couldn’t utter the words. If he did try to say “I love you”, it sounded foreign rolling off his tongue. Marc had always reminded me of my father in this way.

  But sometimes, actions aren’t enough. Sometimes a girl needs to be told what a guy feels, rather than trying to decipher the signs.

  As if reading my mind, Marc continued, “So this should mean even more to you, then. I know I don’t tell you often enough, but I want you to know just how much I love you. Hilary, I really do. I never thought I would love someone this much.”