She's never said this last part before, only that she thought I should have responded to his attempts to reach out to me and talk about what happened. I couldn't do it then, and she was like the big sister while I cried and ranted about how he had cheated on me.
About how I never knew him, after all those years. How the boy I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, who I had devoted so much time and love to, wasn't as committed to me as I imagined he was.
The time for wallowing is long over, but I don't think I'm ready to hear anyone tell me that Michael and I should be together. It's been too long, and he's moved on.
Emily seems genuine, and I didn't feel like she was baiting me in the restroom. Other women might have rubbed in in my face that they were with my former boyfriend, but I think she really wanted Michael and me to reconcile in some way so he would feel better about it.
About us.
That only makes sense. Of course she would want Michael to be over anything negative in his past, so they could move forward in their lives together.
"Don't say that. It wasn't meant to be. That's life."
It's a lame response to her hopeful encouragement, one of those philosophical sayings kids are tired of hearing from adults, and I'm ashamed that I've spouted it for lack of any legitimate answer.
She frowns as she leans away from me, shaking her head.
"I don't believe it, but it's your life. Meanwhile, I have to finish up in here and go back out to talk to Parker. You know, I never really noticed him before since he was in your class at school, but he loves Frank Lloyd Wright."
Her last words don't make a lot of sense together, but that's okay. I'm happy she has someone to talk architecture with, since I only know what she's told me.
"He has to come to Fallingwater with us!"
She's off and running with this, and I wish I had something to be enthusiastic about, too.
I wait as she goes into a stall, talking continuously as she finishes and washes her hands, not bothering to take a look at herself in the mirror as she wipes them a paper towel.
"Parker says that they have judges for final projects who actually work in the field, even in your first year!"
That sounds stressful to me, but Sydney is beaming as we leave the restroom, clearly enjoying the thought of it.
When we walk into the social hall, the DJ is barking introductions, calling out the names of everyone in the small wedding party as each one steps forward to scattered applause, and I grab my sister's hand as we head towards our parents. Our mom is waving at us, her hand held high, but a few other people wave at us, too, people I haven't seen since I've been home.
I smile and nod to them, not stopping to talk. I'll be home all summer, so there's plenty of time for them to grill me on university life and my dating status.
That's the last thing I want to talk about, or even think about. I have enough on my mind without throwing a man in the mix. A new man, anyway.
"We'll start off the bridal dance now, so everyone else hold off until the happy couple has completed their special time alone."
The DJ’s instruction is standard, but I wonder how alone Michelle and Levi can be in a room full of hundreds of people waiting for them to cut the cake and start the celebration.
The song bawls out of the giant wooden speakers screwed to each corner of the social hall ceiling, holdovers from renovations back before I was born, but in spite of the faint crackling sound that accompany the words, I recognize it right away.
Sure enough, it was one that was popular last year, and the last one I heard when I left that party.
After I kissed Jonah.
I haven't thought much about him since then, which is mean and selfish, but now I worry that I'll run into him. Someone told me that he was going to college out of state, but I never bothered to find out where, or why.
Maybe I need to work on being more considerate along with dealing with my future plans.
I resist the urge to look around to see if Michael is reacting to the lyrics, and watch Michelle and Levi, with Sydney by my side. Everyone mutters about how beautiful Michelle looks, and how tiny she seems next to Levi. Levi cradles Michelle in his arms as if she is the most precious thing in the world to him, and Michelle rocks against him, her eyes closed, a content smile on her glowing face.
Even if I'm not happy with my life just yet, I can be glad that the two of them, so different from each other, are starting their life together .
"I'm going to find Bethany and Alaina. They were going to look for Zander and Troy to see if they wanted to dance. Do you think Parker would want to dance with me?"
I'm surprised by this sudden turn in her reaction to Parker, hoping that this doesn't mean she is interested in him in that way. After all, they just met.
She's almost eighteen, though, and with plenty of boys looking her way but none who have caught her eye seriously, there's no reason she and Parker couldn't date.
What am I thinking?
"I have no idea. But, hey, Sydney . . ."
I'm about to tell her not to pressure him, but I stop talking instead. She can do whatever she wants, and maybe Parker would like to spend more time with her. He sure seemed like it a little while earlier.
"Never mind," I go on, as she stares at me expectantly.
"Okay, see you in a minute!"
She's gone before I can respond, and I shake my head, sighing. Several people push past me to head towards the open area designated as the dance floor, so I walk back to the rows of tables and chairs, where a few stragglers are already sitting down and talking together, glasses of water or iced tea in their hands.
Before I can open my mouth to greet them, I feel a hand on my elbow.
"Would you dance with me? Just this once?"
Michael, who I danced with the entire time at previous wedding receptions we attended together, is looking down at me as if he's not sure how I'll respond.
I'm not, either.
There must be several sets of eyes on us now as I look into his eyes, wondering why he wants to interact with me at all. What does Emily think about him approaching me? Knowing him and how considerate he is, he probably asked her first, to be sure she didn't mind.
So why would he want to be this close to me again, and in front of the entire town?
Chapter Thirteen
"Okay, I guess."
Michael's smile is a little sheepish.
"I don't want to pressure you. It's just a dance."
I have a feeling that this is more than a dance, but maybe it's a chance to work towards being more comfortable around each other. Not that we need to spend time together, except at the diner. Sometimes.
"It's fine."
I suck in a breath when he takes my hand, because I definitely don't expect that. There's no need for him to touch me just yet, not until we're a part of the mix of couples swaying in the middle of the room.
But he does it, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and I wonder if he even realizes that he has. Maybe it's just from habit.
I swallow hard and lift my head when he turns around, the other people around us allowing just enough room to fit together. Letting my hands move up to rest on his shoulders, I can't help noticing the way my body still responds to him, the way I instinctively want to lean in to press a kiss to his lips.
His hands find their way to my hips, but I can sense that he's not entirely sure of what he's doing. But this was his idea, so I don't know why he seems reluctant now.
"This might not be the best place to talk about this, but it's been bothering me, and after talking with Emily a lot about it, I think it might be good to just go ahead and do it."
One of my hands slides down to his collarbone, and I force it back to his shoulder. His hair is almost long enough, unruly enough, to reach the back of my hand, and I want to take a few strands in between my fingers, knowing already how soft it would be.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Michael."
>
It's a loud whisper, but I know he hears me because he blinks and looks away quickly before finding my gaze again.
"The party. Why did you kiss Jonah? What was so wrong between us that made you do that?"
I pull away in surprise, but his hands tighten on my hips, so getting away from him quickly without causing a commotion and a lot of attention I don't want, is impossible.
Shaking my head, I narrow my eyes.
"Why ask that now? Here?"
He shrugs, and the tips of his hair brush against my hand. I want to curl my fingers around his neck and pull his face down to mine, to kiss him and make the last few months go away.
I'm shocked that I still feel so strongly attracted to him, and not just that. It's more than physical attraction, and I don't want to deal with whatever feelings I have buried under the surface, the ones that make my heartbeat thud loudly in my ears now.
"Like I said, I wanted to know. It's been bothering me, and I don't know if there was something I could have done to prevent it."
How about not kissing another girl?
I don't say it, instead pursing my lips in what probably looks like the pout of a spoiled child.
"Hey, Jenny, good to see you home!"
A girl I graduated with leans in and yells in my face, as if I can't hear her from inches away. I thin my lips into a tight smile and nod, and she seems to understand right away that I'm not in the mood for polite conversation.
I am, however, in the mood to shove Michael away from me and head for the door.
"You can figure it out. You've always been smart. Smarter than me, anyway."
Now Michael frowns as he looks up and closes his eyes.
"Jenny, if I knew, I wouldn't be asking. If I didn't care, I wouldn't be asking."
If he didn't care. Why should he care now, when he has Emily and the two of us are long over?
When my hand slides back to his collarbone, I leave it there, just as his eyes open and look into mine.
"Annabelle."
The word slips out of my mouth, hovering between us as I wait for his reaction.
It's not what I expect.
"Annabelle? Like, Annabelle from school? What about her?"
As if he doesn't remember her hands on his face, her chest pressed against him.
Kissing her, as if what we had between us was no commitment whatsoever.
I fight the urge to cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath, allowing it to release as I blow out so my wispy strands of hair flutter along my forehead.
"Kissing her? Do you not remember that? You can remember me with Jonah, but not what you did first?"
It comes out more as a hiss than a series of rhetorical questions, and Michael's head jerks back a little, as if I've slapped him.
"Wait, what? I never kissed her."
As soon as the words are out, his eyes widen and his mouth drops open a little, making me want to kiss him all the more even as I grow infuriated.
"That's not what I saw. The two of you were kissing, and Jonah was there, so . . ."
He's staring at me as if it's the first time he's seen me in a long while, even though we've been running into each other at the diner and exchanging greetings more regularly than I expected we would when I started working there.
"I called, I texted . . . I wish you would have talked to me then. Right after. So we could have . . ."
Could have what? Did he think that I could easily forgive him?
He probably expected that, since I had been so devoted to him for so long.
I shake my head, trying to ignore how his hands have slid up from my hips to my ribcage, tickling me just a little. If we were still together, I would giggle at his touch, at the gentleness of it and how simple it was for us to connect in such an easy way.
"I didn't kiss Annabelle. She kissed me."
This is a surprise, but I'm not sure it's the truth. I'm more shocked that he would come up with an excuse like this. He isn't a liar, but then again, we never had any reason to cover up either of our behaviors from each other before.
"Sure. I'm sure a lot of guys get away with that."
I push his hands from my sides and turn around, finding my path blocked as I should have expected, by people not just dancing, but watching me.
Watching us.
Michael grabs my hand and pulls me to face him again.
"It's true. I never would have kissed anyone else. I never planned to kiss anyone but you for the rest of my life."
I don't want to hear any more from him, not about Annabelle, or about kissing.
Or the rest of his life, and who he wanted to kiss during that time.
I pay no attention to the stares that follow me, although I feel them like physical touches on my body as I say excuse me and press through the crowd.
"Jenny, Parker says . . ."
My sister's voice interrupts my jumbled thoughts as I head towards the door.
"Not now, Sydney. I'm sorry, just not right now."
I have made a horrible mistake. If Michael is telling the truth, and I refused to have this conversation with him right after the party to allow us to explain our actions, then I was the only one who destroyed our relationship.
And our future.
I took his presence in my life for granted for so long and was so hurt by his betrayal, that I never considered that there might have been a misunderstanding.
Didn't I know him well enough to believe and trust him, that he would never have anything to do with another girl?
When I step outside of the church, there is a cluster of people smoking cigarettes, and I smile as I walk by, recognizing them all but not wanting to be pulled into a conversation right now.
There's a small wooden gazebo that a Girl Scout built for her Gold Award a few years ago in the backyard, big enough to hold no more than four people on two tiny benches. A thin strand of dark green is painted along the vertical planks, with small pink flowers added in an even pattern.
I'm staring at the attention to detail this girl made on her project, trying to settle my thoughts and get control over my emotions.
Yes, I made a mistake, but it's over and done with, and we have all moved on.
I notice that I've subconsciously accepted Michael's explanation now, with no question as to his honesty about it. He and Annabelle didn't date after that party, either, and if he was interested in her, wouldn't they have?
With one hand on the painted flower vine and the other on my forehead, as if the pressure and warmth of my palm will help straighten out my thought process, I close my eyes and reimagine that night again, how seeing Michael and Annabelle kissing led to my own actions.
Led to kissing Jonah.
"Everything okay, Jenny? You look kind of sick."
Mark, Michael's dad, stands at the edge of the parking lot holding a long, thin box. He's far enough away from me that his voice didn't startle me too much, but I'm still surprised to see anyone out here.
"No, I'm fine. Just a little crowded in there. I needed some air."
He nods, but he's not smiling as he waves the box in the air in front of him.
"We forgot the cake knife and server. The server's engraved with their names."
His shrug indicates that he really doesn't understand why these items are so important, and it's such a guy thing to do that I can't help but smile.
"So many details."
He rolls his eyes and returns my smile. It's so much like Michael's that I feel my own smile falter a little.
"We miss you around the house, you know. I'm sorry things didn't work out."
As if he's worried that he has said something wrong, he shakes his head quickly and turns around, heading towards the church.
Michelle and Levi will be cutting their cake soon, and Sydney and her friends will be shoving their pieces in each other's faces.
"For practice," Sydney always says when our mom admonishes her. It's messy and sticky and she has so much fun doing it.
This is my fault, but there's nothing I can do to fix it.
I can't go back in time and change my reaction, either that night or the following days, when I ignored Michael's calls and texts, wallowing in my assumption that he had cheated on me.
Ignoring Sydney's insistence that I talk to him and hear what he had to say.
All I've ever known for sure that I wanted for my life was to spend it with him, and now, while I should be figuring out my education and career goals, I've circled back to this.
With a few words and his hands on my body, his shining green eyes intensely focused on mine, Michael has reminded me how much we meant to each other.
Do I dare hope that in spite of our time apart, in spite of his fiancée and obvious commitment to a life without me, that we could return to that idyllic time together?
Or create something new between us?
Chapter Fourteen
Sydney has chunks of cake down the front of her dress and frosting in her hair, but her laugh is contagious as our mom tells her she needs to visit the restroom and clean up a bit.
"We go through this every year. Every wedding."
Our mom shakes her head, but she's smiling resignedly.
A group of kids from Sydney's class at school have taken over a large part of the dancing area, so she waves at the three of us and runs over, stopping to grab Parker by the arm and drag him along.
He looks a little stunned, but his smile proves that it's a pleasant surprise for him to have garnered so much attention from her.
"Maybe you should sit down."
My dad's voice is low and serious, and when I turn to look at my parents, I see my mom allowing him to help her to a metal folding chair at the end of the table behind us.
I think of her earlier reaction at our house, when she and my dad were so serious talking together in the garage. She looks pale, although she smiles at my dad as he pulls up a chair to sit down beside her. He rests his arm across the back of hers just like he had in the pew we shared during the wedding ceremony.
"What's going on?"
When I lean on the table and ask, they look at each other, and I wait, hoping that I haven't upset them by asking. Is she sick? Is there something they don't want to tell me because they don't want me to worry?
When You Were Mine Page 8
