Pursuing Sarah (Sarah Series Book 2) Page 8

  I meandered to the table where Maggie sat with Charlie. She looked less than enthused. Even less than me, and I was trying to seem happy for the new couple, despite the envy inside me, creeping up to my throat, strangling my vocal cords from their usual singsong way of talking. Today I was mastering robotic noises…fake smiles…and thumbs-up every now and then when the bride would look at me, beaming with sunshine and daffodils. I plopped down next to her and took Charlie to sit on my lap. He was instantly drawn to my shiny necklace and began pulling it.

  “Hey girl.”

  “Hey.”

  “Why so happy?” I asked, letting Charlie stand on my knees. So what if I wore silk today.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Any finer, and I’d have to hose you down, throw a tarp on you, or harness all that delight and bottle it to sell. Heck, I’d buy it. Now, what gives?”

  “Just look at him. Look at him over there. With all his buddies…talking about stupid things, no doubt. Like sports, or…or…something stupid. Certainly it’s more important than being with his wife and child.” She wore a perfect sneer while she cut her eyes at Michael.

  I looked to where she was sending invisible darts with her eyes. Michael leaned up against the wall, smiling and shooting the breeze with a couple other guys I’d never seen him with. They’d certainly never hung out with us and our cool group. In fact, we hadn’t exactly been hanging out doing our weekly dinner since Carter decked him. Maggie asked why the following week after it happened, and I played it off, pretending not to hear, and confessing Rose wasn’t feeling well. Germs scared her more than terrorists.

  “I thought things were going well. What’s up?”

  Charlie pulled at my necklace from his standing position. Pretty soon I was going to get hung. I tried prying it away, and sat him down to play with the sugar packets and cutlery on the table. What plastic butter knife ever went down in history as cutting a child?

  Maggie leaned over and buried her head in her hand. She wore a solid purple dress with a sensible sweater. I loved her to death, but she looked like me in middle school. When I was at the height of my fashion crisis.

  “Do you think I made a mistake marrying Michael?”

  Yes. But I couldn’t tell her that. I mean, there was a time I thought they were cute. Just like Meg and Tyler. But let’s face it, they were incompatible. Completely. Michael was fifth gear, and Maggie was first. A slow first. She wanted the picket fence, the organic garden, and Michael wanted Vegas and unrefined sugar. They were the complete opposite.

  “Why are you questioning marrying Michael?”

  “The counselor asked us to go back and list what attracted us to each other. Common plan of attack to get us focused on what was once good. I don’t know if I like her or not.”

  “Okay?”

  “Well, I loved his spontaneity, the way I felt safe when I was with him, and… And I couldn’t think of anything else. I mean, he’s handsome…when he’s not being a complete jerk.”

  “Why did you marry him, then? You’re not spontaneous, Maggie. I remember having to ask you for a sleepover, a month in advance.”

  She pressed her eyes shut. “I know. But I wanted to be spontaneous. And then we went on that trip to Mexico, and I sort of had too much to drink, and the next thing I knew, we were getting married. It seemed so right.”

  “And now it doesn’t?”

  “Mom warned me. She thought I’d lost my mind when I began keeping company with him. But I’d run into him a few times, he had this wonderful job, this smile that would throw Ryan Gosling under the bus.” She fanned herself, looking at him. “And he’d just come off a bad relationship. And I thought I could fix him. Not to mention my head swelled twice its size when he asked me to go to Mexico. Do you know the last guy I dated before Michael was Jim Tyrone?”

  Jim was nice…nice for company. Like background music when you’re cooking. You just didn’t want him as the main attraction for anything. Nice was as good as it got with poor Jim. I was a firm believer, like with me, he’d find his perfect soul mate.

  “Mistake number one. Never think you can fix someone, Maggie. You know better. We give them the tools, and it’s up to them to do the repair.”

  “You think I’d know better. I mean, I’m a psychiatrist. Of course I’m educated enough to hand out some tools, a bit of advice…but to marry him so he’s never lonely? Or me, so that I’m never lonely? You have no idea how bad it hurt when I broke up with Jason. We’d dated for two years in college.”

  But Jason didn’t want to move to Calvert. He was a guy from California. And he was returning there. Maggie couldn’t leave her mother and hometown. It wasn’t to be for them. Obviously she was still pining for the guy, maybe even second-guessing her decision not to move away now.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Everything happens for a reason.”

  “Now I can’t even bear to see the man chew steak. Everything about him galls me. He doesn’t even realize I’d like to put jock itch cream on his toothbrush at night.”

  “Maggie!” I smacked her on the shoulder.

  “What? Maybe that would make him say something to me. Communicate instead of grunt every now and then. I swear, I’m living with a caveman.”

  I gave Charlie some snacks that Maggie had on the table. Some odd dried-up cookie things in an orange Tupperware container. I noticed Michael was watching us.

  Liz threw a plate of everything on the table and sat down. “That line is horrible, and the people are rude. The guy in front of me stunk like shoe leather and armpits. All he did was breathe heavy. I felt like I was standing next to Darth Vader and he needed a stick of antiperspirant more than a light saber.”

  “Okay. Well, the food looks good, anyway.” I peered at her plate of coleslaw, roasted carrots, and there was a blob of green stuff…oh yes, pistachio salad. I remember it was Tyler’s favorite, Meg mentioned. The gravy over the turkey and thick-cut bread looked to die for. I rubbed my stomach and thought I’d snack on a sugar packet to hold me over.

  Her Adonis sat down next to her, grinning like an ad in Men’s Health. I needed to shop for men where Liz did, obviously. Or just wait until she was finished with them. I think I’ve determined the shelf life of them to be exactly four days…six if they were really well rounded in all the right places, she’d say.

  Maggie took Charlie and stood. “I’m going to go and get a plate. The line doesn’t look that bad now.”

  “I’ll help.” I left with her and spied Carter by the table with the wedding cake on it. He was alone, although I did see him at the ceremony with an unidentified date. “Maggie, I’ll be right there.”

  I got closer to Carter. “No sneaking.”

  “Hey.” His eyes rolled down the length of my dress. “Wow.”

  I fidgeted with my necklace, hoping not to seem twelve, or hot and bothered by the compliment. “Hey.”

  “You look amazing.”

  Commence the blush. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  Black suit, white starched shirt, with a red tie. He’d shaven that morning, it looked like. And even combed through his hair with nylon bristles, it appeared. Usually on school mornings, I’d see him raking through it with his hand, in the reflection of the trophy case. He even wore cologne—woodsy and warm. Inviting, to say the least. I felt some rumbling in the hormone region of my body.

  “I thought that was you at the church. But Liz said last week that you were bringing a date. You didn’t bring a date?”

  Why did the mention of me come up with Liz and Carter? And speaking of a date, no less? I needed to find and ask Liz. Possibly with a bright light and tweezers for when she didn’t provide the answers I was looking for.

  “Nah. Just me and my pip-squeak.” I pointed her out, playing with plushes on the small platform where I supposed a band would soon jump up and assemble to play music. So far there was just noise of plates and forks clashing. It was as if these people never ate.

  “Aww, she’s
cute. And her hair is adorable.” I put it up for the occasion. At one point, she thought she was going to be the bride.

  “And you’re with…” I waited for him to fill in the blank.

  “Oh, right. I’m here with Chasity.”

  I scrunched my face. “Chasity?”

  “She works at the Daily Grind. You might’ve seen her.”

  It was becoming clear. “You mean the girl with a million different hair bows?”

  True story: every time I went in for coffee, her bows matched her outfit. And they were large bows. The ones that stick out, larger than her head. Rose was jealous and wanted a few of her own when she saw them one day. Poor thing, the bow would’ve swallowed her head whole.

  “I kind of told her to leave the bow home today.”

  “I totally agree. Is she channeling Minnie Mouse, or what? I know I’ve seen one of every color. I tend to buy a lot of coffee.” And their lemon pound cake is to pay excessively for, with that powdered sugar that draws you in like crack.

  “I wouldn’t know. I only see you with a cup every morning.”

  He noticed?

  “Well, now you know my secret fuel. And I know your secret obsession with animated mice.”

  “Hey. She was free last minute.”

  I crossed my arms and smiled. “Well, I better get in that line. Or find someone to chat up while I steal a closer spot to the depleting glazed carrots.”

  “Yeah. Save me a dance later?”

  “If I haven’t found the sharpest butter knife and sharpened it on my wrists, I’ll save one for sure.”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I turned to leave and he pulled my arm.

  “Sarah, talk to me.”

  “Really, it’s just your typical wedding bells and a lot of Ghosts of Christmas Past creeping up on me. I’ll get over it. Do they have liquor?” I stretched my neck, looking for a bar. As if a church would really have a rollaway one that they bring out for weddings and baptisms.

  “Um, we’re in a church. I doubt it.”

  “And the day just gets better.” I smiled and walked toward the table where Liz sat, chatting it up with her international model man, Mr. Bushy.

  I scooted up a chair next to her. “Care to tell me why Carter thought I was bringing a date?”

  She jerked her head back. “Excuse me?”

  “I would, but I have a feeling you lied on my behalf. But not really on my behalf, because I didn’t tell you to.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay, so he might’ve mentioned he wondered if you had a date.”

  I hit her. Hard. On the arm. Her man gave me a look and after I returned it, he dove into the pistachio salad. “Liz!”

  “What?”

  “I wouldn’t have minded him asking me.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s not good to mix personal with personal. I’ve thought about it. I mean, look what happened with you and Michael. Now we can’t even have our dinners. And that was the only day I didn’t eat Stouffers and suffer sodium shock. I miss our dinners.” Her lip protruded out and she stuffed another piece of turkey in her mouth. “And Lord knows, not enough people get married around here to get this every weekend.”

  “What does that have to do with him asking me?”

  “Because if something happened, then ended, which it would because Carter isn’t commitment material and you would soon find out, we’d never have our dinners, camping trips, and mid-week mixers during exam weeks. It would all go up in smoke. And I can’t afford that to happen.”

  “Isn’t commitment material? What makes you think—”

  “Oh please. Because I hear the way you say his name. And how you ask if I’ve seen him yet, and you bring cake for the lounge and its Carter’s favorite.”

  “I’m just being polite.”

  “No, you’re beginning to like him. Which was fine when you didn’t like like him. But it’s just wrong. Now fixate on someone else. Someone outside of the club.”

  “I think it was you who only a month ago told me to take him up on sleeping with him.”

  “That’s when I thought you needed a release, and it was no big deal. This would definitely be a big deal. You’ve made it into a big deal. Just look at you now!”

  I crossed my arms and watched Rose. She was laughing and having a wonderful time with her friend. I walked over to her and asked whether I could get her something. Bea squatted next to me.

  “Sarah, if you don’t mind, Kendall needs a ride home from work, and his car is in the shop. I’ve got to go and get him.”

  “Sure, I can watch the little ladies.” I smiled and fixed Rose’s lace on her dress.

  “No, I was actually going to ask if Rose could go with Shana. She gets so bored traveling to the city alone. They could gab and watch a Disney movie. I can stop and feed them pizza. We’ll be home before too late.”

  “What do you say, Rose? Do you want to take a ride to the city? Bea says she’ll take you for pizza.”

  “And ice cream?” she piped in.

  “Yay. Please, Mommy?” Rose clasped her hands. “I promise to be good.”

  “You got it.” I turned to Bea. “Thanks for inviting her. She has the best time with Shana.”

  “You must know what it’s like to only have one child. They’re always on the lookout for something to do. Rose is her favorite thing to do.” She gave a motherly smile.

  “I do know that.”

  I bent and kissed Rose on the cheek. “Listen and be a good girl.”

  An hour after Rose left, I was ready to leave. The band never showed up, so Robert hooked up the sound system to his computer and began taking requests. Meg and Tyler were younger, so we endured pop until someone mentioned Marvin Gaye. Liz found the coolers out back that were camouflaged as the open bar. Tyler’s black sheep of a brother had it stowed quite ingeniously underneath the evergreen bushes. She brought in a very strong concoction, and I was nursing my third one, trying not to get caught looking at Carter, and tapping my foot. I had transported to another place. I was certainly not here, and certainly not at my own reception at the botched wedding I commandeered five years ago. Vows, schmows. Sam didn’t believe a word he repeated.

  “Excuse me? Would you like to dance?”

  I looked up to see a boy by my chair. His blue tie and sports jacket looked for Sunday wearing only—crisp and not a worn spot on them—and his loafer style shoes could’ve meant high school or college. His clear face told me college was more likely. I turned to see who he was speaking to.

  “No, I meant you,” he repeated.

  I touched my dress and looked surprised. It was my favorite dance song, after all. I think they played it in How Stella Got Her Groove Back. Sounded good to me!

  I stood and realized all the liquor was scurrying to my extremities. My head swirled, and I felt a warm rush of smiles and groove flow through me. He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. A lot of other people were dancing and seemed not to mind I was with a kid, getting my own groove on.

  He held my hands and swayed a lot. My head fell back, laughing. This was fun. Too much fun, in fact. I felt like a bendable little figure—my arms flailed; my hips gyrated. Yep, this was just what the doctor ordered. Cougar time!

  “What’s your name?” I shouted in his ear. He smelled like one of those little cards you find tucked in magazines.

  “Brice.”

  Me likey Brice. I laughed out loud and shook my hips some more. He pulled me to his chest and swung me out again. I felt as if I stood on a cloud. This was so much better than that chair at that depressing table. Maggie was still there, flicking at one of Charlie’s toys and lamenting on her broken marriage, and Charlie was in the arms of his dad. Who looked as equally miserable. Liz was on the dance floor, sharing laughs and a bunch more touches from her dance partner. She winked at me once when Brice twirled me.

  I stopped looking for Carter and resolved that we were better as committed dinner partners once a week
. Anything that was that difficult to get going wasn’t meant to be, and I couldn’t bear to destroy any more dreams with trying to date someone I actually liked. After all, I liked the consistency of our friendship. And that’s what would keep me grounded and stop my mind from wandering to other crazy thoughts. Like he was the one swinging me on the dance floor.

  After three songs, I came in for a landing. Brice kissed my hand and walked off to another table. Bless his little yuppie body for that twirl and mini-vacation from reality. These old bones could only hang for so long without a rest stop. Sad but true. I stretched out in the rock-hard chair beside Maggie and gulped down the melted ice in my glass. I could feel my heart rate slow to normal. Luckily I wasn’t having any more whiplash pain from the accident.

  “Michael, take Sarah home. She’s in no shape to drive. I’m getting a ride with Jones.”

  That’s what she called the librarian of Shady Library. His name was John, but when we were in elementary and not the brightest, we got confused with how similar his first and last name was. I called him John now, but Maggie preferred Jones.

  Michael handed Charlie to her. Poor guy was sleeping by now. He’d eaten his wedding cake and nose-dived with the binky. Michael tried to take it away, saying he was too old, but Maggie gave him the evil eye of “don’t mess with my son” and the binky won.

  “I’m fine, Maggie. I’ll get Liz to take me home.”

  “Honey, Liz left with Antonio.”

  “Antonio? That was his name?” I felt a bit woozier than before I put exercise to liquor.

  “I doubt it. It’s probably Marvin. Antonio just goes more with the tan and long hair. And anyway, Michael has nothing else to do. He can take you.”

  Michael looked at me. “You ready to go?”

  Maggie was putting the diaper bag across her shoulder—Charlie’s head balanced on the other one.

  “Ah, sure.”

  He held out his arm, waiting for me to go first. What could possibly happen traveling five miles back to my home?