wedding favors

two

As we step away from my dad, I look back at him with a bit of a wistful glance. He looks younger than he has in years; he looks happy and strong and handsome in his gray wedding tuxedo. My dad has become a bit of a stranger to me since we lost my mom. He has always been supportive, but at a distance. Like a cheerleader for hire. Sometimes, I'm not really sure what I would prefer. The silence, the freedom-filled loneliness, are those worth more than a relationship with him? Not the kind of relationship that we show others, where he brings me to Hawai'i and pretends that he knew that my favorite fruit is pineapple. I mean the kind that movie teenagers can brag about. Stanley Tucci would probably be a fantastic stand-in father. Dad had him cast as one, once.

I step lightly after Reed. I try not to look back at the bride-groom's table again. Not once. I do look toward Carleigh for a moment, only to see her giggling with a different wealthy teenager. Her hair is starting to fall out of its bun, and it makes her look like the life of the party. When we find Brenton in the crowd, I see that he's wearing that smile of his again. The trapping kind, the alluring and handsome, mysterious and powerful smile.

He would be a fantastic corporate CEO, someday.

I realize that my walk has slowed to a near crawling pace. Then, I notice that Reed has paused to wait for me.

"Sorry." I reach down to my shoes to adjust the strap where my skin has started to blister. Reed's gaze follows my movement, and I see him offer a sympathetic wince.

"You apologize a lot," he muses, in a quiet tone as he offers another macaron to someone, whom I recognize as Dad's lawyer. "My mom likes to say that you should save those."

"Your mom sounds nice." I don't say that I'm probably dropping apologies left and right because I've saved so many, because I've gotten so used to feeling untouchable. At some point in my adolescence, I decided that so many of these acquaintances never deserved her concern--that really, truthfully, respect and relevancy only matter when they are earned. And so, I've detached. I want proof of meaning. It was a trick I learned from Carleigh, who can take it to the extreme. Rather than be used, Carleigh always chooses to be the user. "That's my new mom, right there." We both look towards Charlotte, who looks beautiful in her trumpeted wedding dress. It cascades down her tall figure, and she practically sparkles. I'm almost jealous of how carefree she looks now on what I know to be one of the most stressful days of her life.

I am so reluctant to speak to anyone here that I wonder if I've lost authenticity. Maybe along the path where Dad became a stranger, despite never losing his love. I look across the room, searching for a familiar face to cling to. Brenton is standing next to his father, smiling, his eyes looking insincere. I know how he feels. He is unhappy. He will sacrifice connection for duty, and it hasn't failed him so far. I think I feel my heart crack.

Reed has paused again, waiting for me to finish my moment. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I am."

I follow him diligently. I greet the familiar faces, always the polite daughter that I am expected to be. I thank them all for coming and try not to make it too obvious that I am so bored, she has resorted to following a stranger around.

By the end of the night, I have exhausted my reserves. After the speech I gave in front of the whole reception, I have gotten so tired of all the talking and congratulations. Reed and I give each other silent waves of goodbye when Dad finally catches up to me and asks me to take a last round. Once we've talked to all the executives on his next movie, I break away. I know that my dad will be busy, so I sneak out the side door and catch Reed leaving his shift.

"You're pretty quiet, you know," Reed says. He stops at a beat up van, parked near the bike rack that sits adjacent to the beach entrance of the venue. "I almost forgot you were behind me tonight."