Track 43 Something Good
Track 43
Something Good
The Party According to Dylan
It was Dylan who switched on the ignition, threw the first punch, fired the shot heard round the world, or around Fire Island at least.
Things had been going swimmingly on the We’re Here . After dinner, and their killer toast, everyone was invited upstairs for dancing, dessert, and the big surprise—fireworks.
The bride and groom made their grand entrance to the usual, “Let’s welcome the happy couple for their first dance as husband and wife.”
All eyes were fixed on Renee and Jake as they moved across the dance floor to Etta James crooning their song, “A Sunday Kind of Love.” Dylan suddenly found her view blurred by tears. As she’d said in the toast, at first it had seemed bizarre to think of her dad and Matt’s mom being together, but she soon saw it as a wonderful thing. She was no longer concerned about Jake’s loneliness or his winter diet of canned soup. However, it went beyond that, far beyond. Seeing him glide around the floor as if he were auditioning for Dancing with the Stars , gazing into the eyes of his wife, was extraordinary. Just like the lyrics described, her dad was in love— a love to last past Saturday night, a love that’s more than love at first sight.
Observing their togetherness in the days leading up to the wedding was inspiring—so much so that it had inspired her to end her relationship with Sunburn Steve—not that it had been much of a relationship to begin with. She was done wasting time on meh. She, too, wanted a Sunday Kind of Love.
Soon, the DJ called the bridal party to the dance floor and Matt asked Dylan to dance. Ben and Addison joined in with their little flower girls. It was an excellent twirling opportunity, and both Maisie and Juno took full advantage of it. Soon, the rest of the guests joined in as well, and despite the more adorable distractions, many eyes were focused on Matt and Dylan, who were clearly the crowd favorites when it came to coupling conjecture. Whispers and wishful speculation around them ran deep. In fact, it wasn’t all whispers. On more than one occasion over the long weekend, someone said some variation of “We always thought it would be you two getting hitched.”
Dylan knew that they were looking in the wrong direction. Matt was really into Maggie. She could tell by the way he looked at her. She should know. He had looked at her that same way for most of her life and she had been grateful for it. The love and attention he showed her growing up as a motherless island-dwelling weirdo had gone a long way to shape who she was today.
She wondered if Maggie felt the same about Jason. She craned her neck over Matt’s shoulder, scanning the crowd for them. She saw Beatrix and Paul swing by, her head resting on his shoulder, Little Les from the market and his beautiful wife looking like they should get a room, and Shep proudly spinning his redheaded younger daughter around the dance floor, both with so much love in their eyes. Everyone was feeling the song, feeling the moment.
And then she saw Maggie and Jason. They were dancing, and they were smiling, but they were deep in conversation. She’d seen it before. Hell, she’d even done it before. That awkward slow dance with a friend, where small talk substituted for passion:
Isn’t it a beautiful night?
Could that lady’s dress be any uglier?
I was hoping for pigs in the blanket.
Maggie and Jason did not share a Sunday Kind of Love.
She caught Maggie looking in their direction. She quickly looked away, but not before Dylan witnessed the longing look in her eyes.
Dylan’s favorite line from The Sound of Music popped into her head, and she smiled to herself. She and Matty would watch it on rainy days when they were kids. Back when the totality of their movie choices came from a milk crate brimming with VHS tapes. The Sound of Music , along with The Wizard of Oz , Drop Dead Fred , and Jumanji , were played on repeat until they could both recite every line.
“What’s funny?” he asked.
She whispered in his ear in her best Austrian baroness accent:
“Somewhere out there is a young lady who I think will never be a nun.”
Before Matt even got it, before he could deny it, Dylan made her move. She steered them in the direction of Maggie and Jason, took a step in between them, and said, “May I cut in?”
Maggie’s reaction further gave her away. She blushed, her eyes widened, and a telling grin formed on her face. Though she quickly tucked away her emotions, it was too late. It was obvious that Maggie very much wanted to dance with Matt.
And Dylan was left to make small talk with a reluctant dance partner.
“Isn’t it a beautiful night?” she asked Jason.
As Matt and Maggie sashayed by, clearly lost in the music and each other’s eyes, Jason was barely listening to her. His gaze was fixed on his fiancée and Matt, who were dancing as if they had been dancing together all their lives.
“Wow, they’re really laying it on thick for the crowd,” Dylan noted.
Jason shook his head in the way one does when one’s mind is elsewhere.
Time was running out for Matt and Maggie to realize what was so obvious to Dylan—but she hadn’t taken poor Jason’s feelings into account when manipulating the situation. He was a nice guy. She felt badly about it.
“Maggie’s a good actress,” she added, hoping to ease his pain.
“Actually, she’s not. Like really not.”
Maggie and Matt sashayed by again. The boat could have sunk beneath them, and they wouldn’t have noticed.
“Will you excuse me?” Jason asked. “I don’t feel much like dancing. I’m going to go down for a drink. Want anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Dylan stood and watched for a bit more while Matt sang the last verse in Maggie’s ear, “ A Sunday, Sunday, Sunday kind of love ,” and though she knew that this corny old song and the woman who was singing it were probably one of his old- school favorites, she also knew that his display was spurred by more than loving Etta James. Matt was loving Maggie.
The song ended and the two of them came flying off the dance floor in Dylan’s direction, still hand in hand.
“Where’s J?” Maggie asked, quickly enough. She abruptly dropped Matt’s hand.
It was obvious that Maggie loved Jason deeply. But Dylan loved Matt deeply, so she knew the deal. It wasn’t enough.
“He went downstairs, to the bar,” she answered.
Maggie’s face fell. Not quickly and all at once, more like a pinpricked pool float slowly losing air.
“I’m going to go and find him,” she stated, and headed for the steps.
She was no longer sashaying.