Chapter 2
Two Months Later
There are already about a hundred wedding guests filling the reception tent by the time Lilliam, Preethi, Joey, and I walk into it.
Ms. Waters’s wedding ceremony was beautiful.
And mind-bending. To think, my own parents’ wedding had probably been just as joyous.
They had no idea how things would turn out.
No one can see the end from the beginning.
I decide to forget about all that for now and just enjoy the beauty.
The reception tent is decorated with poppies, Ms. Waters’s favorite, filling the space with splashes of bright colors to create a maximalist wonderland. Nothing bland or understated about it.
“I still can’t get over seeing all of us dressed up like this,” I say. “Joey’s in a tie, and he looks nice. What’s this world coming to?”
“You look good, too,” says Joey. He means all of us, but he’s looking only at Preethi.
Preethi leans in conspiratorially. “Lilliam lent me her closet. You should see her closet.”
I crane my neck, looking for Gray, but I don’t see him anywhere.
It’s been two weeks since our Saturday sessions with Ms. Waters ended.
The sessions have been hard. All of us have cried at least twice.
Ms. Waters, too. Since then—in a show of totally reckless and wonderful unprofessionalism—she’s kept in touch with us.
It’s not the same as being in the same room together, but it’s good enough.
Most of the time we don’t even talk about our issues, not explicitly.
We’ve developed a shorthand of abbreviations and emojis to vent, or show support, or just keep tabs on what’s going on.
Like when I finally agreed to meet Dad’s New Girlfriend (DNG). I saw that he’s happy with her. DNG awkward but ok, I wrote. Upside down smiley emoji.
Mom’s not ready to date yet, but she’s happier, too.
The truth is, both of them are happier now than they were together. I can finally say that out loud.
As for the others?
Joey has learned the power of keeping his phone on “Do Not Disturb,” forcing his parents to war with each other directly instead of through him. He’s proudly abdicated all responsibility for their battles. And guess what, they battle less as a result.
Instead of spending all his time on his phone, Joey now spends it with (no surprise) Preethi.
Who, by the way, bravely shut down her parents’ recent idea to have a joint family vacation—with their new significant others and their new significant others’ kids.
Any normal person would without hesitation flag that as much too much, or as just plain weird.
Preethi’s parents are different. She now knows this.
Lilliam has rejected all materialism and now lives humbly in a van by the levee.
Just kidding—she’s milking her mom and dad just as hard as ever for the sweet, sweet luxury swag, only now she’s come to terms with the fact that far from being good parents, they are self-absorbed narcissists who can only be depended on for a certain few things.
Lilliam’s instead hanging out more with her uncle and his wife, who love to do normal human things like sit and talk and bond.
They don’t completely fill the gaps left by her parents, but at least they allow her to feel truly seen and cared for.
As for Gray, his dad is now one month sober, with the token to prove it.
They still can’t talk to save their lives—bros being bros—but to their credit they’ve begun fishing together, of all things.
Gray tells us that fishing is a “third thing” that lets them talk without talking, zip-mouth emoji, heart emoji.
His dad hasn’t found a DNG yet, because, as he’s said in so many words, his first priority is his son.
In the last selfie Gray sent, he wasn’t dressed entirely in black. His T-shirt was—
“Pink,” I whisper.
Gray approaches. Pink suit, bright-white shirt, open collar. He glows.
“Hi,” says Gray.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” says Gray.
“Hi,” I say.
Preethi bites her thumb. “They’re glitching. Someone do something.”
“Kids!” shouts a voice. It’s Ms. Waters. Next to her is her brand-new husband, Ed.
“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” she says, pulling us each into rocking hugs.
Ed shakes each of our hands, but he lingers on Gray.
“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” he says.
Gray rubs the back of his neck, slightly nervous. “Sir, can I just say, I’m so sorry about—”
Ed waves him off. “I’m glad it happened. It sparked a whole conversation between me and Claire. One we needed to have.”
Gray blinks. “Really?”
Ms. Waters and Ed exchange a knowing look. “Really, really,” says Ed. “In fact, I want to say thank you.”
From behind Ed, I give Gray a look: What’s happening? Gray smiles back: Not exactly sure, but something good.
The DJ shouts something, and Ms. Waters and Ed get called away for their first dance.
There’s no phone ban here—everyone holds up a screen to capture the moment.
Then the DJ shouts something else, and suddenly the dance floor gets flooded with people dancing their fool heads off.
Preethi and Joey nearly punch out an old lady with their moves. Lilliam guides them somewhere safer.
Then, unbelievably, the DJ puts on a song that makes my heart turn over.
That old Bob Marley song. I know the words by heart.
Gray stands off to the side with his arms gorgeously folded across his chest, nodding to the beat. I stand a few feet away, doing the same thing.
“You two have been dancing around each other for weeks now,” shouts a voice. It’s Preethi. Behind her dances Joey, off in his own little world. “It’s time you get your asses out on the floor and dance for real!”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I don’t really dance.”
Gray eyes his toes. “Me neither. No disrespect to Bob or any of his Wailers.”
I smile. Of course we have that in common.
Preethi hauls me and Gray in close and breathes into our faces. “Party poopers!” she screeches. Is she drunk? Or not? Would there be any difference with her?
“You need to stop glitching out and dance, together, now!” she growls. I laugh, terrified of her. Then she slams us together—again, the most physical contact I’ve ever had with Gray—and shoves us out onto the dance floor.
“I do not consent to this,” babbles Gray.
“No one cares!” yells Preethi.
For a long moment, Gray and I stand amid the swaying crowd, trying not to touch one another. But an old lady—the one Joey almost coldcocked—gently lifts my left arm and sets it on Gray’s waist. She takes Gray’s right arm and wraps it around my hip. Then she joins both our free hands together.
“There,” she says.
All we can do is laugh and avoid looking into each other’s eyes. The problem is, there’s nowhere else to look but into each other’s eyes.
So we do. I forget for a second that I am touching him and he is touching me. I can see every curve and line of his face this close up. They would make a lovely portrait.
“So this is happening, huh,” I say.
Gray nods. “Finally.”
And we dance, slowly swaying back and forth, back and forth, completely out of tempo.