Three
Shiloh had been imagining this moment since she got Mikey’s invitation—but she hadn’t known how to picture Cary. He wasn’t
on Facebook. He didn’t turn up in Google searches.
She kept picturing him the way he’d looked in high school—in his ROTC uniform, weirdly—even though she’d seen him since then...
At their five-year reunion. Standing across from her in the same old circle of friends. She and Cary had hardly spoken that
day. Shiloh had brought Ryan to the reunion; they’d already been married a year. (They hadn’t invited Cary to the wedding.)
Shiloh had been imagining this moment—the moment she’d see Cary again—for months, but even in her imagination, it wouldn’t
mean as much to him as it did to her. Cary wouldn’t have been thinking about it all day. He wouldn’t have been wondering,
worrying, that Shiloh might be here. He wouldn’t have bought a new dress, so to speak, just in case.
Cary looked good. Here. Now. From a distance. He looked sharper than the rest of them, less worn down on the edges. He looked
tan. His hair was still so short...
He turned, almost like he could feel Shiloh watching him. She was too far away to say that their eyes met—or even to know
whether he recognized her—but she smiled a little and raised her hand to wave. Cary waved back. He might just be waving because
someone had waved at him.
Shiloh’s hand dropped. Cary was still looking in her direction.
He stood up and moved behind the bride and groom. He was saying something to Mikey. He glanced up toward Shiloh again, then
shuffled behind the bridesmaids’ chairs and out onto the floor, heading toward her.
Shiloh straightened her jean jacket. (Why was she wearing a jean jacket?) Cary was wearing a navy blue suit; people must not rent tuxes anymore for weddings. He was walking toward her table now, and Shiloh stood up, then thought that she probably shouldn’t have done that—like she was the gentleman, and he was the lady—but it would be weird to sit down now. She straightened her jacket again. Cary was looking at her like, I’m coming . And she nodded like, I see you, and smiled. She waved again, and he waved back. He was nearly there—the tables were packed too tightly, it was slow going.
Shiloh wondered whether she should hug him when he got to her. She’d hugged nearly everyone at the other table, plus some
of their spouses. She’d gotten very good at casual hugging.
“Shiloh,” Cary said when he got to her.
“Cary.” She smiled at him.
He smiled back.
He looked good . Even up close. Cary had blondy-brown hair and a heart-shaped face with a narrow jaw and a pointy chin. She’d only ever seen
him clean-shaven. (Were you allowed to have a beard in the Navy?) He’d been built like a stick of gum back in high school,
but he’d filled out now. He looked grown-up. Settled. He looked like he’d gotten out of North Omaha.
“It’s good to see you,” Shiloh said.
“Yeah,” Cary said, nodding. “You weren’t at the wedding.”
“I wasn’t,” she agreed. “There was a mix-up with my kids.” Did Cary know she had kids?
He nodded, he must know.
“You’re a groomsman,” she said.
“I guess I did so well the first time, I got invited back.”
Shiloh hummed a laugh. “Do you have to give a speech?”
“No, that’s the best man—Bobby. He’s really drunk, so I’m excited to see how it turns out.”
“Maybe you should prepare something just in case.”
“I’ll improvise.”
Shiloh nodded. Then nodded again. “Nice suit.”
Cary looked down. “Thanks. We had tuxes at the last one, but this time, Janine was like, ‘You don’t have to rent a tux, you
can just buy a navy blue suit that you can wear again.’” Cary looked back up at Shiloh. “I don’t think she realizes it’s way more expensive to buy a suit than to rent a tux.”
“She probably doesn’t care.”
“Yeah, probably not. It’s her big day. I’m just an accessory.”
“Did you fly in?”
“Yeah.” Cary nodded. “Yeah.”
“From Virginia?” Shiloh was pointing for some reason.
“From San Diego, actually.”
“Oh.” Shiloh moved her hand to point in the other direction.
“You were right the first time,” Cary said, moving her wrist back.
She laughed, embarrassed. “North, south...”
Cary was laughing, too, a little bit. “East, west.”
“Right, right.”
“I was in Virginia,” he said. “But I got stationed in San Diego two years ago.”
“I thought maybe you were on a boat somewhere...”
“I do work on a ship,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded again. He was still kind of laughing. “But I live in an apartment.”
“So, like, your office is on a ship?”
“Yeah.”
Shiloh was still kind of laughing, too. Even though nothing was funny and everything was awkward. “I don’t have any idea how
the Navy works,” she admitted.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Why would you?”
Yeah. Why would Shiloh know how Cary spent his days and nights? Or where he’d been? What he did, how he felt... “Well,
I do pay your salary,” she said. “So I should really be better informed.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that...”
Shiloh huffed out a laugh. “Have you.”
He was smiling right into her eyes. Shiloh had heels on, so she was a little taller than him. “Mikey says you’re still in
Omaha,” Cary said.
She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I am.”
“He said you’re in theater.”
“I’m not in theater,” she said quickly. “I work at the children’s theater.”
“That’s in theater.”
“It’s mostly administration.”
“It sounds interesting.”
“It’s...” Shiloh was shaking her head. “Very nonprofit.”
“And you have kids. I mean, your own.”
“I do,” she said. “Two. A girl and a boy.”
Cary was nodding.
“Six and almost three,” Shiloh said.
“I should have asked how old.”
“You’re not obligated.”
“Do you have photos?”
“Um...” Did she? She glanced down at her bag.
“It’s okay,” Cary said, looking apologetic. Awkward. “Sorry. I thought you’d want me to ask.”
“I guess I never do that—show pictures. Because I never know what to say when people show me pictures of their kids, and I’m a parent.”
“I usually say, ‘Well, look at that.’”
“That’s a good line.” Shiloh laughed. More naturally. “It’s not that my kids aren’t cute or something. They’re very cute—you’ll
just have to take my word on it.”
“I do.” Cary was smiling again. His mouth was closed, and there were deep lines in his cheeks. He’d always had a face full
of lines—in his cheeks, under his eyes, in his forehead. Even in high school. Like he had a little too much face for the space.
Cary crinkled when he was happy and creased when he was angry.
He was so familiar to Shiloh.
Standing close to him was so familiar.
They could be standing by their lockers. Standing by his mom’s station wagon. Standing in line at a movie theater.
“It’s so weird to be talking to you,” Shiloh said. She tried to laugh when she said it—like, Isn’t it weird? Isn’t it funny?
Cary looked hurt. “It is?”
Shiloh felt her face fall. “It’s so weird to be talking to you,” she said again without laughing, “and not know, you know...
anything .”
Cary pushed his tongue out over his bottom lip.
And not know everything, Shiloh thought.
A waitress swung around their table with a serving cart. She picked up two plates and looked at the elderly couple. “Chicken?
Chicken?”
Shiloh looked at Cary. She had to make this less weird. This was their first conversation in fourteen years, and she didn’t
want it to end like this. She didn’t want it to end . “Maybe we can catch up more...”
“Chicken?” The waitress was pointing at Shiloh.
“Yes,” Shiloh said, “thank you.”
“Chicken,” Cary said, raising his hand.
The waitress dropped two plates on the table in front of them.
Shiloh turned to him. “Don’t you have to sit at the head table?”
“No one will miss me,” he said.
“I think you probably get special food up there...”
“Special chicken?”
“And free beer.”
Cary pulled out her chair. “No one will miss me,” he said again.