The Sixth Wedding #6
Then he sees it: V deciding that this a bad idea, to be touching him, to be saying she’s missing him. Sure enough, she pulls back in her chair, disengages their legs. She starts to gather the trash from the table.
“You don’t have to do that,” J says.
“I’m not leaving out salad bowls for the cleaning staff!”
“I meant pull away. You don’t have to pull away.”
Now he’s standing. Putting his hand on hers, as it holds a salad container.
The room now smells more like salad dressing than it does of either of them. He tries to find her perfume underneath.
“This is why it’s hard to see you,” V says. “This is what I mean. I’m going to throw these out in the kitchen.” She pulls away, then leaves.
She is back quickly but stays in the doorway and then leads him back to the elevator.
She asks again if he’s made sure Tara’s husband-to-be is okay with him singing the song that Tara thinks is hers, and he tells her he’ll do it this afternoon.
She doesn’t ask him for any more details about any other plans he may have.
As they walk back to the elevator, J can hear one of his own songs blasting from an office—no doubt Thor’s. It’s a song from thirteen years ago, a happy song that sprung from his own sadness. A silly lifeboat of a song that other people ended up wanting to climb aboard.
V hears it, too.
“I promise, he’s not just playing it because you’re here. This is one of his favorites.”
“Does it drive you crazy, him playing my music all the time?”
“No,” V says. “I like it.”
And she leaves it at that.
About ten minutes after J leaves, Meta checks up on V.
V is not expecting this. She is at her desk, trying to return to the monotony of her emails, her equivalent of being on a factory floor. Meta comes into the office and closes the door behind her.
“How are you doing?” she asks.
V isn’t sure why Meta thinks she has the standing to ask this particular question in this particular tone.
Is it because they are two of the only women in the office?
Is it because of V’s vulnerable exchange with her last time?
The way Meta asks, it makes V think of her best friend, Glenda, at home.
They talk every few days, and Glenda is always asking her how she’s doing.
But somehow it’s different when it’s face-to-face.
“I’m okay,” V replies.
Meta continues to watch her in the space after, knowing V will have to fill that space with more words.
V continues, “It was weird seeing him here, in the office. I never imagined him here, and suddenly, there he was. With salad. I kept asking myself, Would this be any less weird if we were back home, if he was bringing me salad there ? And I think the answer is it would have been weird there, too.”
“Do you think it’s strange that I’m here?” Meta asks, in a perfectly neutral tone.
V is not expecting this. She hadn’t been thinking of Meta and Thor at all. But she also understands that Meta can only see things through that lens at this stage.
“No,” V replies. “I think the two of you have a connection, and Thor is better for it.”
Meta nods, but doesn’t change her inquisitive stare. “Do you love him?” she asks.
“I do,” V says. “I think he’s wonderful and flawed, and when I see him, it’s definitely love I feel, not hate or indifference.
But the thing is, while all love is made out of the same material, it comes in different shapes and sizes.
And what I need to figure out now is what shape and size my love for him is.
It might not be the shape and size that fits him anymore.
Or fits us—I should have said fits us .”
If this were a conversation with Glenda, she’d have a dozen follow-up questions. But Meta seems satisfied.
“He seems decent,” she says. “But that can also be a drag, you know?”
“Believe me, there are far worse things than nice,” V tells her. “Far, far worse things.”
“I get it. I just thought, you know, you looked a little tense before.”
“I’m okay now. I promise.”
Glenda would say, I’m here for you anytime . Or, Let me know if you want to talk more . Maybe even, Don’t worry—things will work themselves out .
Meta doesn’t have this kind of vocabulary—at least, not for V.
She just says she’ll see V at the three o’clock meeting.
Then as she’s leaving the room, she adds almost as an afterthought, “You know I really love Thor, right?” Her voice climbs out of neutrality, to a mix of defensiveness and concern.
V doesn’t think Meta is fishing for her to say “I’m sure Thor loves you, too”—because how would V know? Instead V says, “I think you make a very good couple,” which is true enough.
Meta surprises her by saying, “Thanks,” softly. Then she leaves the room.
V picks up the phone, tempted to call Glenda to tell her what just happened. Then she puts the phone down. All of this—J’s presence, Meta’s sympathy, the pressure of the afternoon’s meeting—is something she wants to navigate herself. She wants to prove that she has her bearings.
Once J gets back to the apartment, he texts Tara.
Have you told Hugh about my appearance ? he asks.
No. It’s a surprise! ? she replies.
Are you sure that’s a good idea ?
He surprises me all the time...it’ll be fun to have a surprise for once! I asked his sister Lori (my maid of honor) and she agreed. Lori’s the only one who knows, besides the wedding planner and the priest!
J feels reassured by Lori’s opinion.
Looking forward to it! he types.
V calls that night, to make sure he did as he promised.
They end up talking for twenty minutes, mostly about her day.
He asks her if she wants to come to the wedding with him, and she says no.
Not a no, because I already have plans or a no, I don’t want to be doing that with you again .
Just an unambiguous-in-decision, ambiguous-in-cause no .
J thinks it’s a little strange to be lying in bed in the same city (albeit a different borough) and talking on the phone.
He makes what are (to him) the slightest of hints that maybe they should hang up and continue in person, but she passes them by, signs for exits she’s not taking.
He is happy to have her be the last voice he hears before he goes to sleep. And at the same time, he wishes he could reach out and find her there in the bed, to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.
J takes some time on Friday to rework the payphone song. It’s like going back to a house where he once lived and rearranging the furniture; it might end up being an improvement, but it will still seem unfamiliar.
By the time the sun sets, he’s pretty much done with the song. He messages V to see what she’s up to. She replies, Work, and that’s that.
Next he messages Skye, to ask how they’re doing. Messy is their reply. Want to talk ? J offers, thinking it would be nice to see Skye again. He’s disappointed when Skye responds, Had to go out of town for the weekend to think things through. Sorry. Are you still around next week ?
I think so ? J replies. There is another wedding on the horizon that will require travel, but if he doesn’t stop at home first, he might be able to get another week here.
Tara and Hugh’s wedding is at a hotel in Jersey City, overlooking the Manhattan skyline. J arrives an hour early, partly to situate himself and partly because he thought New Jersey was much farther away than it really is (a mistake most people make; the Hudson River isn’t that wide).
He realizes too late that Tara hasn’t given him instructions.
He is already a little self-conscious because he is wearing the same suit he wore to the fake wedding, although he is fairly certain that nobody from that wedding will be attending this one.
..and even if they do, what he wore was the least memorable part of that wedding.
He also has his guitar case, which always garners looks when striding through a hotel lobby or into a ballroom where a wedding has been set up.
As he walks in, he sees a cluster of old men in tuxedos talking in a corner.
Their talking stops when he enters the room, and almost immediately he feels like a trespasser and hopes he has picked the right wedding in the right ballroom; he imagines any hotel with a skyline view will be packed to bursting with weddings on a Saturday night.
One of the older men says something to his cohorts, then strides over.
From his age and genteel bearing, J imagines this is Tara’s or Hugh’s father.
J is expecting a Can I help you ? But what he gets instead is a blunter, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Tara,” J replies. “Can you tell me where she is? Or maybe the wedding planner?”
“Christ, you’ve got a lot of nerve,” the man replies.
“Tara invited me,” J says, taken aback by the father’s vitriol. “This is Tara’s wedding, isn’t it?”
“This is our wedding,” the man says. “And I guarantee, you’re not on the guest list.”
“Hugh?” J asks, confused. “I’m J—”
“I know exactly who you are. And if you think you can waltz in here and make trouble...”
This completely breaks the tension for J, because it’s so ridiculous.
He laughs. “I’m not here to make trouble. I’m just here to sing a song as part of the wedding. It was supposed to be a surprise for you. Please, just ask Tara. Or the wedding planner. Or Lori.”
“Like I’d trust Lori!”
“The wedding planner, then.”
“Fine,” Hugh says. Then he turns to his cohort and yells, “Will one of you go get Maria? The planner? She’s probably in with the girls.” As one of the men runs off, Hugh tells J, “You wait here.”
J is relieved that when the wedding planner arrives, she does not seem at all disturbed by his presence.
“You knew about this?” Hugh accuses.
“Yes,” Maria replies calmly. “This was meant to be a surprise.”
“Some surprise!” Hugh says to Maria. Then he turns again on J. “Have you and my wife been talking all this time? That would be one helluva fucking surprise.”