Chapter 59
WILLIAM
When they returned to the tent, the plates were being cleared.
Soiled napkins were plucked from tablecloths and thrown atop teetering stacks of dishes.
Instinctually, William reached for a forgotten fork, but then pulled his hand back; that was not his responsibility here.
He let the waiters weave around him, a pebble in their stream.
On the stage, the full band was now warming up.
Men in white tuxedos wet their reeds and tested the spring of a snare drum, punctuating the guests’ conversation with guitar scales and the tin clomp of a high hat.
Many of the younger guests had begun to stand, stirred by the promise of music and dancing, buoyed by the wine at dinner.
Andrew was talking to the bandleader, a bald, impossibly tall man who had to crane down from the stage to hear what was being said.
Shay waited nearby, surveying the crowd—just like at the welcome drinks, as if she were looking for someone.
“I don’t know how to—” William began to say to Joel, but he was interrupted by the bandleader booming over the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, in their first dance, Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Pruitt.”
Andrew took Shay by the hand as the music swelled, guiding her to the center of the parquet floor as the band played the incessant opening notes of “I Only Have Eyes for You.” Everyone gathered at the floor’s edges except for the oldest relatives, who had seen enough dancing in their lifetimes and could remain in their seats.
“I’ll be back in a minute. I just need some air,” Joel said.
William nodded. There was nothing they could do during the dance, he supposed, and Joel looked pale.
Should William have told him to leave? Would that have been the merciful thing to do for someone who was clearly so heartbroken?
Perhaps, but selfishly, he didn’t want to be alone anymore.
He’d been alone so much over the past few days and, in other ways, in the months before that.
Alone in the church pews, alone kneeling on carpets, alone in the hot chaos of the kitchen, alone in the stillness of his thin-walled apartment.
Andrew and Shay shuffled back and forth.
Neither had much showmanship, so there were no dips or spins.
Andrew had obviously knocked back a few drinks with dinner; his cheeks were flushed pink, and his smile was loose and easy.
William could see Oscar and Scott getting another round at the bar.
Vivian was with some of the bridesmaids, swaying in rhythm, and William’s mother stood shoulder to shoulder with her own sister.
“Now, please, everyone, join the young couple on the dance floor,” the bandleader said.
Shay leaned close to Andrew’s ear and whispered something, and his brow furrowed. William’s abs clenched. He felt for his knife, looking around the tent to see if she had spotted the man, but it felt impossible to get a clear picture of the crowd. Everyone was in motion.
Guests swarmed the dance floor, the tempo quickening as a new song began.
All of the younger friends and relatives were not used to dancing to big band music, but they gave in to the theatrics of it, employing all the rusty choreography they’d been taught in gymnasiums and country clubs.
Their heels pattered like thunder on the floor.
“Get out there,” his aunt Pam said. She’d appeared beside him, pointing to the commotion as if he possibly hadn’t seen it. Her forehead shone, her grin as joyful as one of her dogs’.
“Maybe later,” he said. He should find Joel.
“Come on, have some fun,” she urged. “I’d be out there if I could find my husband.”
He obediently moved toward the floor to appease her.
Oscar was dancing with Shay’s friend Grace, who was laughing as he urged her into a whiplash of a twirl.
Mrs. Pruitt was with Mr. Pruitt, Vivian with Scott, bridesmaids with groomsmen.
It smelled like sweat, like cologne and roses.
Shay and Andrew were nowhere in sight, but that may have been because it was difficult to see anyone in this tumult of bodies, even with William’s height.
“Dance with me?”
Shay’s friend Katherine was at his side, looking a bit overwhelmed, like she was hovering on the high dive, deciding whether to jump in.
He had always liked Katherine. Once, she’d had him read through lines with her—the Billy to her Hope—and said he could be an actor, though in hindsight he most definitely could not, and she’d always waved to him in the hallways, smiling when she said his name.
“Please?” She laughed, and he took her hand. It would help to be on the dance floor, even though it embarrassed him to dance with her, to even lace their fingers together; it seemed like the only way out was through.
The new song was familiar, and it took him another minute to realize it was “Crocodile Rock,” even more overdone, all trumpets and saxophone. Katherine took the lead, for which he was grateful. He searched for Shay and Joel over her head.
There was a blinding camera flash and a sudden crack, and everyone on the dance floor jumped in surprise.
His first thought was that the stage was breaking, the full weight of the fifteen-piece band more than it could take.
But then there was another flash of white light—lightning, he realized—followed by a gust of cold air, and he could smell it: rain.
The band kept playing, but he could hear the rain’s pummel even over the drums. Everyone laughed at the surprise of it.
The day had been so beautiful, and in the night’s new darkness, no one had seen the storm gathering.
But then the wind whipped harder, and the tent began to buckle at its edges.
Older guests seated on the outskirts stood up, fearful of getting soaked, and he no longer felt like a guest at a party, but a cow being corralled into a pen.
“Just a little rain,” Mr. Pruitt said over the commotion. Some of the guests were still dancing half-heartedly, but most had stopped. Katherine had let go of William’s hands.
Lightning singed the sky, followed by thunder so loud and deep that he felt it in his stomach. A child began to wail. The energy of the party was teetering into unease, with crackles of drunken delight, crackles of panic. The band had stopped playing. He still could not see Shay or Joel.
“All right, everyone,” the bandleader boomed. “We’re going to temporarily relocate to the house. Just a momentary pause. The party’s just begun!” Behind him, the musicians were frantically wrapping up cords and clicking their instruments into their cases. The drummer looked helplessly at his kit.
Everyone moved to the northern edge of the tent closest to the house.
The younger guests had begun to sprint across the grass, men gallantly offering their jackets to the women, so they could protect their perfectly coiffed heads as they ran.
Waiters attempted to assist the older relatives, though there was little they could do to prevent them from getting drenched.
Parents gathered children into their arms, pressing their faces into their shoulders.
As he got closer, William could see the rain was torrential, the water so steady that he almost couldn’t see it as rain, only that the air had a different texture.
The house’s windows glowed faintly in the distance, a latticed lighthouse.
Katherine was still at his side. He gave her his jacket, and she lifted it over her head.
“Ready?” she said.
He nodded, and they began to run.