Joy Moore Nine Years Ago
Joy Moore
EXCERPT FROM UNTITLED JOINT MEMOIR WITH BENNY ABBOTT
Nine Years Ago
“Why do you think your mom gave up custody?” I asked one morning, a year after Xander and I had moved in together.
He was manually juicing oranges; he finished twisting the cut half on the reamer before responding, “Where’d that come from?”
I shrugged. “I guess I was thinking I don’t know much about her.
” Not that I knew much about anyone in his family.
Niels, his father, was a distant man from whom Xander inherited his obsession with luxury cars.
If they were ever close, that ship had sailed, figuratively and literally.
Niels had retired to Miami to hobnob with yachties and saw his children rarely, if ever.
I hadn’t met him yet. Mallory was equally perplexing, though less distant.
She called Xander every few weeks, but there was an air of formality to their conversations, a low-key intensity I couldn’t yet read.
“Well, that makes two of us,” he said.
I wanted more. Did he have any fond memories?
Bad memories? Did his attached earlobes come from her?
What about his voice? Did she speak English?
What did she do for a living? Did he miss her when he was a kid?
Did he miss her now? Did it anger him that she was alive and well and completely absent from his life?
Did Xander and Mallory ever talk about this stuff?
Why did he not want to talk about it now? Why did we never, ever talk about it?
I asked none of these questions. Instead, I stepped forward, took the orange rind from his hand, and pressed myself into him. “She has no idea what she’s missing.” His dad too though I kept this to myself. It was bad enough that one parent had abandoned him. We could pretend the other still cared.
He angled back and lifted my chin. “I don’t need anyone who doesn’t need me.”
I kissed his palm. “I need you.”
That smile. “But you can take care of yourself, thank you very much.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”
He held me tighter. “Say it again.”
I grinned. “I need you.”
He made a guttural noise and lifted me into his arms like I weighed ten pounds. “Again.”
“I need you.” I laughed.
“Again!”
“I need you! I need you I need you I need you!”
He carried me into the bedroom and threw me onto the bed. Buzzing all over, I tore off my clothes and waited for him to join me.
“Aren’t you coming?” I scanned his face. “What’s the matter?”
It took him a moment to respond, and in that moment, I imagined all manner of terrible outcomes.
He was going to scold me for bringing up his heartless mother.
He was going to break up with me. He was going to thank me for sharing the rent these past few months, but actually, he prefers sleeping alone on his plush pillow-top bed.
“I love you,” he said. His eyes were full.
We’d exchanged I love yous a hundred times, but something had changed. This was different. “I love you too. Now come here.”
I reached for him. Still, he held back.
“Marry me,” he said.
WE PICKED A date for nine months later. With my parents’ help, we chose a venue in Topanga Canyon—quaint but pricey, featuring a floating “tree house” deck surrounded by oaks. There would be twinkle lights everywhere, dancing to a live band, and food and drinks for days.
Before the ceremony, Benny visited my bridal suite.
“Oh, Benny,” my mom said, pulling him into a hug. She held him at arm’s length, gave him a full once-over, and said, “Don’t you look handsome in a suit.”
“This old thing?” Benny did a twirl.
He was very handsome. My mom was equally lovely in her pink sheath dress, and he made sure she knew it. She waved off his compliments with a flush, and then abruptly left the room under the pretense of getting more water, though we already had plenty.
Benny and I were alone.
“You’re stunning,” he said quietly.
“Thank you.” My hair was down, veil-less, over a backless ivory gown (simple and easy in case I needed to lie down for a quick nap, which I did a few hours in), and I was wearing my grandma’s blue topaz drop earrings.
I felt like the fantasy version of myself.
I also felt cold. Los Angeles hadn’t yet shaken its June gloom.
Rubbing my goose-bumpy arms, I said, “Is everyone ready?”
“Guests are still arriving.”
“Then we have time to share this.” I grabbed the bottle of champagne from the vanity, took a careful swallow so as to not mess up my lipstick, and handed it over.
He coughed from the bubbles, then ran a hand through his hair; his curls were tamer than usual, recently cut. “So,” he said. “Are you ready for this?”
I reached out to adjust his silky pocket handkerchief. “I think so.”
“Think?”
“I’m just nervous.”
His face was oddly difficult to read. Tapping the side of his head, I asked, “What’s going on in there?”
Eventually he said, “Let’s say you’re stuck in a loop, reliving the same day over and over. Like Groundhog Day, only you get to decide which day you’re reliving. Which day would you choose? And how do you stop the loop?”
“A two-parter,” I said, unsure if this was Benny changing the subject or getting to it in a roundabout way. “Is this you telling me you’re stuck in a loop? Are you reliving today over and over?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Not yet.”
“What if you were?” I tugged at his tie. “Would you try to stop my wedding?”
I said it like a joke, but in truth, I wanted his answer. Was I doing the right thing? I’d spent nine months focusing on flowers and songs and linens and paper stock, but a wedding was bigger than the sum of its parts. Was I ready for forever? The closer the day came, the less certain I was.
He didn’t answer my what-if. “This is your theoretical scenario, not mine.”
I took a deep breath and said, “I guess I would pick a day I regret. That way I could change things for the better and stop the loop.”
“Any day in particular?”
“I have a few in mind,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “Same.”
I stared into his watery green eyes, and as the seconds passed my heart began to race.
In ten minutes I was supposed to walk down the aisle, where Benny would officiate, saying words that bound me to Xander till death do us part.
A string quartet was playing music for our guests as they took their seats.
Xander was probably already accepting congratulations.
And here I was, wearing my ivory dress, holding Benny’s tie, waiting for him to utter aloud what his eyes were already saying.
“Are you trying to tell me you object to this marriage?” I whispered.
“You’re my best friend,” he whispered back. “I just want to make sure you’re happy.”
His best friend. The words hit me with the jolt I needed. I pasted on a smile, pressed a hand to his cheek, and feigned my most confident voice. “I’m good, Benny.”
He bit his lip and brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Then let’s get you married.”