They didn’t question who should lead when they danced. That was the best of them, their sheer equality, their balance, their joy in putting their other first. We waved maple leaf flags and ate potluck with such joy that the cicadas could not sing loud enough to properly celebrate.
This was the wedding of my dreams: Two people truly in love. Two people truly committed. What did it matter that they were among the most fabulous women I’ve ever known?
Leaves caught under the wheels of my suitcase, a chilly wind blew down this western version of Broadway, and darkness descended so quickly in the evenings it was a daily surprise.
Even California, it seems, has four seasons.
One can only perceive things: the tone in the voicemail, the abruptness of the text message, the “sweetie” in the email. Certainly, none of it was meant the way it sounded, or so she wanted to think, because she liked to see the good in people. But it all tasted bad when she chewed on it, like bread that has gone moldy at its core.
Down in front, a man in skinny jeans slugged wine straight from a bottle. A three-legged dog snapped at the air. The bands played, lights fading, then returning, tricolored shadows staining the wall. I want, I want, I want, I thought, as I watched the guitar-player sing. It was too early to go home—the show was not over. It was too late for a school night. It was crazy amidst all those white walls.
“Uh oh,” he said. “You’re a writer?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I lied. “I’m not going to write about you.”
I can’t help it. I still look you up from time to time, grasp at the odd link, the rare audio clip, the strange rabbit hole that appears and sucks me in when I ponder that road that carried us away from each other.
I don’t miss you. I’m not sad about it. I think we’re better off. But I get curious, without real reason, and wonder what has happened since.
We were so young. We made such bad decisions with such earnestness, such dedication.
“Never wish for things to happen too soon,” he told me once. “The anticipation is the best part. Things are never as good as you expect them to be.”
At the time I thought he was crazy. But now I’m as old as he was when he said it to me.
Now I understand exactly what he meant.
100 Proof 