Julie and Dan Tomzir are adorable. I love the way they hold each other like a vice grip holds metal: strong and steady. They sway slowly as they dance, gripping each other like they’ll die if separated.
The lights are dimmed and the mood is soft and romantic like a wedding should be. The crowd is singing to them, cheering them on, and tears well up in my eyes. This is an amazing love.
The photographer captures this perfect moment, and I don’t even have to see the pictures in the viewfinder to know they are special.
A few more songs play and the crowd revs up with the music. Several of the bridesmaids try to pull me in, but I’m not feeling it. I smile in response, trying desperately not to dampen their good mood, but I can’t participate. My last dance was Frank and I want to preserve that moment for a little while longer.
The music begins to slow and the crowd thins, offering everyone a rest before we move to the cake cutting. The photographer approaches me to double-check the timing of the rest of the evening, and when he moves away, I see Frank standing on the opposite edge of the dance floor.
Our eyes lock and he gives me a half-smile like he’s just as surprised to be standing here himself, but he doesn’t move towards me. Does he want me? Every time I extend myself to him, she invades his thoughts, and he leaves me cold and hurt. I can’t win against a memory that has a tight-fisted grip on him. He has to shake her off and come to me.
He still hasn’t moved, and that tells me all I need to know. Why did he come here then?
I’m a fool, and she’s still locked in his heart.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow knowing he doesn’t want me as much as he wants her back. The only thing I have going for me is physicality. I’m actually here and she isn’t.
I remind him of her somehow and that’s what he wants. He’ll take any piece of her he can get, even if it means destroying me to have it. I can’t pretend for the rest of our lives that it’s me he wants, taking whatever I can of him. It’s not fair to either of us or to her memory.
The tears that welled up in my eyes earlier are about to overflow their dam. The sting of them burns my eyes and the heat of my overwhelming emotions makes me feel faint. I won’t let him see me cry. All I can think to do is run.
The crowd presses in as the song comes to an end, and I can’t get through the wall of people. I start shoving bodies, pushing on shoulders to move everyone out of way. I’m suddenly frantic to escape the room we’re in. I’ve never felt claustrophobia until now. I break through the final person, and gasp one massive breath of fresh air, clutching my chest and panting deeply as I stand between two pillars in the foyer.
Melissa runs past me, calling my name, and I respond, “I’m here,” breathing heavily. She walks toward my voice. I can’t see her at first, only hearing the clicking of her heels, but when she comes into view, she’s shaking her head in disappointment.
“I just watched that play out like a bad Hallmark Channel movie,” she reprimands me. “Are you really going to let him get away?”
“Him, who?” I ask, looking down at my shoes. I can’t face her knowing she’s judging me, but when she snorts under the breath, my face raises to hers in disbelief.
“Him, who,” she repeats my words. “Are you really going to pull that shit with me? We’ve done countless weddings together and you’ve never run through a crowd like the building was on fire. I was standing behind him and saw the whole scene play out. He’s devastated right now. He slumped down in a chair like his world just ended.”
“He doesn’t want ME. He wants the memory of her, and I fulfill that need,” I explain.
“Since when did you become a defeatist?” I ask. “I never expected the gumption of Isabella Asante to sour on a hard challenge. I’m disappointed in you.” I’m silent, feeling the sting of her words. She walks away from me, and I can’t let her go. She’s right, I stopped fighting when he called me by her name. Running to catch up to her, I pull her arm to make her stop.
“He doesn’t want me,” I cry. My tears soak into my silk blouse.
“He came for you, didn’t he?” she roars at me, throwing her arms in the air in exasperation.
I have no more words. She’s right; he did come for me, and that’s what I wanted. A small smile turns my lips upward when I realize I got what I wanted. Then why am I scared to death? The knots in my stomach are pulling tighter and tighter with every step we take towards the front door.
I sniffle my nose and wipe my wet tears on the back of my hands. I hate that tears always cause a snotty nose. I’m sure I’m a visual mess, but I don’t care. I reach for a tissue from the box at the entrance and blow my nose. Melissa walks me to the front closet, opening it to reveal a long mirror hanging within. The music drifts down the entrance staircase, reminding me to pull myself together before a guest, or even worse, the bride and groom, see me.
Melissa helps tuck my hair back into its bun, as I finish removing black smudges of eyeliner and mascara from my cheeks and underneath my eyes. I really need to start wearing waterproof at these events.
Within a few moments, I am presentable again. I pinch my cheeks to bring back some color to them. “There, beautiful again,” she whispers from behind me in my ear. I look up into the mirror and see her smiling behind me. “Go find him. Light that man up with the fire inside you. Scorch him if you have too, but don’t let him get away. I’ll take care of things here.” She hugs me before closing the closet door and walking away.
I don’t think he left already— he would have gone past me and I haven’t seen him. As I stand there contemplating looking outside for him or walking back into the main banking hall, I hear keys jangling and footsteps pounding down the marble staircase at a fast pace.
The room directory is blocking my view of the staircase and I can’t see who is coming. I step out from behind it but don’t see anyone. The footsteps have stopped and the keys are quiet.
I stand at the front entrance wondering what to do. If he’s still here, I’ll run into him leaving, but if he’s outside, I might have already missed him. How would he have gotten here since he doesn’t own a car?
I push the doors open and step out into the warm summer night. The smell of salt and fish assault my senses on a quick bay breeze blowing in from the embarcadero. I don’t see any sign of him. I walk down the few short steps of the front entrance and see a flower delivery van that says Moore Flowers, Knightsen, CA on it. What has he done? But at least I know he hasn’t left. I still have a chance.
I turn and power sprint up the steps to the heavy front door. I pull on it at the same time someone pushes and the door isn’t so heavy anymore. I stumble right into Frank’s arms. I know it’s him without looking because I feel at home in his arms.