“This is going to be a very long night.” Turning from the table, Rose starts a beeline for the bar.
“Hey, wait for me,” I call after her, waddling a bit slower these days.
“What kind of white wine do you have?” Rose sounds desperate as she asks the bartender.
“Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, and a Sauvignon Blanc.”
“I’ll take a glass of the Pinot. What are you drinking, Des?”
“Cranberry juice. Here, why don’t you take my drink tickets.”
Snatching them from me, she barks, “Good, because I’m going to need them.”
As we turn from the bar, there he is, regaling a group of hangers on, the tech king and his insignificant other.
“Oh, Jesus,” I lament.
“Let’s get this over with,” my wing-woman suggests. “Then you can enjoy the rest of your night.”
He sees us as we near, like he can smell my pregnancy hormones or something, but the moment my eyes meet his, my nerves are gone. This boy knew me better than anyone, besides Rose, that is, and the memories of what we shared are perfect. For memories.
“Look at you.” He stops talking to his admirers and begins to approach me. “You look… radiant.” He pulls me in for an embrace, both familiar and strange. As we part, his hand goes right to my swollen belly, that thing people think is totally fine to do to pregnant women, and it is anything but fine.
Swatting his hand away, I snarl at him, “Don’t corrupt my child.”
“I corrupted his mama.” His smile is knowing, and in this moment, all I feel for him is love. None of the crap that broke us up matters any longer. It dissipated the moment his smile reached his eyes. And with a clarity I can only imagine is fueled by my raging hormones, I realize something that has eluded me until this very moment, he is not history. He is my history, an inextricable ingredient in the formulation of my life, a life that I will now share with this child.
“She was born corrupted.” I know Rose’s eyes are rolling without even looking at her.
“Rosalita,” he addresses Rose with a nickname he gave her in ninth grade, giving her a hug.
“You remember my wife, Amber.” Two-Tits is now clinging to him.
“You’ve gained…” she responds and all I can think is, she really can’t be this stupid and rude, can she?
“It’s called approaching your third trimester,” Rose corrects her. Wing-woman on the move!
“Oh you’re…”
“Positively radiant.” He husband completes her sentence, reaffirming his initial comment. “Is your husband here?”
“He hates these things.” I shrug.
“He’s a fool to let you out of his sight.” His eye contact is beyond intense. What the hell, Josh?
“Sometimes men are foolish.” Yeah, I’m looking at you, mister.
He laughs. “Yeah, we think with our dicks. And…” He doesn’t complete his thought.
“Regret it later,” Wing-woman says in little more than a whisper, but we’ve all clearly heard her.
There’s nothing finer in life than a best friend, except maybe a group of hangers on who show up when you need them most.
“Josh, so glad you could make it. I totally love your new mobile money app.” I hear someone say, but he doesn’t look at their faces because his gaze is still steadfastly holding mine.
There’s a sense of validation and calm that’s come with this exchange and I know all our interactions forever more will be filled with laughs and warm feelings when we conjure the memories only we two share.
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