Her demeanor softens at the sentiment. “Thank you so much.”
Wow. I glance at Zack from the corner of my eye. He’s really making an effort to be polite. My mother hasn’t been this pleasant to him the entire time she’s known him. As they move on to mingle with the other guests, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic. Maybe this won’t be the disaster I feared.
Every year, Jamie and I are seated with my parents at the front table so I already know where to go. We weave our way between the tables toward the front and I stop every so often to say hello to people I recognize. I’m careful to introduce Zack but not to linger too long. I don’t want to use up his quota of social interaction so early in the night.
My grandparents are also seated at our table so I introduce them to Zack before sitting down. There’s already champagne on the table and I take a healthy sip, hoping it will calm my nerves. The napkin on Jamie’s seat is unfolded and I recognize Isabelle’s wrap on the back of the chair next to me so I know they’re here somewhere.
“Geez, you weren’t kidding about this being boring.”
When I look over at Zack in horror, he grins. “I’m kidding. Take a breath, sweetheart. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
I’m relieved that he seems to be so calm. A few people are staring, mainly friends of Perry’s, but otherwise it’s not so bad. The servers come around with salads and I ask for oil and vinegar.
“Thank you,” Zack says when the server leaves.
“For what?”
“Asking for the oil and vinegar. Even though he should know my diet better than anyone, even Gabe forgets sometimes.”
“Of course. To be honest, the way you eat has always inspired me to be healthier. I would have never known how much hidden sugar is in everything if I hadn’t had a reason to think about it.”
“Still, thank you. It’s tiring sometimes to always be the person asking for something different.”
After about ten minutes, Jamie and Isabelle appear with my parents right behind them. Jamie pulls out the chair next to me so Izzie can sit down. My father is on his other side. He gives me a look that makes me giggle. He’s in for a night of hearing our father drone on about whatever case he’s currently working on.
The oil and vinegar arrives then and we make meaningless conversation while we munch on our salads.
When the servers start bringing out the main course, it occurs to me that I ordered beef for Perry when I originally responded to the invitation. Then I immediately feel guilty for not remembering this earlier. Zack rarely eats red meat. Managing his diabetes is a delicate balance. Whenever we go out to eat, Zack usually goes to the bathroom after we order to give himself however much insulin he’ll need for dinner. He usually sticks to chicken, fish and vegetables mainly.
I lean over to Zack and whisper, “You can have my chicken plate. The side is some kind of vegetable medley. I can find out what it is.”
“That’s fine. It’s not a problem.”
After I direct the server to give Zack my chicken plate, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He comes back five minutes later. He winks as he sits down. The steak is succulent and juicy and I’m soon too busy eating to worry anymore. Izzie leans over whispering the tidbits she’s overhearing from the table behind her and Zack is having a spirited conversation with my Nana Harlow.
My father’s mother is a bit irreverent anyway and the twinkle in her eye tells me she’s enjoying having such an attentive neighbor. Although they seem to be having a pleasant conversation, Zack’s smile is a little strained and he keeps tugging at his bowtie. I figure this has to be killing him.
After our plates are taken away, the dance floor starts to fill. Jamie stands and holds out a hand to a surprised Isabelle. She glances at me and then takes it. I turn to Zack.
“Do you want to dance?”
He looks relieved and we follow Izzie and Jamie to the dance floor. We find room amidst the swaying couples and he seems to relax for the first time since we’ve arrived.
“Is that better?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seemed really tense back there. I thought maybe getting away from the table would help.”
“I’m not tense. I’m fine.”
But I can tell he’s lying. He can hide his emotions from everyone else but not from me. Not anymore.
“What’s really wrong, Zack? Do you want to leave? We can. We’ve been here long enough.”
He immediately looks chagrined. “Nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I don’t want to ruin this for you. I’m just not used to this kind of thing. And I’m trying not to step on your feet.”
I pull him closer. “You don’t seem to have any problem moving your body, Zack. In any way.”