Tiffany held up her left hand, wiggling a bare ring finger. “There are still some minor details to work out,” she said, her tone light and airy for the first time all night, “but we really feel it’s the right next step for us.”
My mom walked over to us, her party dress flouncing around her. “What’s going on over here?” she asked cheerily. “Why do you all look so glum?”
“Tiffany’s just made an . . . announcement,” Dad said.
A fly buzzed around the opening of my dad’s beer can. It landed on his knuckle. He shooed it, so it tried the aluminum tab, then his shirt cuff, then my uncle’s beer before disappearing for a few seconds and starting all over.
Mom took Dad’s elbow, and he shifted his beer to his other hand. “What’s your news, honey?” she asked.
“Mr. Kaplan,” Manning said. “I’d planned to talk to you first—”
I flinched. I’d planned to talk to you first. He wasn’t denying it. The idiot fly wouldn’t quit. It just kept trying to get in the can.
The nightmarish haze of the moment began to lift. He wasn’t denying it, because it was true. Manning actually planned to marry my sister, to become a permanent part of my family, and not in the way I’d often dreamed about.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked, her party-smile wavering.
Tiffany looked delighted to have the attention back on her. “Manning and I are engaged to be engaged.”
My mom covered her mouth with both hands. “No. Are you serious? You know, I had a feeling. I can’t describe it, but the other day, I was reorganizing some photos and I came across the trip to Napa Valley where your father proposed . . .”
My insides flipped as my mom’s words began to run together. I was going to spew Mexican food right here, all over the lawn. I looked at my stupid new heels, which I’d bought to make my legs look good, because I’d wanted Manning to notice. The blades of grass under my feet seemed to come alive, squirming like worms, and the fly was back, doing a figure eight around my ankles.
I closed my eyes. One of the things I loved about our backyard was that if you listened hard enough, you could faintly hear the ocean. Waves crashed that hard, their impact echoing as far as this. I could almost feel the ground vibrate with the collision of water and sand, but I couldn’t hear anything except the wah-wah of voices, the squeal and splash of my cousins in the pool, my mother’s happiness. Not being able to hear the water made the world feel small, narrowed down to this moment and my inability to breathe. All the while, Manning’s eyes were on me—that much I knew, without even looking. It was just the two of us.
How could you do this to me?
I didn’t even know what this was.
How could you let me find out like this?
How could you have spent the past ten minutes in the kitchen without telling me?
How could you marry her?
How could you marry her?
I couldn’t get a breath, my throat now swollen shut. I was an idiot. Either my heels were sinking into the grass, or the ground was giving out. I had to open my eyes to center myself as my balance wavered. My eyes connected with Manning’s. They were the cruelest color of brown, even when filled with what looked like regret.
Val, Vickie, Mona and I had gotten our hair and makeup done for today, yet I’d never felt more like a child in an adult’s world. Tiffany was saying things like sweetheart neckline and cushion cut and something blue and Manning wasn’t stopping her. He just shook my uncle’s hand and looked at me. Touched Tiffany’s back and looked at me.
A gnat zoomed around my face and I slapped my hands together, smashing its guts on my palms. Somebody had to stop this.
My dad.
With that realization, the ton of bricks on my chest lifted. My dad would never let this happen. I turned to see why he’d barely spoken.
His eyes were narrowed on Manning, watching his every move. Each time Manning looked at me, my dad saw. His gaze followed Manning’s to me and then went right back. Their back-and-forth made me dizzy. The circle around us had somehow grown and also tightened, congratulations flowing. I listed to the side as the dirt gave under my feet.
Manning crossed the circle in one step and caught my arm. “You need air.”
“Manning.”
With that one terse word from my dad, everyone went quiet. Dad’s neck had reddened under his collar as he stared at us. I suddenly felt as if I was the one who’d made the announcement. As if I was about to endure his wrath, the weight of his disappointment. Manning’s hand on my elbow warmed me, bracing me for the explosion about to hit.