These Are the Moments (5 page)

Chapter 12

Then

He had a girlfriend now. Wendy wasn’t stunned by this. They’d all seen it coming for a while even if he never said it out loud. She could tell by the way he’d have “plans” on Friday nights, the way Owen would wink and air-quote “plans” in reply.

Erica Cedar was the girl in the corner from Simon’s birthday, and they’d met at a football game. He talked about her to Wendy, but only occasionally, and to Wendy’s surprise, this new relationship had no impact on theirs. Wendy and Simon still talked all the time. They still hung out at youth group, since Erica never went. And eventually, he started mentioning her, but never in a good way.

“Erica’s fighting with me again,” he’d say.

“What now?”

It wasn’t Wendy’s favorite topic of discussion. But they were friends. Friends talked about this kind of thing.

“She says I’m spending too much time with y’all. I ditched our last date to go to the movies. I guess that wasn’t the smartest move.”

He never brought Erica around. It was like there were two Simons. Hers and theirs. “You were with your friends. She can’t be jealous of that.”

“Yeah, I know. I just have to pick my battles, I guess.”

With Christmas coming up, Wendy had decided to throw a party, per Mom and Dad’s suggestion.

“You should invite your friends over,” Mom said. “For a Christmas party. We’ll light a bonfire.”

“I’ll cook,” Dad said.

“We can invite the neighbors,” Mom added.

Soon, it wasn’t
her
party with a few friends. It was a full-out Christmas extravaganza where her friends were “welcome to join.” Mom and Dad loved Christmas. They loved hosting parties. This was the perfect excuse.

So, Wendy invited everybody.

“Should I bring anything?” Reese asked.

“Saturday? Deal,” Owen said.

“Is it worth my time?” Simon said, joking, kidding, maybe.

Three weeks before Christmas, the day of the party, Wendy hopped on AIM between vacuuming the house and cleaning the guest bathroom.

Simon messaged first.

SGuidry4: Hey.

WMLake3: Hey! Ready for tonight?

She was excited. Simon would be at her house. She liked the idea of that.

SGuidry4: About that.

She considered signing off.

WMLake3: You’re still coming… right?

SGuidry4: Well, I talked to Erica.

Of course.

SGuidry4: She fought with me all night about it. And I kind of told her that she could come with me.

WMLake3: You invited your girlfriend to my party?

It wasn’t the craziest idea in the world. Except that a month into dating, she suddenly wanted to come around. Simon had made a clear divider. Friends on one side, girlfriend on the other. This was screwing everything up.

SGuidry4: I know. I’m really sorry. Trust me, it’s not my first choice. I just don’t know what to do. Other than not coming at all.

WMLake3: Yeah. I get it.

SGuidry4: Are you mad at me? Should I just not come?

She didn’t know which was worse. On the one hand, she hated the idea of seeing him with needy, clingy Erica. On the other hand, she’d built this night up in her head. All of them around the bonfire. Talking. Drinking their non-alcoholic egg nog.

WMLake3: I’m not mad. I get it. I really do.

Mom yelled from downstairs, “Wendy, the bathroom!”

WMLake3: I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight. Or not.

As she scrubbed the toilet, she felt guilty. She’d been caught off-guard, but she didn’t mean to be rude. He was in a predicament. He’d needed his friend to give him some kind of objective guidance.

But that was the thing.

She wasn’t objective. Not even a little.

“I’m wearing a green scarf,” Reese texted. “You can’t talk me out of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she texted back.

None of her friends knew that she had a crush on Simon. That’s what it was. Just a crush. And yes, she’d told herself
never
to feel that way about him, and yes, she’d promised herself. But Simon was different. He was arrogant, but not in the ways that mattered. He was deep and sensitive and he cared about her. He listened.

“Getting excited?” Mom poked her head into Wendy’s room. Wendy smashed powder on her face.

“Yeah, I am,” she said.

Mom took a seat on the bed, her mouth lined in red lipstick. “Your friends all coming?”

“Yeah, I think so. Most of them.”

“Simon?”

Mom knew Wendy liked him. She’d met him a few times, and given him her unprecedented stamp of approval. And even though Wendy never admitted it out loud, Mom always knew.

“Yeah, maybe. He might bring Erica. Or he might not come at all.”

Mom frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“What doesn’t?” Wendy said from inside of her closet, pulling a red sweater over her head.

“You two are close. If I were Erica, I’d want to see my competition too.”

“I’m not competition,” Wendy said.

“Sure you’re not,” Mom said, winking, and leaving the room cryptically. It was a
let me leave you alone to think
power play. Mom. She was good.

Reese showed up first, clad in her green scarf, with her mom. Reese’s mom, Rita, was a hippie, just like she’d said. Rita wore gaucho pants and her hair was long and tangled. She grew her own herb garden and drank spring water when available.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, hugging Wendy. “I’m gonna go help your mom.”

“So I heard,” Reese said the second Rita walked away.

“About?”

“About Erica, of course. Owen told me everything. Apparently, there was this massive blow-up about how Simon never invites her anywhere. A whole lot of drama. Do you know if she’s coming?”

“No, and I honestly don’t want to think about it.”

“Understood. Wanna go outside?”

The kids from youth group gradually started showing up, and Dad pointed them in the direction of the bonfire. Wendy didn’t think about Simon. That much.

Christmas music filtered through the speakers. Mom brought out a tray of hot chocolate for everyone, and they all drank from mitten-covered fingers. It was the first time Wendy had had a real party, and it seemed like it was going well. People were laughing. People were talking. Those were good signs.

But.

An hour into the party, Owen and Simon were still missing. Wendy checked her phone. No texts.

Half the kids had gone inside for a gingerbread house-making competition. Wendy and Reese stayed outside, full of hot chocolate, avoiding the wall of smoke.

Headlights pulled into the driveway.

“You think?” Reese asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Car doors shut. It was too dark to see anything. Should she go inside and check? No. She didn’t want to be obvious. Was Erica with them? She’d know soon enough. If she was here, Wendy would stop talking to Simon so much. This wasn’t good for her. She was going to get hurt.

The back door opened.

Owen stepped outside.

Simon followed.

The door shut.

“Well, well, well,” Reese said, elbowing Wendy. She yelled at the boys, “Look who finally showed up!”

Wendy stood up, her legs shaky beneath her. He was here. Alone. That meant something. That meant everything.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, bringing her into a hug. He smelled amazing, like always.

She melted. “Merry Christmas.”

“Didn’t have too much fun without me, did you?”

She pulled away. “Only a little.”

And she realized.

It wasn’t a crush.

Crushes were for little girls with pigtails and braces. Wendy liked Simon beyond that. She heart-stopping, breath-catching liked him.

“So how did you…” she started.

“I told her I didn’t want her to come. She’ll get over it.”

Ribs tightened. Stomach dropped.

Definitely more than a crush.

Chapter 13

Now

“
Two vodka tonics, please.”

Reese shouldered her way into a spot at the bar, her money shoved into the bartender’s vision. Her lipstick was as red as the bright spout of hair on her head, her third hair color this month, and she had a pout on her face. It was as if she were saying:
I don’t give a fuck, but you should.

Wendy liked going out. She liked getting dressed up, slapping makeup on her face and being around people who still woke up with hangovers every Sunday. But it was strange now. Being in a college town without actually being in college felt like she was trying to fit into her old high school uniform. It fit, but just a bit too snug.

“Where’s Ben tonight?”

“Dunno,” Reese shrugged. “Haven’t talked to him in a few days.”

“A few
days?
”

“Yeah, you know us.”

Reese got their drinks and pushed her way to a spot by the wall. She handed Wendy hers and said, “So maid of honor, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised, but you know, I kind of have to hate you now.”

Wendy laughed. “Want it? Take it.”

“Okay, Vivian’s not here. You can drop the
I’m totally cool with this, see, I’m smiling
act. Simon. Let’s talk about Simon.”

Wendy liked the noise of a bar. The girls yelling over each other. The thump of the music. The sound of glass crashing to the floor. It was the perfect place to have a serious conversation that you never wanted to have in the first place.

“What am I going to say?” Wendy asked, “That this sucks?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, this sucks.”

“Go on.”

“It sucks so bad that
already
I can’t sleep. I sit there, not sleeping, thinking about seeing him, thinking about how he’s going to act.”

“Like an asshole if memory serves correctly.”

“Exactly. And this whole maid of honor/best man bit. It almost feels— ”

“Planned? Oh hell yeah it is. You know Viv. She’s all,
I’m happy, let me spread some sunshine into your bleeding wounds
.”

“She is not like that.”

“Not intentionally, but yes she is.”

Vivian wasn’t a selfish person, but there were times Wendy wondered if she was thinking about anybody else in that blonde head of hers. So, in a way, yes. She was a little selfish.

“So, Simon. We need a plan.”

“A plan?” Wendy sipped through the tiny red and white straw.

“Yes, a Simon-proof prevention strategy. He doesn’t get to waltz back in and use his Simon-ness on you.”

“He won’t.”

Reese gave her a knowing look.

“Okay,” Wendy said. “What’ve you got?”

“You need a date.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a great plan.”

“It’s the best plan. You should start dating. Right now. Tonight. By wedding time you could be in a semi-stable relationship. It’s the best
eff you
that you could give him.”

“I don’t want to play his games, Reese. I don’t want to do the back-and-forth,
let’s see who can screw each other up more
medley. I just want to survive this wedding, unscathed.”

“You are anything but unscathed.”

Wendy used to imagine all of her Simon wounds like actual wounds cut into her skin. The deep-seated wounds that left a milky white pattern of scars on her body. But Simon didn’t work that way. When he hurt, he cut deep enough for only her to see.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

How many times had she said that before? How many times had it actually meant anything?

“I don’t know how to date,” Wendy said, then raising her hand cautiously. “Not that I’m considering this.”

“You dated in college.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that dating.”

Reese scanned the room. The crowd was a mixed bag of college to middle-aged, and there were clusters of people leaning in close, spilling their drinks and trying to dance. Not thirty seconds later, Reese found her target.

“Go talk to that guy,” she said.

At the bar, a guy with just enough beard stared into space, waiting to order. He dressed like her type, button-down and jeans.

“Just . . . go talk to him?” Wendy asked.

She wasn’t the type to just
go talk to him
. She liked to wait for them to make the first move, which in truth, was probably why she was still waiting.

“Yes,” Reese said, giving her a nice shove.

Wendy walked, shoulders back, drink forward. She could do this. She could talk to guys. Guys were easy: sex, sports and money. That was all there was to them.

She positioned herself next to him. Deep breath. She went to say something, maybe
hello
or
hi
or a variation of that, when the girl beside her, too drunk to function, toppled into her. Wendy faltered, and slightly crashed into him.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.
Great.

He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said. “Can’t say the same for my new friend over there.”

The girl was on the floor now, her skirt riding way up her thigh, as the bouncer made his way over.

“Amateur,” he said. “What are you drinking? It’s the least I can do for your trauma.”

I’m in
. “Vodka tonic.”

He ordered her one, along with a beer for himself. “Caleb,” he said.

“Wendy,” she yelled.

“You go to LSU?”

She laughed. “Used to. How about you?”

“Same. And still. I’m in law school.”

Wendy made eye contact with Reese, who was thumbs-upping her from across the room.

“What kind of law?” Wendy asked.

“I’m not positive yet,” he said, paying for her drink and handing it to her. “Criminal, most likely. Environmental, if I’m feeling brave.”

He had a good jaw. It was the kind of jaw that made her think about quitting her job and letting him provide for her. It was a dangerous, incredibly attractive facial feature.

“An environmentalist? I wouldn’t have pinned you for one of those.”

“Pinned me, huh?”

They both laughed. His was rough and hollow, like something scraped out of wood. She fake laughed, thinking,
what a line.

“Okay,” he said, straightening his back, making him an inch taller, “I better stop flirting before my wife gets mad.”

Wendy laughed. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

His face went cold. “No, I really wouldn’t.”

That’s when she realized . . .
he wasn’t joking
. Before his wife gets mad. She choked on her drink, held up her hand and mumbled, “Excuse me.”

She was still choking when she reached Reese.

“So,” Reese said, eyes bright and expectant. “Picking baby names yet?”

“Oh, I’m sure he is.
With his wife.
”

Reese blinked. “I did not see that one coming.”

“Is this a thing we have to worry about now? Am I supposed to start checking for rings?”

“I’d say that’s a fairly good practice. But wow. Really, wow.”

Wendy hadn’t thought about people getting married. First Vivian, and now everyone else. It was finally happening. You couldn’t just talk to someone anymore. You had to check for wedding rings and smell for baby formula. You had to ask probing questions, like, “Who are you here with?”

“You know what’s even scarier?” Reese pointed out. “When they
aren’t
wearing rings. Guys do that, you know.”

“So you’re saying I’m only a few drinks away from becoming a mistress?”

“If the dirty slut fits.”

Wendy took a big swig of her drink. “And this is why I don’t date.”

As she stared into her cup, she had a random thought:
Simon would find this hilarious
.