Scarred (Part 3)

The reception makes me uncomfortable. More so than the wedding, which is a focused ceremony—eyes front—this is a social gathering and celebration. I feel awkward being here by myself. If it were anyone else getting married, I would have brought Laura along with me. Today, though, she’s a little busy, and finding another date never even occurred to me. I guess I’m not entirely by myself. I’m sitting at a table with some friends of the groom’s parents. We made small talk, but for the most part they’ve focused on the bar—open, and busy—and forgetting Laura’s name. Who made these table assignments? Finally the bride and groom make their entrance, and dinner is served. I’m still not enjoying myself, but at least I have food to distract me. I only look up once during the meal, and it happens that Laura is looking at me when I do. She smiles at me again, and I find that smiling is still the last thing on my mind. After dinner, I’m staring off into space when someone taps me on the shoulder. It’s Laura. She asks if I’m okay, I look a little flushed. I say I’m fine, then stand and embrace her, telling her she’s beautiful. My stomach flutters, but I see no need to tell her that. She blushes and thanks me—she can’t talk long, not right now, but I’m going to dance with her later, right? I’m not much of a dancer, but I’d like to. She smiles and says she’ll see me then, and she’s off. I’m sweating again, hot in my cheeks, ears, neck. Needing a drink, something with ice in it, I head for the bar myself. I think someone took our picture—I have bright blue spots in my vision, flashbulb afterimages. Maybe it was the dress. It’s blinding, like a spotlight on her all the time. I can’t believe she’s married—somebody’s wife. Somebody else’s wife. The dancing begins with the bride and groom, alone on the cleared-out floor. He whispers in her ear and she smiles. Now he kisses her. I get my drink just in time, and head back to the table to sit down. Finally the song beings to fade out. As it does, he takes both of Laura’s hands in his, bows over them, kisses her left hand. The scars on the back of her left hand, to be exact. The lights have been dimmed for dancing, but her diamonds glitter as he does it. I watch for a bit as Laura dances with her father, uncles, cousins, friends beyond counting. No matter who she’s with, her eyes slide over to her groom frequently. I look over at him, and see that his eyes are doing the same. Occasionally they do this at the same time. Their eyes meet, and both of their faces open up into smiles that would be cheesy if they weren’t so obviously genuine. Seeing them, the way they look at each other, I know I’ve had it wrong. It’s not merely a mutual fixation that draws their eyes back to each other again and again. If that’s all there was to it, they wouldn’t be able to look away. Whatever love is, this is it, the real thing. I can see it, I can feel it. As much as I want to be with Laura myself, I wouldn’t dream of taking this away from her even if I had the power. Eventually she finds herself alone on the dance floor. She pauses for a drink, then turns her eyes my way. I stand, walk over, take her into my arms at last. I fear it’s now my eyes that look like they’re about to spill over. She asks again if I’m okay. Of course I am. And that’s not entirely true, not now. But it will be. We dance. More accurately, Laura spins while I revolve around her, trying to hold on. We speak little, and I close my eyes briefly to savor the moment. I open them, immediately dazzled by the brilliant flecks of light cast onto everything by the mirrorball that hangs from the darkened ceiling. The satin of the dress is cool and smooth under my hands. Her scent fills my world. She’s stolen another glance at her groom—her husband—but her eyes come now back to mine. I look down into her face, and I smile, the first one I haven’t forced all day. I say I’m happy for her, and this time I think I mean it. I hold Laura a moment longer, knowing I’m about to lose her for good. She’s looking into my eyes, not at her husband…and then she pulls away. As she turns to press herself into his arms, I take her left hand in both of mine and gently caress the scars there one last time before walking away.