Sex Snob (21 page)

Mr. Fitzpatrick looked at me closely, as if trying very hard to place me.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I can’t seem to remember.”

“It’s fine.
I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s just funny seeing you here.” Though a part of me was a little sad he didn’t remember. The man in front of me was older and slightly rounder now, but he had been an Adonis twelve years ago. I knew exactly what I could say to jog his memory.
Come to think of it, maybe I was happy he didn’t remember me.

“Yeah, small world,” he replied warmly.
“So, what can I get you guys?”

We placed our orders and Mr. Fitzpatrick busied himself making our drinks.
When he returned them to us, I put five dollars on the bar, thanked him, and started to turn away. But before I got a full 180 degrees, I heard him.

“Wait, Amanda Bishop, huh?
That name is starting to ring some bells.”

Oh crap.
I turned back around slowly, and the others did the same.

“Yes, yes, I remember.
You’re the girl who slipped me the note with your phone number in it on the back of your final exam. How have ya been?”

And shit just got weird.

Mr. Fitzpatrick now seemed incredibly excited to speak to me. I felt three wide eyes people all staring at me, their mouths nearly hitting the floor. Kyle started laughing hysterically and excused himself from the group. Kate followed him, but Shane was glued to my side. And though I refused to look over at him, my periphery could make out his smirk.

“Yeah, that’s me.
I was . . . whew, so crazy back then.”
Clearly, not much has changed though
. I laughed uncomfortably as Shane nearly spit out his drink. “But, I’ve been good. Really good. I’m a financial planner now. Are you still teaching?” I was trying to keep my voice light, but mortification made it squeaky.

“Oh, yeah, I’m still at it.
Well, listen, it was great to see ya. I’ve gotta take care of these other folks.”

“Oh, of course,” I interrupted, desperate to get the hell out of there.
“Enjoy your night.”

“You, too.
And, Amanda?” I looked at him expectantly. “Is your phone number still the same?” The glint in his eye made it hard to tell if he was teasing me, or if he was being a total creep.

“Uh, no, it isn’t.”

“Too bad. See ya around.” And with that goodbye/threat, Mr. Fitzpatrick moved on to other guests.

Once we were a few feet away, Shane started laughing.

“Don’t,” I warned.

“God, you make it too damn easy.”

“I said don’t.” But my tone wasn’t threatening as I tried to bite back a smile.

“You just gave me ammunition for years to come.
You’re never living that little exchange down.” Shane was laughing so hard, his face was turning beet red and tears were welling up in his eyes.

“I was just a little ahead of my time is
all. Now it’s all the rage to bang your teacher.”

“Yeah, you were a real trailblazer.”
His hysterics roared with that one, as he began convulsing with laughter.

We walked over to where Kyle and Kate were standing beside a stone wall that ran the perimeter of the terrace.

“Before you even start,” I said to Kyle, “are you really surprised?”

Kyle pondered that for a moment before replying, “Nope.”

“Then let’s drop it.”

We discussed nothing much in particular for the rest of the cocktail hour. We were eventually prompted to start heading inside for the reception. When we walked past the bar, I couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance at Mr. Fitzpatrick. And while I hoped I was mistaken, I think I saw him wink at me.

“You sure you don’t want to give him your address?
It’ll save him the trouble of following you home,” Shane whispered in my ear.

Guess I wasn’t mistaken.

***

We found our seats, which were situated by one of the wet bars.
Thankfully, Mr. Fitzpatrick wasn’t working that one. I took in the large ballroom, with an ornate chandelier hanging over a sizable parquet dance floor. There were windows lining one wall that looked out on the terrace. There were easily twenty-five tables in the room, all with white linen-covered chairs and red bows.

Not long after we were seated, the DJ began announcing the wedding party.
Everyone was cheering as the couples walked in to “Sexy Back.” Finally, we were told to stand and “Give it up for Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Kline.” We all clapped loudly as the couple entered, hands clasped, smiles wide. They moved toward the middle of the dance floor where they had their first dance to some country song I had never heard before.

Then, the DJ announced that the bride would dance with her father. I watched with glassy eyes as Jen’s father
took her hand on the dance floor. And as he embraced her right hand in his and guided her in time to the music, I wondered if that’s who had taught her to dance.
Had they practiced the comfortable hold they had on one another in their living room? Did Jen learn to dance by putting her feet on her father’s while they listened to old records?

I had been to plenty of weddings in the last few years, and though I can’t say I never thought about who would walk me down the aisle or what I would do instead of the father-daughter dance, I’d never
felt
this. Something about this wedding struck me deeply. Like someone had jabbed a serrated knife inside my gut and twisted it over and over again. And just when I thought that was as deep as it could go, they pushed it in just a little bit further.

This wasn’t me.
I wasn’t the girl who cried at weddings. I didn’t cry tears of joy, and I certainly didn’t cry tears of sadness. But as the stinging behind my eyes made its way to the front, I knew I had to pull myself together. “Excuse me,” I said as I stood from the table, “I need a cigarette.”

A cigarette?
What the hell was that excuse? I don’t even smoke.
I could have said anything.
I need to use the restroom. I have to take an important phone call. I’m a member of a secret British military group, and my helicopter’s just landed outside.
But now, any hope I had of escaping without drawing attention to myself had just vanished.

I quickly exited through the double doors and made my way outside.
The brisk autumn air stung my cheeks through my salty tears. But the smell of leaves and the cool oxygen hitting my lungs made it easier to breathe. I leaned against the building and fished through my clutch for something to wipe my face.

Until a deep, soothing voice interrupted my search.
“Here.”

I knew who had said it.
But I looked up anyway to see Shane holding a box of tissues. He must have taken the whole box from the men’s room on his way outside. But instead of handing me one, he cupped my burning cheek with his soft hand and swept away a stray tear with his thumb. His hand lingered longer than it needed to. But not long enough.

“Thanks,” I said.

His blue stare bore through me. “Are you okay?”

I struggled to keep my voice steady, but it faltered anyway.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I just needed some fresh air.”

“You’re clearly not fine.
Let me rephrase that. It was a dumb question. What I meant to ask is, what’s wrong?”

“I
am
okay. Really. Don’t worry about me.” I dropped my eyes toward the ground, not able to maintain eye contact.

“That’s impossible . . . not to worry,” he whispered.
“When I saw you get up from the table like that . . . with tears in your eyes . . . all I
did
was worry.” His fingertips brushed under my chin as he brought my gaze up to meet his again. “At least I know it wasn’t me that pissed you off this time.”

I was thankful for the small laugh that I exhaled.

“There’s a smile,” Shane said as he let his own creep across his face. “And you’re a terrible liar, you know. Talk to me.”

I inhaled a shaky breath and dabbed a tissue below my eyes, trying not to smudge my mascara, but something told me it was a little late for that.
In what felt like one breath, I told Shane everything: that even if someone eventually wanted to marry me, seeing Jen’s father walk her down the aisle and dance with her reminded me that I didn't have my own.

“First of all,” Shane began, “why
wouldn’t
someone want to marry you?”

“Are you kidding?
I can’t even get through a stranger’s wedding without looking like a complete train wreck. Look at me.” I kept my eyes locked on his and swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

His lips parted, and I could sense Shane wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure whether or not he should.
“I
am
looking at you,” he said as he brushed a stray hair away from my face with his cool fingertips. “You’re beautiful.”

The comment should have made me feel uneasy.
I couldn’t help but think that I should look away. But my eyes wouldn’t drag themselves from his.

“And secondly,” he added, “you have a right to feel the way you do.
You’re missing a father you never had. It’s understandable." He paused for a moment, as if to decide how to say what he revealed next. "My father passed away when I was twelve. I know it’s not the same. And it’s different for a woman . . . I mean, at a wedding like this. I’m sure it’s different. But I know what it’s like to miss something. To miss
someone
.”

“That’s why you have dinner with your mom every
Sunday. So she’s not lonely?”

“She says I remind her of him.
My mannerisms, my speech, little things like that. But I was so young when he died, it’s hard for me to remember that stuff. But if it helps her remember . . . well, then I guess it’s worth it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?
In your car that night when I told you about
my
father?” I shook my head, confused.

“I didn’t tell you then because that was
your
moment. That was
your
story. It wasn’t about me. It’s not about me now either. I just thought that knowing I understand a little of what you’re going through might help.”

And somehow it did.
“What happened? How did he die, I mean if you don’t mind my asking?”

“No, I don't mind. I guess in some ways it was sudden.
We didn’t expect it right at that moment, but we also weren’t completely surprised by it either. He had diabetes since the time he was fourteen. My whole life he’d had problems with his circulation, and he had so many surgeries. He was always either recovering or getting sicker. There was never a time in my life that I can remember when he was what I’d call healthy. It wasn’t his
fault
. But maybe that’s why I’ve devoted my life to health. I don’t know. I’ve never actually thought about that until just now.” I still struggled to hold back tears, but this time they weren’t for myself. “Anyway, the weeks before he died, he’d been home from the hospital. He’d been getting sicker, but he refused to go back in. It was like he knew he didn’t have much longer, and he wanted to be home. One day during my Christmas break, the rest of us were out of the house, and he had a heart attack at home.”

“God, I’m so sorry.”
It was all I could think to say. And it felt so impersonal.

“It’s okay.
It’s been a long time. I never really know what to say when people tell me they’re sorry. I mean, it’s not your fault. We all lose people we love.”

“Yeah, but what you went through . . . it’s so much sadder than what happened to me.
I mean, I didn’t have anything to lose. I never had anything to begin with. But you had twelve years with him . . . enough to love him . . . to remember who he was, what he acted like . . . and then he was just . . . gone.”

Shane took my hand in both of his and massaged the top with his thumbs.
The delicate touch soothed me. “It’s never easier to have nothing. I got the chance to have twelve years with him. And even though it was difficult when he died, I was always thankful that I got the chance to know him. There’s truth to that old saying about how it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. That’s kind of what I put in the eulogy. I mean, I was too scared to read it myself, but I wrote that—that I was happy to have had twelve years with him—and someone read it for me.”

“That’s amazing . . . that you were able to understand something like that when you were so young.”

“I think the thing that upsets me most is that there were so many times when I wished for him to die. It was so hard to watch him like that for so many years—him in pain, us in pain. I just wanted it all to end. I thought it would be easier if he wasn’t around. Better somehow. I feel guilty for that.”

“Was it?
Easier, I mean?”

“No, it wasn’t.
It’s never easier to lose someone you love. No matter how difficult you think it is to be with them . . . it’s never easier when you’re
not
.”