Miss Impractical Pants (4 page)

“What in the world are you wearing?” an astonished whisper from the row behind warmed her ear.

Katie turned her head toward the familiar mocking voice. “Don’t ask.” Her heart was racing too fast to attempt conversation with Anna, her ultra-pregnant best friend.

“Don’t worry about the old lady Martins.” Rob, Anna’s husband, warmed her other ear.
“Like they have room to talk.
They’re ancient spinsters. We don’t care if you look like a prostitute—we think you look hot.”

Katie turned in his direction and noticed a few other loyal friends, including her dear pal Dylan, all nodding in agreement.

“I can’t believe you would think to wear something like this to Christopher’s wedding!” Anna said. “You’ve got major
cajones.
”

Katie snapped her head back toward her. “I wouldn’t be wearing this dress if it weren’t for Christopher.” She guarded her abdomen with crossed arms. “I hate it—it shows my Little Buddha.”

“Believe
me,
no one is looking at your belly. Who’s the dude?” Anna flicked her chin toward Jared, taking his place next to Christopher at the front of the chapel.

“That’s Christopher’s college buddy—Jared Stone.”

Anna sported her favorite menacing grin and offered one of her annoying
hmmms,
which were always laced with many layers of meaning.

The organ roared to life, announcing the bride’s grand entrance. Katie couldn’t help but feel proud for Christopher. Heather was an ethereal beauty who seemed to float toward him, her excited
pace telling the world she couldn’t float fast enough. She stopped for an infinitesimal moment to honor Katie with a warm smile. It was a bull’s-eye to the heart. Katie’s smile sprung to life on its own volition and was as heartfelt as if she were smiling at a sister.

As Katie listened to Christopher and Heather exchange vows, she felt certain she wasn’t losing her Christopher, but adding Heather to her patchwork family. Despite gaining that comfort, Katie couldn’t shake the curious feeling of emptiness that filled her chest.

After the chapel had almost cleared, Katie and Anna were still seated, sniffing and dabbing their eyes.

“Well, Dylan, I guess we should get these two crybabies to the dining room,” Rob suggested. Bringing his arms in front of him in a long, exaggerated stretch, he gave Katie a playful shove. “I’m starving, and the sooner everyone gets seated, the sooner we eat. You take lumpy here,” he smiled down at his pregnant wife,
then
glanced at Katie. “And I’ll take C-3PO.”

“No way!
You take the Round One,” Dylan joked.

“Ow!” they both cried as Anna bit one, then the other on the arm—a defense she’d been using since the third grade. Katie rubbed her arm, thinking how much less it hurt back then when Anna was missing most of her front teeth.

“Come on, man, it’s always been my boyhood dream to have a life-size
Star Wars
action figure.” Rob picked up both of Katie’s arms and began to work them in violent punching motions, making the accompanying sound effects.

“And I’ve always wanted to be seen with a high-dollar prostitute,” Dylan replied.

Katie wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t, not with Jared standing at the front of the chapel boring his gaze into her.

Anna stood and grabbed Katie’s arm, dragging her into the aisle, “Let’s go. These two can stay here and play out their sick fantasies.”

“This couldn’t get any more perfect! It’s like Christmas morning!” Rob howled with delight. “Tell me they don’t look like C-3PO and R2-D2 standing there together.” Tossing the little point-and-shoot camera he kept in his jacket pocket to Dylan, he shimmied in between the two women. “Dyl, get a picture of me with the two droids, will ya?”

Dylan obliged, extracting a promise from Rob to return the favor.

No sooner had Rob and Dylan swapped places than a tense arm curled around Katie’s waist, pulling her away from the others.

“Come on, Katie, I’ll help you to your table,” Jared plowed into the moment.

“Um…uh…okay,” Katie mumbled, distracted by her friends’ conspicuous glances.

“See you at dinner, 3PO.” Rob saluted, making no attempt to hide his smile.

Maybe if Jared displayed some conversational skills, Katie wouldn’t have felt her breasts beginning to sag with age. But he didn’t. He just wore a dopey grin, and Katie couldn’t shake the feeling she’d squandered years instead of seconds in his company.

“Thanks.” Katie forced a smile at Jared as he insisted on helping her into her seat.

Jared nodded. “You’re welcome.”

He’s not leaving? Why isn’t he leaving?
He lingered statue-still and silent by her side—very Secret Service-like—until the lights dimmed and he was obligated to take his place among the bridesmaids and other groomsmen.
             
             

Anna put her hands to her mouth as if she were talking into a radio. “Pshhttt, Captain, it looks like the golden nugget has encountered a Klingon.”

Laughter exploded from the table. Seated two tables in front, Heather’s sister shot them angry glares and
shushes
. Her directorial debut,
The Life and Times of Christopher and Heather,
was about to start, and she was bent on having a captive audience for the soul-sucking slideshow. But Anna’s attention span was gobbled up before Christopher had reached puberty. “So, I learned through the grapevine that your Klingon friend is a cop,” she whispered.

“That explains a lot,” Katie murmured.

“He’s kind of hot, don’t you think?” Anna studied the tablecloth, pretending to be casual.

“Not hot enough to hold this conversation.” Katie was not oblivious to the eavesdroppers around the table and hoped to rip all speculations out by the roots. However, Anna bulldozed right over the “case closed” vibe.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“Nothing, he’s just not my type.”

“Oh jeez.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “Your type only exists in your imagination.”

Katie pretended to be enthralled by the slideshow.

“So what makes this one
not
your type?” Dylan joined in.

Katie threw a scowl at him and hissed, “Nothing—he just isn’t, okay?”

“Maybe she’s worried he’ll be a Mr. Cheapskate,” Rob scoffed.

For the benefit of those who weren’t laughing, Anna explained the inside joke. “Katie made the unfortunate mistake of accepting a date with the ultimate cheapskate.”

“I’m pretty sure Rob’s mother guilted me into going on a blind date with him,” Katie corrected.

“Anyway, he insisted they go to a country-themed restaurant—the kind frequented by senior citizens.” Having laughed over it a million times, Anna knew this story as if it were her own. “He announced—not just to Katie, but the entire restaurant—that he didn’t have much money, so they would have to share a platter of nachos. So Katie offers to pay, right? And Mr. Cheapskate gets super pissed and reminds her that he’s a ‘gentleman.’”

“Anna, nobody wants to hear this story,” Katie interrupted, trying to head off another game inspired by her dating disasters.

Encouraged by everyone else’s goading, Anna charged on. “I don’t think he’d ever read any sort of manual on gentlemanliness, because when the nachos came, he just dug right in without even offering her any. Every time he took a chip, he held it up high, hunched down, and chased the tail of cheese with his mouth, letting his tongue wag in the air until the food made contact.” She made a demonstration of the movements. “Then, he’d wrestle the nacho into his mouth with his tongue, chew twice, and swallow.”

Katie pictured the scene as if she were again reliving the moment and shuddered.

“The most disgusting part,” Anna howled, “is that he cleaned his fingers by poking each one into his mouth.”

Katie could feel the pressure of at least ten different pairs of eyes studying her. She forced a lighthearted laugh. “Okay, enough.”

“I’m not done!”

“Did you guys ever hear about Mr. Sweatpants?” Rob asked, eager to keep the table laughter going.

“He was a nice guy,” Anna said. “You should have given him a chance.”

“He shouldn’t have worn sweatpants on a first date,” Katie said.

“Tell the one about the Bounty Hunter,” Dylan hooted.

“My favorite is the Sex-Crazed Security Guard,” Rob howled.

“That is still the most disturbing blind-date memory I have.” Katie shuddered. “And we’re not sharing it.”

“Oh, come on, Katie,” Dylan pleaded. “It’s hilarious.”

“No.”

Though her friends respected her wishes on that story, they had no regard for the ones about the Mullet Man, the Stalking Stock Broker, or the ever-popular Gangsta Julian.

When the lights finally flicked back on after the slideshow, lolling heads around the room bolted upright as if they’d been wide awake and one hundred percent captivated. There was a collective sigh of gratitude, but no one felt the relief more than Katie. The others may have been enjoying a good laugh at her expense, but all she saw were flashbacks of a decade of failed relationships.

“Hallelujah!” Anna rejoiced. “Just in case this is only an intermission, Rob and I are making a run for it.” She shot up, tugging
at Rob’s arm.
“Bye everyone.
Sorry, Dyls, we didn’t get to chat more, but I’d rather eat this baby’s placenta then sit another minute. Talk to you tomorrow, Katie.”
             

Though it wasn’t just an intermission, the rest of the group followed Anna’s example and peeled away from the table couple by couple, leaving just Katie and Dylan. She scooted over a couple of seats and edged up to him, grateful to have a one-on-one, as opposed to a dozen-against-one, conversation.

“Finally, I have you all to myself,” Katie said. “We need to do some serious catching up.”

His face contorted into a guilty frown. “I don’t have that long. I’ve got to get a taxi to the airport. I’m taking the redeye back to D.C. tonight.”

Her eyebrows sprung up in mock admiration.
“My, when did you get to be so important, Mr. Political Advisor to the Morally Defunct?
Are you seeing anyone yet?”

Dylan, though straight, was more effeminate than Katie and Anna put together. Perfect red circles now flared at the top of his pale fleshy cheeks. “No, I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t have time for women. I need to focus on my career—Senator Henson is a good stepping stone for me.”

“Okay, okay.” Katie patted his arm. Dylan’s tender feelings were extra sensitive this evening. “Just remember us little people when you’ve become the wildly important crap cleaner-upper to all of Satan’s most prominent senators.”

“Just the ones who support good policies,” he corrected. “And Katie, I could never forget you—even if I tried.”

She flashed him her grandest smile.

Dylan giggled at her obvious wiles, unable to resist bringing her in for a hug. “Oh, Katie, I’ve missed you!”

She nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Noticing he had the subtle scent of the Burberry cologne he’d worn since high school, she felt nostalgic for his company.