Reaction (9 page)

Barbie Doll
. Liz was spot on.

I hadn’t realized Nick was watching me scrutinize the girl, seeing too much. He caught my eye and then looked away. I didn’t know what he was expecting. For the girl and I to be best friends? For all of us to become one big happy family?

Not happening.

While the two entrée choices were discussed and decided upon by each group at the table, Nick was engaged in conversation by Peter. If my memories were accurate, they were once friends.

“When’s the big day?” I heard Peter ask.

Paige, finding her way into their conversation, replied, “December thirtieth.”

Instead of lashing out in a jealous rage, I lost my patience with the waiter who’d twice asked Nick if he wanted a glass of wine. “He doesn’t drink—” I called across the table.

“He doesn’t drink—” Paige said at the same time. And then our faces met.

Word for word, her sentence had come right on top of mine. The table turned unnervingly quiet as our eyes connected.

Her face turned bitter and mine turned away.

Back off, he’s mine
, her look seemed to warn.

My averted glance didn’t respond, though my blood iced instantly.

The space between us was pressing with unspoken words.

“Um, Jinx?” suggested Peter.

The waiter continued around the table, oblivious to the confrontation beginning under his nose. When he presented the wine to me, I took a deep breath, shook my head, and then glanced toward Nick.

He was looking steadily back at me, hopefully missing the rage and humiliation my face tried to hide.

“Should we go get our salads?” Creed looked at Liz, then across the table to the others.

Paige’s face remained even. “Yes, that sounds nice. I’ll grab some fruit for you, babe.” She gave a love-squeeze to Nick’s bicep.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Liz answered Creed. “I’m famished!”

The salad bar—apparently an Architectural Department tradition supplied by a famous local restaurant known for their salads—was across the ballroom on a sidewall. Nick and I had both never been big salad bar fans. Evidently neither was Peter, and he also stayed behind as the group left.

At first impression, she wasn’t Nick’s type at all. She was stuffy, tame, she drank, she passed on the rolls, of course, and she liked salad bars. And she was blonde! I broke off a piece of bread and put it in my mouth. It tasted like paper. After a few difficult chews, I couldn’t hold back my thoughts any longer. And besides, it was an honest question.

“I thought you preferred brunettes.” The comment was childish. I knew it even before I heard Peter’s muffled laugh. My adrenalin was in complete overdrive at the moment, apparently taking control of my mouth. And I’d become so accustomed to speaking my mind to him, I couldn’t just squelch the habit overnight.

He only frowned at me as if to say, ‘Grow up’.

Still, within his frown, I practically fell apart at the way he stared at me. Because he was staring at me. Because his face was stunning, even when it glowered. But mostly because the look drew me beneath his beauty; to that part of him I loved the most.

After forcing down my bread with a large gulp of water, I made myself apologize. “She’s pretty,” I admitted, shoving the words out. I should have had the strength to stop there; or if only the salad bar line wasn’t so long and they had returned sooner, or why couldn’t Peter butt in when he was supposed to? But none of that happened and out came, “If only her nose wasn’t so off-center.”

I couldn’t believe I’d said it. Where had it come from? It was awful of me. I was the worst sort of person. And I could only imagine the look on Nick’s face. I avoided it for as long as possible, eventually unable to stop myself from glancing across the table. He raised a questioning eyebrow at me, and then began rubbing the back of his head. Peter’s head was also down, but I didn’t have to see his face to know he was shaking with laughter.

The table rustled as the group returned from the salad bar. Paige gazed at Nick with a mildly puzzled look as both he and Peter cleared their throats. Peter must have had trouble schooling his features because his face was flushed but blank when it came up.

I shrugged off Liz’s questioning glance and promised with my face that I’d fill her in later on the bad-formed remark she’d missed.

“I was just telling Creed about the project you and I are working on,” the older gentleman spoke toward Nick while resting his salad on the table and adjusting the black cocktail napkin under his drink. The man then addressed the table at large. “A commercial construction company here in St. Louis has been commissioned by the state to renovate four dozen strip-malls throughout Missouri. And two of Nick’s designs were chosen for the project.”

“Jackson Enterprise Construction?” Peter asked Nick.

“Gateway,” Nick responded, a touch belatedly.

“It’s a tremendous undertaking,” the gentleman went on. “But the end in mind is to transform the old decomposed buildings found in downtown areas of smaller cities, into fresh modern styles. A mini face-lift to the state, so-to-speak.”

“And not soon enough,” Paige added. “It’s high time we do something about the lower class areas around here. The smaller towns in Missouri are such eyesores.” Her next comment was addressed to the gentleman and his wife. “Did you know that some households in the farming areas don’t even have flushable toilets? Can you imagine?”

Nick interposed, however lackadaisically, “That’s against code. Where did you hear that?”

“I read it in a local decorating magazine, babe.” She shuttered as if it was the most disgusting idea she’d ever heard of. “Creed, Heather, where are you two from?” She said ‘you two’ as if Creed and I were married and then took a tiny fork of lettuce as if whatever we had to say wasn’t worth half a penny.

“We’re both from a town about four hours west of here,” Creed jumped in, evidently sensing that I had already stuck my foot in my mouth and was about to again. “Called Nevada City. It’s relatively small. But lucky for us, our toilets flush.” And then he winked at her.

My eyes quickly shot to Nick, wondering how he’d take to Creed taunting his fiancé. But Nick missed the wink, evidently more curious to see my reaction to the conversation than hers.

Surfacing for the second time was the sound of Liz’s nose laugh.

“I see,” Paige said softly, glancing toward Liz and then cleaning the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

“And you?” Creed inquired politely.

She finished swallowing and then took a taste of wine before answering, “I’m from here in St. Louis. The Gateway to the West, as they say.”

Liz and I glanced at each other, sharing an invisible roll of our eyes.

But Paige interrupted our private moment with the comment, “Cute dress, Heather.”

Even though she said my name as if it were a parasite, I thanked her anyway.

“You’re brave to wear a summer dress out of season,” she followed. “Aren’t you cold?”

Clearly the girl missed the jacket draped over my chair. But I kept my composure and smiled. Because this was it. The moment I’d been waiting for. My time to shine. To say something clever and witty and perfect. To put her in her place.

And I was certain if I’d taken the time to think, something just like that would have emerged from my mouth. But I spoke too quickly, and what came out was, “No. I’m warm.”

I could almost hear Nick’s skepticism from across the table,
Yeah, right. You’re never warm
. I didn’t dare look at him, knowing I would feel even stupider if I caught a doubtful, pitying look on his face.

Liz cleared her throat. “Well I think it would be fun to grow up in a small town!” she threw in. “Where everyone knows each other, and the whole town is at the local high school football games on Friday nights, and the town grocery store is owned by your neighbor, and everyone goes to church together on Sunday—”

“That does sound charming, doesn’t it Nick?” Paige agreed readily. “Maybe after we’re married, we can buy a little country cottage to escape to every once in a while.”

The announcer tapped on the microphone, not soon enough, claiming everyone’s attention.

What happened over the next few minutes was a blur through my over-worked emotions. Paige and the older couple turned their chairs around to face the front, while other chairs were angled properly. The award’s ceremony started, and individual awards were given out. Throughout the presentations, my jealousy toward the girl took a back seat to my utter bafflement. I tried to fathom what he could possibly see in her. The girl was the pampered, proper, uppity type; my complete opposite. Maybe his taste in girls had changed. Or maybe I was never really his type to begin with. He did give me a hard time once, when we were at a restaurant and I talked him into leaving the salt and pepper shakers loose for the next customer. But it was only once. And hadn’t he laughed afterward? Perhaps what he really wanted was someone serious and mature, someone who would be a responsible wife, from a respectable home. And that would mean that girl was exactly what he wanted.

But her voice was monotone and her personality so witless. Yawn.

I was proud to admit there was only one time during the banquet when my emotions got the best of me. It was during Nick’s presentation, the last award of the night. The announcer began explaining how Nick’s project had been built on-sight and consequently couldn’t be on display like many of the other projects. But he went on and on about Nick’s prowess and pioneering talents. In the middle of the announcer’s praise, Paige turned toward Nick and patted his knee to show how proud she was. My eyes fastened to the girl’s hand, and the ring on her finger. I waited and waited, but the girl’s stupid hand wouldn’t move. It remained there, compressed around his thigh. And that’s when I felt Liz’s hand find mine and squeeze firmly. To lessen the pain I squeezed back, hoping she would sense my appreciation. Heaven knew I couldn’t have told her at that moment.

Nick accepted the award, shaking hands with the president of the architecture department, as well as a few of the department heads. I couldn’t help notice the satisfaction on Paige’s face. What a deserving, primed, lucky woman she was. And what an attractive, sharp fiancé she had. A man who managed to receive the highest honor for his skillful project; a project loosely inspired by the poor, inferior girl on the other side of the table wearing a plain summer dress. The irony took the last of my spirits. It would have been grossly out of place, but I almost started to giggle…those bipolar emotions of mine….

“If you’ll excuse me,” Paige said when Nick returned to the table. “I need to powder my nose.” She pushed her chair back and stood, collecting the pink satin clutch from the table and then brushing her legs by Nick’s. He held her waist and moved her around the chair.

She was going to powder her nose. Who does that?

Even though Nick remained preoccupied and withdrawn, the air around the table seemed to breathe more evenly in her absence. Several times I attempted to act non-affected by throwing out a random comment or idly fiddling with something on the table, and I hoped desperately that it was working. I did manage to keep a happy face, which would hopefully make up for my lack of conversation.

Shortly, the microphone squeaked and the president of the architectural department summoned all award recipients and board members to the dance floor to open the dancing for the night.

“That’s us, son,” the older gentleman replied toward Nick. But he didn’t, nor did anyone else at the table, make the slightest stir.

“Terrible time for Paige to step out,” Peter declared in that amused, sarcastic way of his.

“If you ask nicely,” the gentlemen said with a straight face that hid a smile, “I’m sure one of these lovely ladies at the table will take pity on you. Though I’m afraid this one’s taken.” He took his wife’s hand and motioned her to him.

“Heather will dance with him,” Liz said before she caught my protesting face, apparently not sensing my deflated countenance.

“What benevolent friends you have,” the gentleman teased Nick while escorting his wife off.

“Oh yes, please do go dance together,” Peter encouraged with perverse enjoyment.

Creed leaned back with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose, unquestionably aware of the emotions behind my blank face.

Liz looked back and forth between Nick and I, unsure if she’d done the right thing.

After a tight lull, Nick moved his chair back and stood, ignoring everyone but me, looking my way with a completely schooled expression.

I pretended not to notice the annoyance hidden in his face and stood, winking at Liz in a silent “it’s okay” message, and then easily walking around my chair as if I wasn’t stepping into a dangerous game of emotional truth or dare. Without a care in the world, I began a tall, secretly terrified walk toward Nick.

“This is some of the best entertainment I’ve had all year,” I heard Peter mumble. And then, “Ouch.” I suspected someone’s kick landed on the mark.

We walked toward the dance floor, weaving around a few chairs. His face was tempered by a bland, almost bored expression, but there was nothing warm or even aloof about it. No, he had a definite opinion about what had just happened.