The BACHELORETTE Project (The Project: LESLEE Series) (39 page)

“Mazel Tov!” the crowd yells.

“Mazel fuckin’ tov!” Karen yells and begins to giggle. She looks around the table. “Where’s the glass?!” she yells in a drunken slur. “Where’s the fuckin’ glass? Let’s step on it and break it!”

“We already did that earlier, remember?” Angelique replies. “There aren’t anymore glasses to break.”

Karen looks confused. “What?!” she answers. “No glass? This is bullshit! What kind of Jewish wedding is this?”
Sadly, she doesn’t remember that the glass has already been broken.
Drunken shenanigans,
I think to myself. Sigh.

Angelique stands up quickly to deter the attention from our intoxicated bride. “I’ll say a few words,” Angelique tells the guests. “Everyone, I want to thank you for joining this beautiful couple on such a wonderful night. It is rare when soulmates find each other, and when they do, they fill their arms and those around them with love—”

“Bullshit!” Karen says, slamming her hand against the table. The other bridesmaids and I begin to smirk. Angelique shoots us dirty looks.

“Love and passion,” Angelique continues. She pauses. “I forgot what I was going to say. One second, ladies and gentlemen. I have it written …” Angelique reaches into her bra and pulls out a small index card. She smiles. “Moving on. My heart is filled with complete joy to see such a young, vibrant couple be not only successful in their careers, but successful in love and life as well. This moment, this day, will be treasured in our souls forever as it will be in theirs. Karen, Russ, I wish the best of luck to you for you have inspired us in love and the greatness it shall hold. Congratulations!” She holds up her glass and smiles. “I’d like to make a toast to the most beautiful couple in Philadelphia. Mazel Tov!”

“Mazel Tov!” the crowd yells and claps.

“Any other words for the bride and groom?” she asks and I stand up. I take a deep breath and look out into the crowd of guests.

“I’ve known these two for years,” I start, “and they’ve been through a lot. Through the trials and tribulations, they’ve been each other’s support system in every way.”

“Amen, sister!” Karen yells and Angelique covers Karen’s mouth with her hand.

“I admire these two so much because they are not just husband and wife. They are best friends.” I turn to Karen. “Karen,” I say, “You are my best friend, and even though I’m telling you this now and you may not remember it in the morning, I love you. You are the sister that I never had.” I finish my champagne and throw my glass to the ground. The crowd watches as it breaks into many pieces. “Mazel fuckin’ Tov!” I yell and Karen jumps to her feet in excitement.

“Mazel fuckin’ Tov!” everyone yells and begins to clap.

“It’s now time for the bride and groom’s first dance,”
t
he DJ says through the microphone. “Mr. and Mrs. Katzovitz, please take the floor.” Karen shakily stands up, and her body slowly proceeds to drop to the floor. A draft of silence enters the room. I shrug my shoulders at the DJ. “OK,” he says. “So we’ll move on from that portion of the reception. Free dance, everybody!” The guests flood to the floor with the most outrageous dance moves I’ve ever seen. It’s sad to watch people with no rhythm whatsoever, especially when there’s a fast paced Madonna song playing.

“Leslee?” I turn around in my seat and see Carter standing behind me.

“Hi!” I say cheerfully. “Are you having a good time?”

“It’s a very interesting wedding,” he says.

“To say the least.”

“You wanna dance?” he asks.

“I thought you couldn’t dance.”

“You can teach me a few steps,” Carter tells me and I laugh. “By the looks of things, no body here can dance at all.” He puts his hand out. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

I finally agree and nod my head. “OK,” I say and he leads me to the dance floor. He’s definitely right about one thing: he can’t dance for shit. The way he gyrates and pivots his hips around the dance floor is nothing less than a frat boy after four pints of beer, ugh!

So, let’s get this straight about Carter. He has the looks, a good job, phenomenal mannerism toward women, he’s funny, goal-oriented, but his dance moves are a complete and utter fail. I guess you really can’t have it all. But in all fairness, he did warn me.
Sigh
.

The DJ softens the mood with Mariah Carey’s “Vision of Love
.
”
Hopefully Carter’s a better slow dancer than disco dancer. He rightfully ruined Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”
for me. I can never, I mean
never
, listen to that song the same again (and why anyone would play that song during a wedding is beyond me).

“Are you having a good time?” he asks as he pulls me closer to him.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s been fun.”

“I told you I was a horrible dancer.”

“That you didn’t lie about,” I agree nodding my head. We both laugh. His handsome face and his smile are all too difficult to deny. He is in fact the perfect guy, but I feel like something is missing. “Listen Carter,” I start, “you are a wonderful guy and I should feel honored that you’re even a tad bit interested in me, but …” I drift off. Why am I doing this? I have the man of my dreams right in front of me but I just don’t feel right. I must be crazy. Hell, I am crazy. I sigh and look into Carter’s eyes. “I wouldn’t be true to my heart if we ever got serious. I’m sorry.”

He smiles. “That’s OK,” he tells me. “I’m just glad you’re being honest.”

“I hope we can still be friends,” I say. “I really enjoy your company … m
uch more than your dancing I hav
e to say.” We both laugh. “I’m glad you understand.”

We continue to dance under the dimmed lights until the song is over. I give him a hug and thank him for the dance. I find Karen in a corner sulked down in a chair. I join her.

“Having fun, Mrs. Katzovitz?” I ask jokingly. She shrugs her shoulders.

“I guess,” she mumbles looking toward the dance floor. “What’s with all the disco music? I told him to play Beyonce!” she whines.

“He did,” I tell her. “You were just too passed out to notice.”

“Why do I feel so sick?” she asks. “This is my
wedding
day! I’m not supposed to feel sick,” she slurs and I pat her head.

“It’s OK. It happens.” I put my arm around her to comfort her. “You know I’m really, really happy for you, Karen. You and Russ are great together.”

She smiles. “Yeah, I think so, too.” She turns her head to me. “I’m married! I’m
finally
married!”

“Yes, Karen. You are finally married,” I tell her. “OK, well I’m going to go outside and get some air if you don’t mind.”

“Go ‘head!” she says cheerfully. “Get some air. Take one of the limos for a ride if you want. Explore Philadelphia! Take the grand tour!”

“You sure?” A limo ride around the city sounds really nice about no
w. I can clear my head a little and
get some fresh Philadelphia air.

“Go!” she says brushing me off. “Take a ride!”

I give her a peck on the cheek. “Thank you, Kare Bear!” I say.

“I’m just going to stay here until you get back and…” Karen’s mind wanders off as she begins to smile and stare at the ceiling.
Okay, then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I climb into the limo and plop down in the seat. I look around the inside admiring how clean and luxurious it is. I wish I could ride in a limousine everyday. I wish life were this relaxing and comfortable. I wish.

The driver rolls down the partition. “You going somewhere or just hangin’ out?” he asks me.

“Both,” I tell him. I think for a second. My mind is cloudy and filled with so many different thoughts. I don’t even know where I want to go to clear my head! “Can we take a ride around Independence Hall?”

“Sure,” he answers. “Anywhere else?”

“Actually, yeah,” I say remembering the picture that Angelique had dropped on my floor earlier today. “The Art Museum.”

“You got it!” the limo driver says as he pulls off into the streets of Philadelphia. Looking out the window, I breathe in every light, every historical building, every eccentric citizen walking on the sidewalk. It’s crazy how beautiful a city can be. One love that I’m definitely sure of is my love for Philadelphia, my home, my sanctuary.

“Here we are, Miss,” the driver says as we pull in front of our destination. “The Philadelphia Museum of Art.”

I take a relieving sigh. “Just perfect,” I say to myself. From the Romanesque pillars to the historical, breathtaking structure, there’s no other place I want to be right now. I exit the limo and just stare at the museum in all its lit up beauty. On the subject of weddings and marriage, this would be my choice. This is where I’d want to tie the knot. So. Completely. Gorgeous.

I walk up the steps in as many graceful strides that I can handle in heels.
Well, this is stupid,
I think to myself. It’s as if my subconscious is telling me that while I’m here I’ll recreate some special moment from my past, bu
t in reality I’m freezing. Cold and wintery
Philadelphia weather. I make it to the top and look up into the sky as miniature snow flurries brush against my face. The funny thing about snow is how crystal-like and magical it looks when it first falls.
Let the snow fall,
I think. It’s almost like I’m letting go of all my thoughts and being carried away in a Cinderella moment. A Cinderella moment … almost like the Cinderella syndrome that I warn my clients about. Nothing in life is a fairytale.
Love
is not a fairytale. Love can sometimes take work. So why at this very moment do I feel like I’m Cinderella and all that’s missing is my Prince Charming?

“So I met this girl in college …” I hear a voice say. I turn around to see none other than Eric walking towards me with white roses in his hands. I blush. “I remember it like it was yesterday. We met in a pre-calculus class, freshman year, fall semester. She sat in front of me and every day it was the same thing. She’d bring in her latte and she always wore a winter hat and a scarf because the classroom was always cold. I remember thinking that she’s always prepared, never late, very smart … and then one day she turned around, looked at me and asked if she could borrow a pencil.” I remember that class, the room, and my horrible hat habit. I smile at the memory of it all. It was a good memory … and I remember the day that I turned around and saw him in the seat behind me. In fact, I remember him having somewhat of a hat habit himself: a worn out maroon, Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap.

“Anyway, from that day, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Her long black hair, her smile, and the way she laughed,” he says, smiling. “I couldn’t get her laugh out of my head because it was the cutest laugh that I’ve ever heard in my life.”
And probably the loudest,
I think to myself. I’ll admit it. I am a loud person in every aspect.

“So, I befriended her, then I asked her out on a date,” he says.

“And what did she say?”

“Well,” he starts, “she said no. She shot me down.”

I begin to shake my head, confused as to what I should say. “Look, I didn’t know that I hurt you when I said no. We were friends!” I exclaim. “I didn’t want to change that.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “You are absolutely right. Anyway, after I was gently rejected by my friend, I decided to join a fraternity. I thought it was the easiest way to get girls and not get attached to them, which by the way wasn’t a bad idea at the time.”

“No, not at all,” I say sarcastically. “It was probably the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.”

“So, this girl,” he starts, “the girl I met in pre-calculus?”

“I’m familiar with that girl …”

“We stayed friends through everything. The good, the bad,
everything
, and we stayed friends for ten years, and it wasn’t until one crazy night with this girl …” Eric takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “I realized that for all these years I was in love with her.” I feel a tear roll down my cheek, and quite frankly, I’m speechless.

Eric hands me the roses and holds my hand tightly. “Leslee,” he says, “I loved you the day I laid eyes on you and that night a few months ago made me realize that my feelings have never changed for you … and I would’ve called. I should’ve called, but I wanted to be absolutely sure before doing this again.”

“Doing what again?” I ask, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Leslee Marie Robinson,” he says as he drops onto one knee. My heart begins to race faster.
What is he doing?!
I think to myself.

“Yes, Eric?” I ask nervously, smiling.

“Will you go out on a date with me?” he smiles. “I know you rejected me ten years ago, but I’m hoping that I have a better chance today.” I begin to laugh and I playfully tap him on the shoulder.

“Of course I’ll go out with you!” I exclaim.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he says as he rises from the ground and picks me up while hugging me. I begin to laugh as he places me on the step. I watch as the snow slowly hits his face, and in that moment, he softly kisses me. I relish in the moment. I never want to let him go.