What He's Been Missing (19 page)
Read What He's Been Missing Online
Authors: Grace Octavia
Testing his speakers, the DJ began to play Celine Dion's “Because You Loved Me.”
“God, I hate this song,” Krista said, playfully covering her ears.
“It's Ian's favorite.”
“Really? Mr. African American History likes Celine Dion?”
“We sang it together one time at a karaoke bar on spring break,” I said. “It's been our special song ever since.”
“Oh,” Krista said, but she seemed distracted looking down at the song list.
“What?”
“Just thatâI don't know if you noticed, but, well, that's the song they chose for their first dance. That's their song,” Krista said.
All I could do was close my eyes and breathe deeply.
“I'm so sorry, Rachel,” Krista said. “Just the way you two were . . . no one would've thought he'd . . . choose her.... I'm so sorry.”
“You know what? No more sorries. Promise that. Forever.”
Krista slid her arm around my waist and gave me a half hug that said, “I'm sorry.”
I could hear Celine's voice bellowing through the hallway behind me after I walked out of the ballroom to head back to my room.
Weddings, from beginning to end, have a rhythm, a beat that takes off on the morning of the ceremony, climaxes at the altar, and subsides somewhere at the reception when the couple has their first dance or tastes that first piece of wedding cake. And the rhythm can be anything. Jazz, hip-hop, salsa, blues, rock and roll, classical, even country. It depends on the couple, the place, the time of day, how the sun shines, if raindrops fall. Whatever it is, I can feel it hours before the couple takes to the altar to say “I do.” In my feet as I run around making adjustments; all around me, as I talk to the soon-to-be-newlyweds. And it's so beautiful to experience. To sense the beginning, middle, and ending of this short song in the entire opus of their lives together. And knowing I'm a part of getting that song just rightâlike a classical conductor on her stand directing with the batonâis one of the biggest joys of what I do.
Standing in my hotel room, looking at my bridesmaid dress, steamed and lovely, hanging on the back of the bathroom door, I tried so hard to hear the rhythm of Ian's wedding. All day, I'd gone about business as usual. Clipboard in my hand, I pretended everything was as fine as it could be. As fine as the world might have it after I'd taken the chance to gain something and nearly lost everything. All I heard was a dull, drab stream of white noiseâwhatever that sounds like. Nothing. I wondered if everyone else could hear it, too. If I'd put it there. If me chasing my needs had robbed Ian of the music of his big day.
I put the orange dress on with my bottom lip hanging so low from my face, I nearly got it caught in the zipper. In the mirror, I looked more like I was going to Ian's funeral than his wedding. Maybe Xavier was wrong. Maybe I should've gotten my silly ass right on that first flight back to Atlanta. I was no good to Ian like this. I was no good to anyone at all. (Violins, please.)
I slid on my shoes, grabbed my clutch, and promised myself I'd stop at the hotel bar for a shot before I went to the bridal suite to get in line with the other bridesmaids. I remembered my toilet-bowl promise of hours earlier to stop drinking, but this was a special case. In fact, maybe I needed to stop at the gift shop for a flask.
Xavier was standing at the door when I opened it.
“I didn't think you could get any more beautiful,” he said, looking so effortlessly debonair in his suit I wanted to slug him in the stomach for every girl's heart he'd ever broken. “But here you are.”
“Thank you,” I said tightly. I'd thought about Tante Heru and her promise to send me true, perfect loveâthe man of my dreams; all that I've been missingâat sunup. What a waste of fifty dollars. A belly full of bourbon, eyes filled with tears, and a broken heart, I had wanted to believe in her and her little accent. That it could be that easy. Speak to the universe of love, shake a chicken foot at it, and voilà ! But no! Xavier was no Mr. Right. Not even Mr. Right Now. More like Mr. All Wrong. And I could tell by how good he was looking in his suit. As Uncle Cat said, “Men like me are too pretty to fall in love.”
“ âThank you,' ” Xavier mocked me, making my voice sound like a robot's. “Come on! I go to talk to my boy and get you back in the wedding and that's all a brother gets? I thought we were allies!”
“Fine, Xav. Well, thank you for helping me out earlier,” I said as kindly as I could. I actually felt a little bad that my voice sounded so glum. “Look, I'm sorry. I'm just a little confused. This is the second time I'm opening my door and you're standing here. I'm just wondering what you want.”
“I want to make sure you're OK.”
“Please. I doubt Mr. All About Me cares about how I'm doing.”
“ âAll About Me' was just a little name some girls on campus gave me. I had nothing to do with it,” he replied and it was such a lie we both laughed.
“Xav, you had that shit sewn into your sheets,” I pointed out.
“Someone gave those to me.”
“It's tattooed on your back!”
“Damn! You got me!” he said, looking like he'd just lost a bet.
I giggled at his breakdown and he pinched my cheek.
“Made you laugh,” he said gently.
“Yeah, you did.”
“I really did want to make sure you're OK. I can't have you up in the wedding crying like we're at a funeral.”
“How's Ian?”
“He's fine. The brothers have his back.” Xavier popped his collar a little. “And now I believe one of those brothers would like to escort you to the bridal suite.” He held out his elbow for me to latch on.
“Escort me?”
“Yes, Mi Lady,” he said in an English accent. “Shall we?”
“You're too much,” I answered, holding on to him.
Â
Krista had just finished prepping the bridesmaids when Xavier and I got to the suite. She was walking out with empty bottles of wine in her arms.
“Guess I didn't need to stop at the bar,” I said.
“It's like a sorority house in there,” Krista said. “Those chicks are wild.”
“Let me take those.” Xavier took the bottles from Krista's arms.
“You should've let the hotel staff pick these up,” I said.
“I was afraid one of the girls would knock a bottle over and crack her head open.”
“They're that bad? Probably a runover from last night. Look, go and order two carafes of coffee. We can't have them wobbling down the aisles,” I ordered.
“I already did that, boss lady.”
“Hum . . .” I nodded at Krista. “And where's your bride?”
“Hair and makeup. She'll be down in five minutes.” Krista poked out her hip and crossed her arms dramatically. “Anything else?”
“No. Looks like you're on a roll. I'm scared of you.”
Xavier pushed the suite door open with his free arm.
“I'm gonna walk her downstairs to get rid of these bottles,” he said as if it was his duty in some way to inform me of where he was going. “See you later.”
“Thanks again,” I said more softly this time. I really had appreciated his help. He'd kept me laughing the entire way to the suite.
I stepped into the doorway and he started backing away in front of Krista, who was behind him staring at me all bug eyed and suggestive. I broke her nosy stare by looking away and frowning.
“Focus,” I said before turning into the suite. “Focus.”
The only thing missing from the bridal suite was a kegger and go-go dancers. I'd seen wedding parties cut the fool before, but those were usually the groomsmen. Krista wasn't lying. These ladies were having a good old time. When I walked in, one of the bouquets was in the air. The matron of honor was dancing on top of a chair and another bottle of wine was being uncorked. Then I remembered whose company I was inâmarried, engaged, and spoken-for women. Really, they weren't too different from groomsmen. Weddings were more of a social event for them. An opportunity to cut loose and take shots, all in the name of love.
“I'll take that,” I said, snatching the wine bottle and taking a few sips before heading over to the sink to empty it out. The wedding was starting in an hour.
“Awww! Don't be a hater,” Jennifer shouted so loudly I was sure the hotel staff would be coming to the suite any minute.
“Oh, I hate to be a party pooper, but it's almost showtime, ladies,” I said after a collective groan.
“Was that Xavier outside?” the married triplet asked with her head half in and out of the suite door.
“Let me look,” the engaged triplet said, running up behind her sister. “I know that sweet ass anywhere.” She was too late. “Damn, he's gone,” she added.
“That man is a fucking orgy in a body, bitch,” Jennifer said, sounding more like a street walker than a med-school grad. “He can get it anyway . . . and anyday.”
Engaged triplet came over and gave Jennifer a fist pump.
“What? Aren't you about to get married?” I asked, feeling like I was back at FAMU in the dorm with some girls swooning over Xavier.
“ âAbout to' is the key, Rachelâas in, I'm not married right now.” She gave her married sister a high-five and they giggled like hyenas.
“Well, I'm definitely not married,” the triplet whose boyfriend was the DJ said. “And I went and knocked on Xavier's door last night . . . no dice.”
“Really?” Jennifer asked.
The women huddled around for the 411.
“I told him that I was too drunk to go to my roomâthat my boyfriend would be mad that I was so jacked up. I needed to get myself together.”
“What did he do?” Jennifer pushed.
“Girl, he gave me a cup of water and some Excedrin,” she said.
“I opened my legs wide enough so he could see my neon thong.
That fool put a towel over my legs and walked out. Said he was going for his morning jog. It was dark as fuck outside.”
The room erupted in mocking laughter.
“I don't get it,” she went on. “I didn't think he'd turn me down.”
I was on her side. I couldn't believe it. She was trim, tall, light skinned, had big breasts. His type. I was wondering if she was really talking about Xavier.
“I heard he was a big player in college,” someone said.
“I know. I was counting on that when I went to his room.” She turned to me. “Was he? Is it true what they say? That he gave half the women at FAMU their first orgasm?”
“Well . . . kinda,” I said. “I'm not sure that's something to be proudâ”
“Oh God! I love him,” she said. “He's the one! The total package: fine, filthy rich, and a good fuck! What more could a girl want? I'm about to break up with Austin and marry him!”
We laughed at her revelation. She was clearly joking in the way brothers do when they say they'll marry a stripper. The sincerity in her voice was priceless. Still, I was more shocked that Xavier had turned her down.
“You'll have to get him to look at your neon thong first,” Jennifer said.
The door opened again just as I was regretting pouring that wine down the drain. In order to enjoy this kind of crazy talk, I needed another drink to get on their level.
“Dear Lord, she's beautiful!” Jennifer pointed at the door with one hand and covered her mouth with the other like she was about to cry.
I turned to catch Scarlet gliding into the room in her rose-colored dress. The dress was breathtaking on Scarlet. The neckline dipped down her chest and she was all neck and brown skin beneath a soft rose lace fringe. She looked like the angels of little girls' dreams. Happy and soft. Pink. Krista was carrying the train behind her.
Everyone rushed over to kiss her and get a hug, but Krista held them back.
“No touching the bride,” she said. “And please don't make her cry.”
“Ohh!” they sighed, giving her air hugs.
And it was too late. Scarlet was already tearing up.
Krista let one of the hotel waitresses in with a platter holding sippy cups of black coffeeâmy way of avoiding potential spills. She started handing them out to distract the party from going all gushy over the bride. My girl Krista had learned so much from me. Made me proud to watch her work.
“Rachel! You're here!” Scarlet whined in the way only the bride can on her special day.
“Of course I am,” I said and to my ears my voice sounded so detached. Like everything that had happened last night at the pier was being translated from those four words. “Why . . . why would you think I'd be anywhere else?”
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