Page 3 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
Celene found the designated Vale family table blessedly empty, littered with half-empty glasses, gift bags, and cake plates. Clearing her parched throat, she sat, scoping out the ballroom. Amidst the festive lights, snippets of cheerful conversations, and screeching from children smacking balloons, Celene zeroed in on her ex-fiancée, Quinn. Quinn and her girlfriend, entwined by the arm, ordering at the bar.
A year ago, Celene could’ve spit fire when Elise casually asked if she knew Quinn’s new address to send a wedding invitation. Quinn had gotten along well enough with Elise during the two-year relationship with Celene, but their association post-breakup had been cordial at best.
Then, Celene remembered her sister. This wedding was more than an exchange of rings and culture—it was a show, and everyone needed to see Elise shine.
Nadine – 9:05 pm
Have you talked to Quinn again?
Celene unwedged her numb feet from her heels beneath the tablecloth, propping them on the bottom bar of her chair. She and Quinn briefly greeted each other yesterday afternoon, right after brunch. It’d been the first time they’d spoken since they met up last year, when Quinn hand-delivered her RSVP to Elise’s wedding. She’d apologized for breaking Celene’s heart and trust and, most scathingly, her sense of security.
Celene – 9:11 pm
What more is there to say?
Nadine – 9:14 pm
I don’t even know. My ex-gfs disappear forever and I love it.
Nadine had been work-summoned early that morning to fill in for her mother, who’d come down with a migraine. Midway through asking about that, the conversation Celene may or may not have initiated found her first.
“Hi, Celene.” Quinn Archer waved with the hand not holding a cocktail, as hesitantly as expected. “Mind if we sit?”
Ramona, the girlfriend, materialized on Celene’s other side. This didn’t give interrogation vibes, fortunately. “We brought a ‘Couple’s Caipirinha’ and a water. Whatever you don’t want, I’ll drink.”
For a second longer than what was probably comfortable, she eyed Ramona. Doe eyes, lush hair. A smile too brazen for Celene’s tastes, but genial. Truthfully, they were a stunning couple in their tasteful dresses—both willowy and tall like they’d been cast for an advertisement. Celene lifted a hand, replying, “I’ll take the alcohol, thanks.”
They used this as a cue to claim chairs, too, where Ramona blabbered immediately about how “fucking cool” these two days had been.
The bartender had a generous hand. A bit heavy with the cachaça. Celene stifled a satisfied shiver as Ramona yammered. She must’ve fired off two references that Celene couldn’t identify.
Celene and Quinn’s apartment had been what she’d consider ideal—zen, balanced in minimalism, and quiet. A beautiful silence wrapped around the usual hum of the city.
Now, Quinn more than laughed with Ramona. Shecackled, much like Quinn’s louder, more chaotic friend Tara, who body rolled on her husband on the dance floor.
It threw Celene off. Her memory of Quinn lacked the firm clutch around Ramona’s elbow while in line for drinks.
Celene listened as well as she could over the music, promising not to come off as strong as her caipirinha. She andQuinn were once unhappy fiancées; Ramona was an innocent party. “You’ve attended six weddings in a year? God, I’m sorry.”
“We don’t mind.” Ramona’s lashes fluttered to Quinn, whose normally modest smile bloomed bright and strangely uninhibited.
“No, we really don’t,” Quinn agreed before sipping from her glass.
They were a ‘we.’
Ugh. Celene wondered when they started referring to themselves as a unit.
She turned to fully take in her ex, whose high cheekbones and calm presence pulled her hook, line, and sinker five years ago. It almost disturbed Celene how she’d grown immune to it, how those were now window dressing to a closed chapter of her past.
Celene had devoted years to self-reflection, going on solo trips to untether herself from the shadow of her failed engagement. And itworked. Not only had she released herself of the anger justified when the woman she once trusted moved across the country instead of maturely breaking up, but Quinn no longer seemed like the same person. Celene bounced a gaze between the couple, at their relaxed postures contrasting with her ramrod straight poise.
Her drink must have delayed her hearing, so Celene cut Ramona off with, “Stop. Quinn participated in a bouquet toss? When?”
Quinn rightfully blushed at a glare Celene couldn’t stoic away, elaborating, “At our friend Shay’s wedding last fall. I don’t know what came over me. She threw the bouquet and...” She imitated pushing sleeves up her bare arms. “I had to have it.”
Celene scoffed. Of all the tedious, asinine traditions, this one stunned her since Quinn and marriage seemed at odds. At least, the Quinn she’d known.
Ramona hyped her up. “Quinn came toplay. She almost took out somebody’s auntie like damn, did she train for this?”
