Page 57 of The River in Spring
I know what is coming, but I want to hear it from them.
“Why is that?”
“Because a guy never knows who he’s going to run into. We might meet some hot bridesmaids.”
“The bridesmaids are all over twenty-five. Don’t think you’re going to have much luck there, guys.”
I open the door and as Sam passes in front of me one eyebrow raises just like his mother’s used to.
“The blonde was looking. Maybe she wants some of this,” he says.
Their laughter and mine lifts my mood. Shit. The new generation of Lyons has already joined the game and I hardly noticed till now.
“Over here!” my father calls from the private room to the left.
The party has already started, with the bride and groom in animated conversations with their guests. Parish’s brother and sister are footing the bill but despite that, their faces are as happy as our family’s. I can tell from the way they interact the siblings share a close relationship.
It is kind of cool how people feel a different sort of joy at weddings. It’s not like it’s a new concept. We attend weddings all our lives and half of them end in divorce. Despite the fact, we act like we are just being introduced to real love. Everyone shares a collective hope. Maybe that is what has kept our species going. Denial. The feeling lives in this room right now. And this time, I believe it will last.
“Sit here!” my mother says, patting the empty seat next to her. Sam and Teddy claim the seats at the end of the rectangle table, and I slide in to mine.
“Want a cocktail?”
“No thanks. I’m saving the drinking for tomorrow. This water is good.”
A server stands next to the bride and groom, waiting for instructions.
“We’re ordering for the table. Schnitzel and sausages, there will be something for everyone. Is that okay?” Scarlett asks the guests.
There’s agreement all around and the conversations resume. My mother’s hand lands on mine and her eyebrows knit together.
“What’s happening? Why the face?”
Denial won’t work. She figured me out long ago. It’s a given we all can trust her and more than that, respect her take on things.
“It’s this Nashville thing I told you about. Well, that’s not even happening yet. It’s just a maybe.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t think distance is a good thing for a relationship.”
By the questioning look on her face, I need to be clear.
“I mean, she has a great gig here.”
“Do you mean you have a great gig here?”
As the words spilled from my mouth, I heard the weakness of my argument. My mother doesn’t say another word. She just looks with that all knowing expression waiting for me to come to the right conclusion on my own. It worked when I was ten. But it’s not that way this time. Not that easy. I wait her out.
“Listen to yourself, Nobel. First of all, who are you to choose how she navigates her career? You’re in love with the girl?”
“Yes.”
“Do you realize she’s an artist?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then treat her like one. It’s a gift. And trying to squelch it is beneath you. It’s a weak move. You’re smarter than that.”
