Page 10 of The Marriage Pact
The people Kaitlyndidknow — Rachel, Sean, their respective parents — were too busy circulating to be of any use when it came to prolonged conversation. Had Kaitlyn had a plus-one, they could at least have stood resolutely together, talkingbetween themselves. That was the advantage of a partner, and everyone else seemed to have one. Couples had formed into small groups, laughing and joking, as waistcoated servers circulated with canapés. Kaitlyn helped herself from every passing plate; the hors d’oeuvres were delicious. Another disadvantage of having no one to talk to was the speed at which a champagne flute could be emptied. Kaitlyn was sipping to avoid looking like a lost sheep. Next, she’d be scrolling through her phone.
“Kaitlyn?” A voice to her left caused her to start.
It was Alex, and he, too, appeared to be partaking in the sipping-and-eating technique.
“Oh… Alex, hi,” Kaitlyn said, feeling the blush rising in her cheeks — or was that the third glass of champagne?
“I see we’re sitting together later,” he said, smiling at her.
His smile hadn’t changed. Kaitlyn had always thought he had such a nice smile.
“You wouldn’t believe the trouble we had with that,” Kaitlyn replied. “You wouldn’t know it, but half of Rachel’s family hate one another, though they’re putting on a good show of not doing so today.”
Alex laughed. “Aren’t you glad you come from a small family?” he said.
“No family at all now. My mom died three months ago,” Kaitlyn replied.
She didn’t mean to embarrass him, but it was the truth, and there was no point in hiding it.
He blushed and apologized. “I’m sorry. I knew that… I mean, I’m so sorry,” he stammered.
Kaitlyn shook her head. “Don’t worry. She’d been ill for a while. It wasn’t unexpected. I’m still trying to sort the house out. It’s not happening quickly.”
“Your mom was always so nice to me. She used to let me stay at your house for hours after school when my mom worked at Alf’s Diner. Do you remember the night I ate five peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and was sick on the rug?”
Kaitlyndidremember. The rug had gone into the garbage. “It was quite a sight. I think I probably dared you to keep going,” Kaitlyn said, smiling at the thought of her mom’s famous peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.
She used to let Kaitlyn have them for dinner sometimes. “I’m probably a terrible mom,” she used to say.
“And what aboutyourmom? I see her around town sometimes. Did you buy her that pink convertible?” Kaitlyn asked.
Alex looked sheepish. “She chose the color. I know it looks gaudy, but she’s happy.”
“And she deserves to be. Your mom did so much for you. Just like mine. We were lucky. Neither of us had much, but we were raised by women who loved us. I think that’s why I’m finding it hard, the grief of it all, I mean. If she’d been a terrible mom, I wouldn’t feel like this, would I?”
Kaitlyn was surprised at herself with the openness she was displaying. It felt unexpectedly easy to talk to Alex, especially after she’d spent so long worrying about this very encounter. Heput her at ease. She hadn’t said anything like this to anyone. Not even Rachel.
“You’re right. Love and loss. It’s the price we pay, isn’t it? When you love someone and then lose them.”
“If they’ve loved you back,” Kaitlyn replied.
Again, she hadn’t meant to sound harsh or to guilt-trip him. She’d been talking about death, but she immediately saw how her words could be construed to their own situation, too. Alex looked embarrassed. Apologetic, even. But to Kaitlyn’s relief, the master of ceremonies called them through to the wedding breakfast, and the distraction was enough for the topic to change.
“Is Rachel still a vegetarian?” Alex whispered as they took their seats at the assigned table.
“She’s pescatarian now. I never quite saw the ethical difference between hooking a fish out of water and letting it die versus butchering a farm animal, but there you go. She obviously does. But don’t worry, there’s meat on the menu,” Kaitlyn replied.
The speeches were to come after the meal, and with wine now being poured, and the first course — a fan of melon with mozzarella and Parma ham arranged to look like flowers — served, the atmosphere was relaxed. Kaitlyn and Alex were joined by three other couples at the table, and Kaitlyn wondered — assumed — they probably thought the same about the two of them. If only they knew the truth.
“You’re in San Francisco now, aren’t you?” Alex said.
Kaitlyn looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t realized he knew anything about her, other than what he knew already from their time at high school.
“That’s right. I’ve got a studio in Haight-Ashbury. Where the hippies used to come. It’s all a bit more genteel now; the hippies got rich and settled down. Ceramics. That’s what I do.”
Alex nodded.
“I know. I… bought a few of your pieces last year. It was my EA’s fiftieth birthday. I wanted her to have something special, and I thought your work… well, I liked it. I bought a piece for myself, too. The blue and green bowl with the shimmer design, and a vase with the rock outline on it.”
