Champagne Toast (35 page)

“
I actually have an art show coming up at the Blue Door Gallery and I
—”

“Seriously?  Blue Door?  Wow,”
he says, looking impressed.

“What?”

“
Well, my wife, um,
ex-wife
, is a caterer and she used to have jobs at Blue Door, art shows, weddings and such.
They
’
re big tim
e over there.  Congratulations.”

“Thanks,”
I smile.

“Do you have shows there often?”
he presses.

“No, this is my first,”
I say, my pulse speeding up.  Big time?  Like I needed more pressure on top of
pressure.  “
To be honest, I
’
m struggling to find inspiration for the show.  I
’
m not sure what to present
and nothing seems good enough.”

“
Present what you love,
”
he suggests, making it sound so simple.  But, what do I love?  I hate my job, I don
’
t have a real family and I doubt anyone w
ants to see pictures of my dark
room.

“
Thanks, I
’
ll keep that in mind.  It was nice meeting you, um
—”

“Nathaniel,”
he says, standing up to shake my hand, just as a tiny little brunette with a head full of knotted curls runs past me and climbs into his lap.  She gives him a sweet peck on the cheek
,
and he smiles warmly at her. It
’
s time for me to go.

“
Thanks, Nathaniel.  I
’
d better head home.
I
’
ve gone through several roles of film.  Time to see if I got anything worth show
ing.”

“
No problem, um
—”

“Kate,”
I say, shrugging my shoulders, feeling like the impolite person that I usually am.

“
Kate, good luck with your show
.” 
He smiles warmly before sitting back down on the bench and resting his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose.

Slowly, I walk back to my apartment, thinking of his words which play on repeat in my head, over and over and over again.

Present what you love.

Present what you love.

Present what you love.

As I
’
m walking up the stairs, I realize what I need to present.  The idea comes rushing at me so fast, I can hardly keep up with my thoughts and I begin to race up the stairs. Running to my door, bursting into my apartment and sprinting for my small bookshelf that holds all of the photos I
’
ve ever taken, I know exactly what I want to do.

Quickly, I remove the photo boxes from the shelf. 

2008

2009

2010

Present what you love
. . .

Carefully, I open the first box, smiling to myself as I remove picture after picture after picture.  A stack starts to grow as I place pictures from 2008, pictures from 2009 and pictures of 2010
. . .
before our world fell apart.  In the end I have at least 100 photos of what I love. 

Evan.

I sit back, surrounded by photos of the man I love, surrounded by what feels like a thousand of his faces, all making different expressions.  Happiness, concern, desire, astonishment, anguish, elation, longing and so many more.  He is my muse.  He is my inspiration. 
He is what I love.

Evan

December 1, 2012

“
You look very handsome,
”
Chelsea says, straightening my bow tie.
“
I
’
d better take my seat.
”

I give her a small peck on the lips before leaving her to stand with Patrick and the other groomsman.  It
’
s the big day.
My best friend is getting married
,
and I
’
m his best man.  So far, the limousine rental has gone off without a hitch.  The bride is here, ready to make her appearance down the aisle.  And the nervous groom, who
’
s usually about twenty minutes late wherever he goes, was forced to be early because his best man was so on top of things.  As long as my toast doesn
’
t tank at dinner, I should be golden.

I
’
m not nervous about the toast; after all, I make a living talking to people every single day.  But, I am nervous about who might be watching me.  Seeing Kate today has my stomach all twisted up, little surges of adrenaline course through my veins every time I see her.  She
’
s been looming throughout the church, taking pictures of the stained glass windows and the architecture of the building.  Patrick assured me she wouldn
’
t be taking any of the bridal party pictures, but that doesn
’
t keep us from making eye contact several times.  I can
’
t stop watching her, even though I
’
m doing my best to stay focused on the groom.

“
Gentlemen,
”
the pastor says,
“
it
’
s time to get started
.” 
Nodding, we take our places in front of the church altar.

“
Here we go,
”
Patrick says with a nervous laugh.  I pat him on the back reassuringly as the organ begins to play.  Each bridesmaid takes her time walking down the aisle before Chloe makes her way, escorted by her father.  She looks stunning.  Just the sight of her in her beautiful white gown brings a sadness in me that I
’
ve been attempting to bury. 
I thought this would be Kate and me.

***

Several hours later, we take our seats at the head table, and I
’
m handed a microphone so that I can present my speech as best man.  Immediately, I start to wonder if Kate is still here.  After the ceremony, she took several pictures of Patrick and Chloe while the rest of the bridal party headed to the country club banquet hall.  Since arriving here, I
’
ve only seen her a handful of times and each time it made my heart race. 

Taking the microphone in my hand, I stand to greet the crowd.

“
Good evening
,
ladies and gentlemen.  It is my honor and privilege to stand before you tonight, representing my best friend, Patrick.  I
’
ve known Patrick since we were two eighteen-year-old kids in the dorms at Northwestern.
  We were both wide-eyed freshme
n, looking for possibilities
.  Both being undecided freshme
n, we were both open to the possibility of finding a major. Both being social guys, we were open to the possibility of forming friendships.  And finally, both single, we were open to the possibility of finding love.

Patrick was lucky enough to find love our junior year when he was paired up with a certain girl named Chloe in his biology class.
She was assigned to be his lab partner, and he
’
d visit me at work, yammering on and on and on about how this girl was driving him crazy.  He couldn
’
t get her out of his head
.” 
I smile at the crowd as I hear chuckles throughout the room, mainly from Patrick
’s family.  “
He wasn
’
t sure if dating her would be a smart move.  But, he was convinced to go for it, knowing that if she liked him as much as he liked her, the possibilities would be endless.

That
’s the thing about love —
it
’
s full of possibilities.  It can lead you down so many different paths.  Sure, for some of us, it can lead to sadness and regret.
But, for others, well, for others it can lead them to the greatest future they could
’
ve ever hoped for.  Love is the most possible thing in the world.  And I
’
m so glad that Chloe and Patrick were both open to the possibility of finding someone at a simple table in a Biology class.  Because of that
,
we
’
re all here today, toasting their future, bearing witness to their happiness.  So, here
’
s to my best friend, Patrick, and his lovely wife, Chloe, and all the possibilities that lie before them as they embark on their life together,
”
I say, raising my glass of bubbly champagne, gesturing towards the happy couple.
“
And here
’
s to love, the most possible thing in the world
.” 

Applause fills the reception area.  I smile and pat Patrick lightly on the back before taking my seat.  There are hundreds of eyes on me but only two that matter.  Is she still here?  Did she listen to my toast?

When dinner ends, I head to the bar to get a beer.  Thanking the bartender, I turn and see Kate in the hallway just a few feet from the bar.  She
’
s packing up her gear.  My heart wrangles itself into my throat and I
’
m not sure what to do.  I
’
m pretty sure I
’
ll be kicking myself if I don
’
t talk to her.  If I don
’
t, at least, say hello.  What could it hurt?  Chelsea seems to have struck up conversation with those at her table, so I know I have a few minutes.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way down the hall.

Kate glances up at me as she hears my footsteps approaching.  She looks nervous, but smiles weakly at me before focusing back on her camera, the camera I gave her years ago.

“
You
’
re still using that thing, huh?
”
I say to break the ice.  Kate smiles as she looks at the bulky device.

“
It
’
s a great camera and I couldn
’
t part with it,
”
she says, making eye contact with me briefly before picking up her tripod from the small table in front of her.

“
How are you?
”
I ask, making sure I don
’
t get too close.
I don
’
t want to make her nervous.  My adrenaline levels are off the charts. 

“
I
’
m fine, Evan
.” 
Hearing her call me by my full name stings like a bitch.  Scratching the back of my head, I search for a topic of conversation.

“
It
’
s nice to see you,
”
I say.  Pathetic.

“
Yeah, you too,
”
she says, brushing her hair away from her face.
“
Nice toast.
”

“
You heard it, then?
”
I ask, stepping closer.  I can
’
t help it.
I
’
m sucked into her orbit.  She has no idea how much power she has over me, even now after all this time.

“
Of course, I heard it.  You were holding a microphone,
”
she teases, and I see a hint of that smile that used to reduce me to a big old pile of mush.  It still does.  Kate looks me dead in the eye and continues,
“
Is that really how you feel about love?  Like it
’
s the most possible thing in the world?
”

“
I meant every word,
”
I reply, staring deeply into Kate
’
s eyes.
And it
’
s the truth.

“
Well, she
’
s very pretty, your girlfriend.  Chloe told me you were seeing someone.  Congratulations,
”
Kate says, averting her eyes once again.

“
Thanks,
”
I say softly.  Part of me wants to reassure her that Chelsea and I aren
’
t serious, that we
’
ve only been together for a few months.  That I don
’
t feel anything compared to how I felt for her.  But, what would be the point?  It wouldn
’
t change the fact that she cheated on me, or that she made me look like a complete idiot.