Remember Me (38 page)

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“I’ll be damned,” I said to no one in particular. I slammed the rest of my drink and raised my glass to the bartender.

He snickered as he set the next one down in front of me,

“Don’t know if you could be a prettier shade of red. I believe she was marking her territory,” and he laughed voraciously.

I couldn’t help myself, laughing along with him and saying,

“I just posted the, “No Hunting” signs, hopefully that will chase her off.”

“Doubt it!”

“Me too. But hey, I’ll be prepared for her trespassing next time!”

“That drink’s on the house; I couldn’t have asked for better entertainment.”

“Thanks,” I responded. There was the sound of some kind

of commotion taking place just outside of the entryway to the bar. The wedding pictures must have been over, because many of the relatives and wedding guests were making their way down the hall and towards the reception hall. I grabbed my drink, nodded to the bartender and followed suit. I stopped in my tracks and then backtracked. I took out my wallet and threw a twenty on the bar.

The reception area was set up to handle three hundred

guests and the wedding party. The Bride and Groom table was along the wall to my left as I entered. At the far end of the hall were the dance floor and a secondary bar. Immediately to my right were the gift table and wedding cake table. The rest of the hall was dotted with the guest tables. I noticed Stebben and his date sitting at one of the tables closest to the dance floor, or maybe it was a table closest to the bar. I headed for them.

I walked past Kathleen. She was sitting at a table with two men whom I didn’t know. She didn’t even bat an eye at me.

Hopefully, she had chosen a new hunting ground to stakeout.

Stebben was drinking a draft beer. I spied the keg next to the S 285 S

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bar by the dance floor. The girl he was with didn’t fit with my image of him. She was elegant in contrast to his nerdiness. He introduced her as Elaina. She was drinking a glass of red wine and my thought was, “what money can buy.” Her eyes perked up when Stebben introduced her to me.

After the free “Hmm exam”, she passed on her judgment

of me by saying, “Nice to meet you Peter, Stebben speaks extremely highly of you.”

I didn’t want to come off low on the manner totem pole

so I answered in kind, “You too.” She smiled at me. After we shook hands, I sat down next to Stebben. Her grip was firm and warm. I liked her. We shared casual conversation amongst ourselves as the tables began filling up with the wedding guests. Elaina was an English Professor at Oklahoma State. The more we talked, the more I could see how the two of them fit together.

Our table filled up with a couple from Kansas and Christine, a single lady from near Chicago. She introduced herself to all of us as a friend of Sarah Martin, Amy’s mother. She was genuinely pretty, and I guessed her to be around my age. She sat right across from me, and every so often I couldn’t help but notice her glancing at me. Each time I did, she would smile and look towards someone else. During the next hour, the conversation at our table continued while the volume steadily rose to compete with all the chatter around us. Christine, my flirtatious dinner companion, never ordered a drink, settling for iced-tea instead. I offered to get her something as I headed to the bar for another gin and tonic.

“I’ll wait, but thank you anyway,” she said, “I’ll have a glass of wine when they serve dinner. If I drink more than one glass, I get tipsy.” I wondered if the last part of her comment was offered for my benefit. I took it as one of those playful signals that interested men and women give each other.

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Smiling, I said, “Let me know when you’re ready and I will be glad to go and get you one.”

“Thank you, I will.”

The crowd let out a cheer, and I turned to watch the bridal party enter the reception. They were all smiles and completely oblivious to the rest of us. I couldn’t help it, but my heart sank as that sudden feeling of loss hit me again. It was a perfect time to get my drink. I made my way to the line at the bar. I chastised myself. If I didn’t slow down it was going to be a rocky night and even more unbearable morning. When it came my

turn to order, my conscience took over and I asked for a Diet Pepsi. Christine gave me an appraising glance when I sat back down. I gave her a genuine smile in return.

After the wedding party was seated and served, the rest

of us started to receive our plates of roasted pork tenderloins, baby potatoes seasoned with chives and assorted spices, and a vegetable medley. It was delicious and I devoured mine in no time. The waitress brought water and rolls. The gentleman from Kansas took three rolls on the first pass, and then held up the basket so the girl assigned to our table could bring us some more. I was glad he was the last in line at our table and not the first.

Many times during the meal, someone would ping their

glass until the rest of us would join in. Tom and Amy obliged the signal and shared a kiss. Every time they did I looked away.

With the meal over for the wedding party, they began making toasts. A bottle of champaign had been placed on each table.

We saluted the toasts of the best man and bridesmaid. When it came time for Amy and Tom to offer their toast, my heart just couldn’t bear it.

I really didn’t care what they might think of me. I excused myself by saying, “I’m sorry, I just can’t wait any longer,” and then made my hasty escape. With our table being at the back S 287 S

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of the room, it made it easy to slip out the side door. Not only did I get a funny look from Stebben, but Christine furrowed her brow at me as well. I could feel Amy’s eyes on my back also. I didn’t turn around…I couldn’t. After stopping at the bathroom, I stayed in the hall until I heard everyone beginning to talk amongst themselves again. I stopped by the bar and this time I got another drink. The food had done wonders for me, and after taking a break from the festivities, I felt back in control. I sat down in my spot and joined in our table’s conversation. When I was ready—I looked up at Amy.

She was occupied in conversation with Tom, but for some

reason she glanced my way. She gave me a stern look. It was a motherly scolding look, “Bad boy.”

I tried to smile reassuringly. I don’t think I succeeded in making it look presentable enough, because she narrowed her eyes at me. She broke her stare and then turned back to Tom.

I made it through the gifts and the cutting of the wedding cake without any other glaring moments. At nine o’clock sharp the band began to play. Tom and Amy made their way on to the dance floor as the band began to play Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away.” Camera flashes abounded, and many people stood

around the dance floor just to take their pictures.

I stayed seated at the table, popping wedding mints like popcorn. Others soon joined the happy couple on the dance floor once they finished their first dance together. The band played another slow song to keep the romantic mood in place.

When the music turned upbeat, Stebben and Elaina made

their way to the dance floor and disappeared into the growing swarm. Even the couple from Kansas left, leaving just Christine and me at the table. Conversation was now impossible, and all we could do was look at each other. I was hoping for a place to hide and dreaming of sneaking off to the solitude of my hotel room. I saw hopefulness in Christine’s eyes, however, so S 288 S

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I played the role of gentleman knight and asked her to dance.

She was graceful and full of life on the dance floor. I sadly cursed my two left feet. It didn’t stop her from having a good time with me. When the first slow song started, she threw her arms around my neck without hesitation, before I could think about escaping. It had been so long since I was this close to anyone. She felt so good and smelled even better. I gave in and let her essence surround me. For a while my life relaxed, and I found myself truly enjoying Christine’s company. We took a break and when we sat back down at the table she took the chair where Stebben had been sitting so she could sit next to me. I sensed her before she even spoke. Amy came up from behind me, as I heard the faint rustle of her dress. Amy placed both hands on my shoulders and leaned into my ear. Her

hands instantly sent the familiar waves of electricity through me. When she pressed against me from behind, all thoughts of Christine quickly evaporated. “Come dance with the bride, Peter,” she whispered softly into my ear.

Christine smiled, and I told her that I would be right back.

I let Amy lead me out and on to the dance floor. The sea of people parted as we maneuvered through them. I was lost in a fog of emotion and disorder. My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest. I wanted to turn and run away, back to the safety of my table. I wanted to take her in my arms and never let her go. I wanted to hang on to her so she’d never be left without me ever again. Instead, she held on to my hand and pulled me along. Her fingers were entwined within mine.

It was so natural and so familiar. I became lost in the moment as the room dimmed around me. I was only cognizant of Amy.

She continued to hold my hand as she pivoted towards me.

She placed her other hand on my shoulder and instinctively I put mine on her waist. I lost myself in her eyes and in the S 289 S

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memories of another wedding. I saw my Amy, felt my Amy,

and loved my Amy. The band played Debbie Boone’s “You Light up My Life.” We moved fluently together and the special connection we shared pulled at my heart. Before I could stop my mouth from saying what was surging throughout my body and brain, I blurted out, “I love you…”

“I love you too, Peter,” she said in reply, and then instantly stopped moving to the music. It was the moment of no return.

It couldn’t be undone for either of us. She fully comprehended what my words had really meant, and then had to face the fact that she had so easily said the same to me.

I’d longed to hear those words again. I’d dreamed them,

needed them, but hearing the name Peter at the end snapped me back to reality in a hurry. I said what I did not want to say, nor what I believed; “I hope you and Tom have a wonderful life together.”

My comment only made it marginally better. She gave me

a wan little smile, her eyes searching mine for the truth. She didn’t know if my testament of love was said as a father would for his daughter, or if there was a much deeper meaning in it.

She would never let me know if her response had been anything other than reactionary and friendly. Maybe she didn’t know herself. We continued to dance, the moment and emotion fading between us. The comfort was gone too. When it finished we clapped, and she kissed me on the cheek before walking away.

Christine had watched the two of us on the dance floor. It was very easy to read the expression on her face. It wasn’t disgust, though I felt disgusted in myself. It was more like a look of disbelief. I didn’t care to find out what she really thought.

As far as I was concerned, our time together had come to an end, and so had my night. I walked past Christine and out of the reception hall. I was in no mood to stay or drink. The last S 290 S

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thing I wanted was to spend the night analyzing myself and our words to each other. I just wanted to fall into bed and sleep. In the lobby, I pushed the button to call the elevator and when the door opened, I stepped in. The door had nearly closed when they popped open again. Standing in front of me was the one person I really didn’t want to contend with—Kathleen. She entered the elevator—the huntress cornering her prey. I had nowhere to hide. My self-loathing was now sufficiently low enough, and the night could not become any worse than it already had, so I conceded. As the elevator doors closed with a sucking sound, I thought silently to myself, “What the hell.”

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All about “Family.”

May 21st, 1990

Happy birthday to
me! I received exactly two cards in the mail. The people who knew Peter Warren might wonder why

he received those birthday cards when his birthday wasn’t for four months. Both of my cards were addressed to Peter.

One was from my parents and the other one was from Stacy.

Neither of them was officially signed other than with an S on one and N & L on the other. There was no return address. Both of them had been postmarked in cities other than where I knew they lived. In the last year, Stacy had given up her practice in New Mexico and moved back to Iowa. She now lived in Des

Moines and worked solely as our corporate lawyer. That isn’t quite right; it was the appearance of only working for E.M.J.

In truth she had her plate full. The one thing I never conveyed to her was what she had given up. That first day when she saw me, she had asked me several times about her future. Over the last couple of years, she never broached the subject with me. I added the loss of her son and my nephew, Alexander, to my list of ever growing guilt’s. She would never know the difference, but I always would.

I had really been hoping this day would be arriving later and not today. In less than forty minutes, I will be sitting in the office of J.W. Winslow. For the most part, he is known only as a shrewd businessman in the Chicago area. I know differently, his reach extends mostly throughout the Midwest.

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He has firm connections in several other states and a dozen foreign countries. At sixty-seven years young, he is full of vitality and intelligence. He is also the anonymous head of the Chicago “Family.” Four days ago I had been summoned to appear at J.W. Winslow’s office. My invitation came personally from C.J. Even though it had been extended as an invitation to be the “Family’s” guest in Chicago, I knew it for what it really was. The time had finally come for new negotiations, or more likely, “do as we say” ultimatums.