The Truth Is a Theory Read online

  “Your brother Kevin was adorable,” Megan said. “He was watching out for me last night. The whole time I was talking to Neal, he kept walking by and giving me this ‘you okay?’ look, like if I needed an out to just let him know.”

  “Did you? Need an out, I mean.”

  “Actually not at all. Neal was really sweet; cute in a Richie Cunningham way. I’ve never spent much time with him one-on-one. We had a good time together.”

  “He’s a great guy. Of all Dana’s Princeton friends, I like Neal the best,” Allie said, wondering how Megan would take what she was going to say next. “Dana says that he’s had a crush on you for a while.”

  “Really?” Megan smiled. “Interesting.”

  Allie, bolstered by Megan’s smile and lukewarm reaction, continued, “I think that Kevin may have a crush on you too. He’s taken the best-man/maid-of-honor thing to heart, like you guys are mandated to be a couple now.” Allie lightly splashed Megan. “You’re the belle of the ball.”

  “I hardly think so.” She took a deep breath. “All right, it’s now or never.” She let herself fall into the cold pool.

  ————

  A few hours later, Allie, Megan, Tess, Zoe, and Dana’s three younger sisters were secreted away in a suite that Sharon had reserved for the bride’s preparations. Crystal, Sharon’s hairstylist, was waiting with suitcases of colorful pots and cases when they all trooped in at two o’clock, three hours before the ceremony. At three, Sharon bustled in with chilled champagne and a platter of cheese and crackers, which she instructed all the girls to eat. “I don’t want anyone to faint in the church.” The girls snubbed the food, not wanting cheese on their breath or congealing in their stomach (and maybe making it bigger), but everyone grabbed a glass. The champagne was like cold flutes of giggles.

  “So where are we?” Sharon said as she surveyed the seven young ladies fluttering around the room in various stages of dress. She walked over to Allie; Crystal was piling her long brown hair up into a romantic twist.

  “You look beautiful,” Sharon said as she tucked a stray piece of Allie’s hair up into the coil.

  The girls all grabbed their cameras; six clicks captured the moment. Seconds later they were back to chatting and zipping each other up in their long navy dresses.

  “The navy really looks good,” Sharon announced to the room.

  “I still wish it had sleeves,” Dana’s sister Julia said. “My arms look fat.”

  Sharon glowered at her.

  “But I love the length,” Julia said as she skulked away from her mother.

  Allie peeked at Sharon in her long, form-fitting black dress, and concluded once again that it was her confidence that made her so striking. Her shoulder-length blond hair was swept back off her face; she didn’t hide behind bangs or wisps of distraction. Her face was chiseled, her chin never dipped down in despair. Her brown eyes—Dana’s eyes—softened her; they were warm with gold flecks of kindness. Allie hoped she looked that good when she was Sharon’s age.

  Sharon turned to Allie. “Ready for the dress?”

  Allie smiled and stood up.

  Megan carried the dress over and held it open while Allie stepped into it. Then Megan and Sharon pulled it up in a rush of rustling tulle and silk. Allie shivered, and for a moment couldn’t catch her breath. Cameras clicked, the room almost broke out into applause. Megan zipped her up, and then began the task of buttoning all the tiny buttons over the zipper.

  “Dana’s going to have fun with these.” Megan smirked, and then glanced at Sharon.

  “Oh Megan, I’m not that old,” Sharon said.

  Six girls bustled around Allie, fluffing and spreading out her snow white skirt, while Crystal wove the last of the flowers into Allie’s hair and touched up her minimal makeup. Allie stood in the middle of it all, radiating happiness out of every pore, casting a golden glow over the room.

  When the last of the primping was done, Sharon stepped towards her with a Tiffany box. “I’d be honored if you would wear this.” She lifted a pearl choker out of the white silk lining. “I wore it on my wedding day,” she smiled over her shoulder at Megan, “not so long ago.”

  Allie couldn’t speak; she was afraid her heart would soar out of her body and fly away. The only noise in the room was the click of cameras as they hugged and Sharon clasped the pearls around Allie’s neck. The stones felt cold and smooth against her skin, and their weight grounded her, held her in the moment.

  “I think I’m ready.” Her voice wobbled.

  She studied herself in the full-length mirror. Her sleeveless dress was simple and elegant—a fitted bodice, a big cloud of skirt. Other than a band of tiny white silk roses around the skirt waist, the nubby silk of the fabric was the dress’ only adornment. Her green eyes sparkled out from her clear, tan face.

  A wave of melancholy swept through Allie, and in a room full of people, she suddenly felt alone. Even her reflection had momentarily abandoned her. Does my mom know I’m getting married today? Wherever she is, does she have a solemn feeling, a feeling that today is important?

  Megan appeared behind her and handed her a tissue. “Don’t. It’ll ruin your makeup.”

  “I wish she could see me.” She still nursed a flicker of hope that somehow, Eva might show up.

  Megan gave her a squeeze. “You’d take her breath away.”

  Allie dabbed at her eyes and willed herself back to the effervescence of the room. All of the girls were now dressed and milling around like sheep corralled in a pen, refusing to sit for fear of wrinkling. As the clocked ticked closer to five, the mirror—even more than the bride—became the primary focus of the room, and restless chatter propelled the girls back and forth in front of it.

  Finally, Sharon announced that it was time to go and herded them through the door. Allie, Megan, Tess, and Zoe maneuvered their way into a shiny black limousine, finally forced to sit. Sharon and her three daughters piled into a second black chariot. And away they flew.

  ————

  Dana stood in the bathroom with his best friend Neal, fumbling with the strip of black fabric that was supposed to twist somehow and become a bow tie. His hair was wet, his face was smooth, his cummerbund was buckled, but damn this bow tie! Exasperated, he gave up and leaned on the bathroom sink with both hands.

  Since the moment he’d opened his eyes this morning, his space—personal and otherwise—had been invaded by doting family and friends, all hovering around him underneath a large tent of prattling anticipation. He glided through the late morning brunch and touch football game on autopilot, but he hadn’t had a minute to breathe, to think. Maybe that was the point.

  “What’s going on?” Neal said.

  Dana stared at himself in the mirror. “I’m about to get married.”

  Neal started to smile, then paused. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  Dana closed his eyes.

  Allie. He had loved her from minute one, as if he had an epiphany when they met, when she had quite literally fallen into his blueprinted life, and by instinct he had caught her. As he helped her regain her balance, her green eyes had looked up at him and underneath her long lashes and giggling “Sorry” he had glimpsed a haunted, anguished shadow that didn’t coincide with the smirking, warm girl he held in his arms. He had the desire to reach down and wipe her tears away, although there were no tears on her face.

  With that passing soulful gaze, Allie had opened up a space in his heart that he hadn’t even known was there. And as she sashayed away from him with her long hair streaming down her back and a peek back over her shoulder, he felt tied to her; and not just because of the sexual chemistry, although there was most definitely that. For the rest of the night, he caught himself searching for her, visually checking to see who she was talking to and whether she was still smiling, laughing. She found his eyes each time, and as they connected over the clamor o
f the party, it was as if they had found a spot that was still, that was omniscient in its certitude. In the silence, without a word, they were bound.

  Dana opened his eyes. “Do you remember Christine?” His words were heavy; they fell through the air like stones.

  Neal closed the toilet seat and sat down. He spoke slowly. “The blonde, senior year at Princeton?”

  Dana was staring into the sink. “She was smart. Not so fun though.”

  Neal watched Dana, waited.

  “And Lindsay?” Dana said.

  “The girl you dated a year or so ago. The girl with the big…” Neal cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  “Pretty sexy. But out of bed… well, she was good in bed.”

  “Dana.” Neal snuck a glance at his watch.

  “I’ve dated all these girls, and none, not one of them compares to Allie. Both in who she is and in how she makes me feel.” Dana turned around and looked at his friend. “She’s always been it for me. She’s home.”

  He leaned back against the counter. “When she called me last year? Everyone warned me, don’t do it, don’t get back with her, she broke your heart. And I didn’t, not at first. But I knew I would.”

  Neal waited.

  Dana ran his hand through his hair. “What am I doing? I’m only 24.”

  Neal leaned towards Dana. “I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you waver. About anything. You know what you want and you put in the sweat. Hey, when the coach implied—merely hinted, mind you—that we needed more finesse out on the field, you suggested ballet. Everyone laughed it off as a good joke, but God love you, I think you were actually ready to humiliate yourself to get better.” Neal smiled. “It’s freakish really, you’re like the poster boy for Hard Work Pays Off.” He paused, and held Dana’s eyes. “And always, always, you’ve been in love with Allie. I don’t think that’s going to change.”

  “But I pushed her, I was full steam ahead. And I’m not so sure she was really ready.”

  “Yeah, you can be a freight train.”

  “Sometimes I get this feeling that she wants something from me, and Oh God, I have no idea what it is. I’m not even sure she knows. But it hovers between us, this unspoken way that I’m not quite getting it right, that I’m failing her.” He looked at his friend. “She’s had so much chaos in her life, I just try to be solid, you know? I try to keep the noise to a minimum and to keep us moving forward.” He smiled weakly. “Okay, so maybe like a freight train.”

  The room was quiet.

  “Did I just propose to her so that I could hold onto her?”

  “No. You proposed to her because you love her. And she said yes because she loves you back.” Neal stood up. “She’s said no to you before pal, she’s not afraid to say it.”

  Dana nodded.

  “She’s going to walk down that aisle—smart, sexy, and fun—and you’re going to be standing there waiting for her in this monkey suit. And you, and Allie, and the whole damn church is going to know, going to feel, that this is right.”

  Dana looked at Neal gratefully.

  “It’s called cold feet, buddy.” Neal smacked him on the back. Then he reached for Dana’s bow tie and slapped it into Dana’s hand. “Now get this on. You’ve got a date.”

  ————

  The lavish reception, like all wedding receptions, was the stage for many mini-dramas set against the confetti of the newly minted couple. As Mr. and Mrs. Dana Sexton dutifully made their rounds, the bridesmaids—having taken the requisite snapshots of the bride and groom—put down their cameras and their formal duties and skipped out into the celebration to pose for their own memories.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  Megan smiled as she put her hand in Neal’s and let him pull her out of her seat and onto the dance floor. Then she full out laughed when Neal started waving his arms and his body around in exaggerated, spastic movements.

  “I can’t dance,” he said. “So I just want to lower all expectations right now.”

  “Okay, okay. They’re lowered.” Megan reached over and put her hands on his arms to bring them back down his side.

  Neal grinned. “And don’t think I’m intimidated by tall women.”

  “I’m actually not that tall.” Megan’s eyes twinkled.

  “Shhh. It helps my little man complex to think you’re super tall.”

  “I could take off my heels.”

  “No way. You look beautiful.”

  Megan blushed. And then realized she didn’t feel an icy rush of panic, a need to punch and run. Amazing. Her shoulders settled onto her back and she shimmied with ease on the polished floor.

  “So you’re a copywriter,” Neal said.

  “Junior copywriter.” Megan beamed. She loved her job.

  “And Dana tells me you’re a runner.”

  “It’s how I stay sane.” Running had been her religion—and her vengeance—over the past two years, and she ran every day, no exceptions. She either woke up at dawn to get on the treadmill or left her office at five to sprint through the park for an hour before returning to work, sweaty and glowing, to finish her day. She was invincible and powerful as she pounded past the pedestrians on the busy streets or along the FDR, and she pushed herself to go faster and farther, not satisfied until she was floating above the pavement in a godlike high, her whole world distilled down to the rhythm of her music, her feet, her breath. “Do you run? I know you used to play lacrosse.”

  “Not regularly, I’m more of a weekend warrior.” He paused. “It sounds like our friends have been whispering our bios to each other.”

  Megan nodded. Allie had raved about Neal, telling her, “What you see is what you get.” And so far, Megan liked what she saw. More importantly, she felt safe with this friend of Dana’s. She looked around the room, at her friends who were giving her the thumbs up with their eyes. And this time, she wasn’t agitated by their shaking pom-poms on the sidelines—“Go team go! Get your man!”

  I may not get my man; I may not want this man. But at least I feel like it’s up to me.

  ————

  Over at the bar, one of the cheerleaders leaned against Gavin as visions of her own wedding danced through her head. While Gavin ordered a beer and a glass of chardonnay, Tess played, stopped, and rewound her well-worn video, editing the scenes as she guessed at Gavin’s preferences. They had never discussed their own wedding; their future togetherness just seemed a fait accompli, referenced off-handedly like an indeterminate, but anticipated inheritance. As yet however, the wedding itself, and its inherent commitment, was free-floating in Tess’s imagination. A big red balloon that was bumping along the ceiling, just out of reach.

  Throughout Allie’s ceremony, Tess—up on the altar with the other bridesmaids—could not keep her eyes or her mind from wandering down into the pews, down to Gavin, who was sitting serenely in his navy suit, his legs spread apart a little, his hands clasped loosely between them. He looked comfortable, both in his suit and on the hard bench, but then, Gavin would be comfortable wearing boxers in a blizzard. His blond hair was freshly cut, and it lay so straight the scissor marks were still sharply etched in the boyish style. Her eyes swept over the deep cleft in his chin—an exclamation point on his sexiness—and she longed to run her finger over the baby-smooth dip and on up to his mouth. Even in church, where he was restrained from breaking into his wildly enthusiastic grin, his mouth was prepped for it, turned up at the corners in an amused smirk, chomping at the bit for the tiniest of life’s tickles to swing it into full gear.

  She beamed at Gavin as he handed her a glass of wine. “After three days on the beach, it’s weird to be back in the thick of it, isn’t it?”

  “I’m all for making a run for it. We could be back on the beach in a couple of hours.” He raised his eyebrows.

  She swatted him.

  “I’m j
oking,” he said. “I promise to have fun.”

  Tess had surprised Gavin, and herself, by planning a three-day getaway on Cape Cod before the wedding. The lazy days at the ocean and the sensuous nights in their canopy bed had been nirvana, and she had considered, just for a second, skipping Allie’s wedding so that they could hole up a little longer.

  For three days, Gavin had been sweet, loving, and best of all, attentive. When they were back in the city, there were so many distractions; a quarter of Gavin’s energy was focused on her, while the rest of him was buzzing over her head, puzzling something left back at his desk, plotting tomorrow’s big move, or scanning the bar for friends, co-workers, new connections. In New York he was permanently plugged into the supercharged atmosphere, and until he was out from under its fluorescence, he couldn’t turn himself off. It wasn’t a big deal, that was Gavin. But once in a while, it was nice to have all that wattage shining on her.

  “Gavin?” A woman in a short red dress grabbed his arm.

  “Beth, wow.” Gavin leaned over with flourish and kissed her on the cheek. “Tess, have you met Beth? We worked together when I first moved to New York.”

  “Hi.” Tess had never met this brunette, she would have remembered. She laced her fingers through Gavin’s.

  “You look great,” Gavin said to Beth. “How do you know Allie?” His gaze was on Beth’s face; Tess was hyper-aware of the red silk body underneath.

  “I don’t. I went to Princeton with Dana.”

  “I forgot you went to Princeton.” He grinned. “So we’re on different sides of the aisle.”

  Tess heard the unspoken now loud and clear.

  “You’re friends with the bride?” Beth asked Gavin.

  Is my bridesmaid dress invisible? Tess ran her free hand through her just-lightened blond hair. “We went to college with Allie,” she answered for Gavin. “But Gavin didn’t really know her until we started going out, what, three years ago?” She looked at Gavin. “And then you know how that goes, he’s got a whole pack of insta-friends.”