15- Living in the Present

This particular Sunday night couldn’t have come quick enough for the group. It was time for our weekly dinnerpy. We had skipped the previous two Sundays because of conflicting schedules, and hadn’t seen each other since we watched the Academy Awards together. But that didn’t really count as dinnerpy in our eyes. With dinnerpy, we all talked and bonded over food and stories, and we had to meet at our favorite diner. On the night of the Academy Awards we just watched TV at Mary’s apartment, and made catty remarks about the stars evening gowns and tuxedos. You could tell it had been a long time since we all saw each other because when I walked in, I saw Charlie sitting at the table by himself, drinking a soda, reading the New York Post.

“You’re here early,” I said, taking off my coat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on time to anything.”

“I couldn’t wait for tonight,” Charlie said. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

Just then, Mary walked in. A few minutes later, Nicky made her dramatic appearance, and this time, she was carrying several props: a wedding invitation, our college yearbook, and an alumni newsletter. She dropped the yearbook smack in the middle of the table, and everyone jumped at the sound. A fork on the table fell on the floor.

“Will you look at this? Will you look at this? He’s marrying Tara McBride,” Nicky said.

She pointed to the alumni newsletter, which had a picture of Wade and Tara walking on a beach, with matching white button-up shirts, and jeans. They were both barefoot, holding each other’s hands. Tara’s picture had a goatee and horns that were drawn on her head with a red marker. A pitchfork was sketched in her other hand.

Mary grabbed the newsletter.

“Who’s Tara McBride?” Mary asked.

Weeks earlier, Nicky told us how she ran into Wade at the grocery store, but she confided, she couldn’t remember who Tara McBride was. Mary and I both remembered Wade from school, but it was hard to believe he was as handsome as Nicky described.

“Let’s see what she looked like in college,” Charlie said.

Nicky turned to the Greek section in the yearbook.

“Look at this sorority picture. You see me right here?” Nicky pointed to herself. She was in the middle of the photo, sitting in the most prominent position in the front row. “Now, do you see Tara McBride?”

Mary, Charlie and I all moved in closer to the yearbook. There were 45 pretty girls, dressed in formal gowns, all projecting the same smile and image.

“I can’t pick her out,” Charlie said.

“That’s because she’s not in this picture,” Nicky said. “She didn’t even get accepted into my sorority, and I was the deciding vote.”

“Nicky, that’s horrible,” I said.

“Show us her college picture,” Charlie said.

“She’s on page 103,” Nicky said.

Mary turned to the page. Tara McBride’s photo was at the bottom left of the yearbook. Tara looked naïve and plain in the picture. Her brown eyes looked pure and innocent. She had long, straight, brown hair, and wasn’t wearing any makeup in the picture. She wore thick round glasses that didn’t flatter her thinly shaped face. Her turtle-neck sweater looked outdated, even for the 1990s. Charlie brought the photo closer to his eyes.

“I can see why you didn’t vote her in,” Charlie said. “She’s not very pretty.”

“Charlie, Nicky, you two, are horrible,” I said. “My God. Stop. Quit being so superficial.”

Nicky and Charlie were laughing at each other.

“Why are men so shallow?” Nicky said. She poked Tara’s yearbook picture with a fork. “And to think I have to go to her wedding. I can’t believe life is dealing me this hand.”

Nicky played with the diamond pendant around her neck. Mary and Elsa rubbed her back, and assured Nicky her turn down the aisle would come. That’s when Charlie pulled out a box of shoes.

“I need someone to take these shoes back for me,” he said, unaware of his poor timing. No one grabbed the shoe box, so he handed it to me.

“They’re a man’s pair of tennis shoes,” Charlie said. “Don’t worry, I didn’t wear them. The receipt is in the bag.”

“Pardon my curiosity, but since you’ve just volunteered my services, why do I have to take back the shoes? Why can’t you?” I asked.

I put Charlie’s shoe box under the table.

“I bought them from a really hot woman, but I can’t afford them. I don’t want to take them back myself because then the girl is going to think I’m a cheapskate.”

“Like you are?” Nicky said. “She might as well get to know the real you now. And since when did you start caring what girls thought of you?”

“I’m going out with her next week,” he said.

“Sounds like true love in the making.” Nicky rolled her eyes.

“Hey, I’m a passionate guy. I can’t help having these feelings for women,” Charlie said. “I really do care about this girl. I have strong feelings for her. We’re,” Charlie brought his hand up to his chin as he tried to think of the correct word. “We’re connected.”

“Oh my God.” Nicky said it in a slow cadence. “And next week, I bet you’ll feel connected to another girl. And the following week, another girl. What is it with you men? The very sight of a bra strap makes you lose focus. Why can’t you just grow up and commit?”

Nicky got up and walked to the restroom. After she walked away, Charlie looked at the girls.

“Why is she so mad? Can you pass me the sugar?”

“Well, I have some good news,” I said. “I met a guy and I really like him.”

The group, minus Nicky, was shocked. I never talked about my feelings involving men. Somehow I always became the supporter and ear, rather than the voice expressing any desire for love. They begged me to tell them more, but I insisted on waiting for Nicky.

When Nicky arrived, I told the entire story –how Larry and I met by chance, how Charlie played a role by giving me the wrong address to the bar, how we shared a kindred artistic background, how he was handsome, how we first kissed. And when I was finished telling the entire story, Nicky got up and gave me a big hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” Nicky said. “You of all people deserve this. You deserve a good man.”

Mary also got up and gave me a hug. Charlie watched from his seat and sipped his coffee.

“When do we get to meet Mr. Elsa?” Mary asked.

“How about tomorrow?” Charlie asked.

“No, we can’t do tomorrow,” Mary said. “Some people make plans more than one day in advance, Charlie.”

“Not you people,” Charlie said. “I bet none of you has anything to do.”

“Not true,” Mary said. “William and I are going to paint the kitchen.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Nicky said. “I don’t have any plans. Oh, wait, I have to pick up my dry cleaning.”

“How about we do Friday,” I said. “I’ll talk to Larry. We can make a night of it.”

It sounded good, and we all agreed to meet at Mary’s apartment at 8pm.

“You do know everyone is going to scrutinize him. Who is good enough for Elsa?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, he better have a thick skin because we are all going to put him under the microscope,” Nicky said.

“Oh, I’ll bring Lyndsay, the girl I’m dating now,” Charlie said. “You all can meet her too. You’re going to love her. I just know it.”

Nicky chuckled under her breath. Mary winked at Nicky.

“We can’t wait to meet her,” Mary said.

“Go easy on her. This one could be the one for me,” Charlie said.

“Oh, don’t worry Charlie. I’m sure we’ll all be easy on her,” Mary said.

“We’ll also try not to get too attached,” Nicky said.