I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since we’d slept next to each other after the Passover Seder. Hopefully, he’d keep his mouth shut about that piece of information. Even though nothing happened, I wouldn’t want Caleb to learn about it. I needed to head him off before he said anything.
As casually as possible, I took my cell phone out of my purse to send Goldman a quick text. DON’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT PASSOVER TO ANYONE.
As luck would have it, Goldman hadn’t turned off his phone for the wedding. Nor did he turn off the ringer. Ten seconds after I hit “send,” his phone beeped. I hoped Caleb wouldn’t notice. No such luck.
Caleb leaned over and whispered in my ear. “What were you doing?”
I didn’t want to lie, but I had no choice in the matter. “I sent a text to Missy. She must have forgotten to turn off the ringer.”
Goldman took his phone out of his pocket and slowly turned his head around. I didn’t want Caleb to see, so I did the only thing I could think of to distract him. I kissed him.
Even though I kissed Caleb with my eyes closed, I could sense Goldman watching us. When I pulled away from the kiss, Goldman faced straight ahead.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me tonight. Oh God, who was I kidding? He lived to torment me.
Goldman put his arm around the woman sitting next to him. A grief-like sensation overwhelmed me as I realized Goldman brought a date to Jill’s wedding.
I didn’t want to analyze my reaction. It was probably just a symptom of my concussion.
I put my hand on Caleb’s thigh and smiled at him. He grinned back at me and mouthed the words “I love you.” I tried to mouth back “I love you too,” but I couldn’t. Instead, I blew him a kiss.
In my mind, I listed all of Caleb’s wonderful qualities, then reminded myself of all of Goldman’s negative traits. I scolded myself for even having a momentary lapse of judgment in thinking there could ever be anything between him and me.
Goldman had no place in my thoughts or in my heart.
An hour after the ceremony ended, the doors opened to the reception. As we waited for the doors of the ballroom to open, I tried to nab some of the hors d’oeuvres from the waiters who walked through the lobby. I never caught one.
I felt vaguely faint, but whether my light-headedness was due to my concussion or from lack of food, I couldn’t be certain. Either way, I needed to find my table and fast.
Caleb helped me walk into the ballroom and both of our jaws dropped at the sight of the décor. Unsatisfied with having a simple and normal reception, Jill had created her own Midsummer Night Dream here in the hotel. Thousands of twinkling lights covered seven foot tall trees placed around the room, as well as on what appeared to be bonsai trees on each table. Hundreds of stars glowed on the ceiling of the ballroom providing the illusion of the open night sky. I couldn’t decide between labeling it tacky or romantic. I settled on romantic and vowed to use it to my advantage.
We found our table near the dance floor and were not surprised to learn we’d be sitting with Seth, Emily, Missy, Adam, and his date listed on the table card as ‘and guest.‘ I guess I wasn’t the only one who brought a last minute date to the wedding.
Thank goodness the waiters brought a basket of rolls to the table while Jill and her husband, Jacob, who I’ve wickedly decided to call Jack, thanked everyone for coming to their wedding.
“Eating carbs again, Sara?” Seth made it a point of teasing me for every diet I’ve ever attempted. I gave him my usual “fuck you” face and made small talk with Emily.
Goldman and his date arrived to the table a few minutes after we began eating our salads. As I studied him and his date, I noticed her dress appeared wrinkled and her lipstick smeared.
“Everyone, this is Becca.” He made a point of looking right at me, a smug, self-satisfied expression on his face.
“Nice to meet you, Becca,” said the always cordial Caleb.
The bandleader announced everyone should join Jack and Jill on the dance floor to do the Horah. I hate the Horah. In fact, I have sworn never to dance the Horah again. The dancers hold hands and dance in a circle, usually to the song “Hava Nagila” while strong men lift the Bride and Groom on chairs as they hold a ribbon between them.
It may sound like fun, but it isn’t. First, the band always chooses the long version. I’ve been at weddings where the guests danced the Horah for thirty minutes. Why would I spend all that time to do my makeup if it’s going to melt off my face at the beginning of the reception? Why would I bother doing my hair if it’s going to frizz from sweating?
Not to mention the danger of lifting a bride on a chair six feet in the air. I’ve heard horror stories of brides sliding off of the chairs and breaking their arm in the middle of their wedding reception.