Attach ments(75)

Lincoln ended up at the Village Inn, alone. When the waitress came, he ordered two pieces of French silk pie. She brought them on separate plates, which was embarrassing for some reason.

He had a copy of the next day’s paper, one of the perks of working at The Courier, but he was so agitated, he couldn’t read it.

He was so agitated, so at loose ends, he didn’t notice until his second piece of pie that Chris was sitting at the next booth. Beth’s Chris. He was actually facing Lincoln, both of them sitting alone at their tables.

Lincoln remembered the last time he’d seen Chris, on New Year’s Eve, and considered leaping across the table tofollow up on smashing his face. But he’d lost the urge.

Chris looked different. Cleaned up. He was wearing a dress shirt, rakishly unbuttoned of course, and a jacket, andhis hair looked smooth and shiny. Like a fucking Breck commercial , Lincoln thought.

And then, Right, for the rehearsal dinner. And then Lincoln started to laugh. A little. Mostly on the inside.

Because he shouldn’t know that, but he did. And he should hate this guy, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to kill Chris. He wanted to trade places with him. No, he didn’t even want that. If Lincoln had been Beth’s date to the rehearsal dinner tonight, he’d be home with her now. If he were her date to the wedding tomorrow, he’d be counting down the hours until she put on that dress. Until she took it off again.

He laughed again. On the outside.

Chris looked up at Lincoln then, and seemed to recognize him.

“Hey,” Chris said.

Lincoln stopped laughing. Until this moment, he’d believed somehow that he was invisible to Chris.

The way he was invisible to Beth. (Except that he wasn’t.) “Hey,” Lincoln said.

“Hey, uh, you wouldn’t have a cigarette, would you?” Chris asked.

Lincoln shook his head. “Sorry.”

Chris nodded and smiled. “I’m unprepared tonight. Nothing to smoke. Nothing to read.” He seemed agitated, too, but he wore it better than Lincoln.

“You can have a section of my paper,” Lincoln said.

“Thanks,” Chris said. He got up and walked over to Lincoln’s booth, leaned against it, and picked up the Entertainment section.

“I missed today’s movie review,” Chris said.

“Movie fan?” Lincoln said dumbly.

“Movie reviewer fan,” Chris said. “My girl, she’s the film critic …Hey, this is tomorrow’s paper.”

“It’s today’s technically … ,” Lincoln said. “I work at The Courier.”

“Maybe you know her, then.”

“I don’t know many people,” Lincoln said. He felt so stiff, he couldn’t believe his mouth was moving. He felt like, if he said the wrong word, he might actually turn to stone. Like he might anyway.

“I work nights.”

“You’d know,” Chris said, nodding and looking out the window, agitated again, “you’d know if you knew her. She’s a force. A force to be reckoned with. An act of God, you know?”

“Like a tornado?” Lincoln asked.

Chris laughed. “Sort of,” he said. “I was thinking more … I don’t know what I was thinking, but yeah. She’s …” He patted his chest pocket nervously, then ran his hand through his hair. “You’re single, right? I mean, I never see you at our shows with anyone.”

“Right,” Lincoln said. Not only am I not invisible, I’m visibly alone.

Chris laughed again. It was sharp. Sarcastic. It undid some of the charm of his smile.

“I can’t even remember what that’s like …” He shook his head ruefully, touched his hair again.

“It’s this jacket,” Chris said. “I had to take my cigarettes out because you could see them poking out of the pocket. Classy, right? I can’t remember when I’ve gone this long without …You ever smoked?”

“No,” Lincoln said. “Never picked it up.”

“No cigarettes, no girl, you’re living an unencumbered life, my friend.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Lincoln said, looking hard at the man across from him and wishing for some sort of Freaky Friday miracle right there, right then.

“Oh,” Chris said, abashed. He was pretty enough for that word. “Right,” he said. “I didn’t mean …”

He looked down and held out the Entertainment section. “Thanks. For this. I’ll let you go back …

Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered …It’s the jacket, you know? I’m not myself.”

Lincoln mustered a smile. Chris stood up.