Lost and Found (16 page)

I was waiting on the landing, waiting on Delaney to emerge from her apartment. Emily had already been by to pick up Jenny, and if we didn’t leave soon, we were going to be late for the rehearsal dinner. I knocked on the door again and huffed, “Come
on,
Laney.”

“Coming!
Sorry!” she said from the other side, and when she opened the door, I lost my balance for a second. She was hopping on one foot, putting on an open-toed black heel, red, glossy toenails shining through. Her legs were unusually bare, and one of her vitiligo marks peeked out under a black skirt, which hugged her hips and went tight over her stomach, stopping right above her breasts, where a soft chiffon blouse was gathered taut over her chest in a V, a tiny edge of white lace revealed, cupping lots of round flesh as she bent over. She steadied herself on me, hooking her heel into the shoe, and I felt dizzy.

I pushed her away and she straightened out. “There. Sorry. These shoes are a little bit
pinchy.”

I shut my eyes for a second and then nodded. She grabbed a suitcase from inside her apartment and locked the door, and I stood there watching her, my eyes raking top to bottom and bottom to top. 

When she turned to face me, she put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Oliver? Everything okay?” I put my hand on hers and lifted each finger slowly, peeling it off my shoulder. “You look …” I took a deep breath and my eyes unfocused a little. I shook my head and tried to regain my common sense, but before I could say more, she yanked my arm toward the stairwell. “I thought you said we were late.”

“Right.”
I nodded and followed her. When we were buckled in my car and on the road, she turned to me, her chin in the palm of her hand, and said, “I like the three piece suit. Classy. You look very handsome.” She leaned across the stick shift and gave a playful tug on my red tie, and I swallowed, my eyes falling on the dip of fabric around her breasts again.

“Thanks,” I croaked. I took my hand off the gear shift for a se
cond to pull hers off of my tie, and she backed away immediately, settling quietly into the passenger seat. I glanced at her a few times from the corner of my eye as she fiddled with the radio, telling me she was trying to find the public radio station.

“You look nice,” I said.

She shrugged.  “Ursula did my makeup and Emily made me get this dress. None of this is really me.” She tapped her fingers rapidly against the dashboard and said, “So, give me a rundown of your family.”

“I think you should avoid talking to my family. They’re awful,” I said.

“Should I stand in a corner frowning at everyone, silently judging them and sipping a drink?”

“Yes.”

“Great. You act like I’m going into a viper pit. They’re your family. They can’t be that bad.”

I turned and looked at her. “Want to tell me about your mom?”

“No.” Her hand went back to the radio. “You know, you never did explain why you invited me.”

“I told you. My family wanted to meet you.”

“Because Mia told them about me?”

“It was my mother, actually. She somehow got the impression that you were my girlfriend. My mot
her wants me to get married. Badly. So she’ll cling to anything she can.”

“Wait, am I supposed to be pretending to be your gir
lfriend?” she asked.

“God no!”
I said with a laugh. “No one would ever believe that!”

“Oh. Okay,” she said too quietly, and turned to stare out the wi
ndow. My stomach plummeted.

“It’s just that I haven’t ever had a serious girlfriend. They know I don’t do that. No one would ever believe it. They’ll know you’re just preten
ding if you say otherwise, and that I put you up to it.”

“Right,” she said, still looking out the window, her forehead now pressed against it, her body as far from me as she could get.

I let out a big sigh, and turned up the radio to hear the national news.

When I lived in LA, I got used to everyone being more beautiful and successful than me. I got used to being less than, invisible, a nobody, or a hanger-on, as one of Cliff’s cast mates once called me. That one stung.

It had been nice coming home to Central Illinois, knowing that while I wasn’t exactly a beauty queen, at
least no one would think I was desperately trying to hold on to a man that everyone knew was too good for me.

But standing in the tent in Oliver’s parents’ bac
kyard, my arm threaded through his elbow as he led me underneath the chandeliers (tents had chandeliers?), I was having some traumatic flashbacks of Hollywood.

“This is the
rehearsal
dinner?” I said, watching over a hundred people filter into the backyard.

“My parents like a party. The wedding’s supposed to be over 500 people.”

“But Ursula said it was in a barn!”

“Yes, if you count the country club adjacent to the horse stables a
barn,
then sure,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, summoning some courage.
“Got it. You’re Kennedy rich.”

“Not me.
My mother.” Then Oliver leaned in and I got a sniff of his shaving cream and deodorant, and I was lightheaded for a second as he said, “So, you ready?”

I nodded and he led me toward a woman with a brown coif which could only be described as a very fancy helmet. “Mother,” Oliver said in a stiff tone. He made no move to let go of me or hug her. “This is my friend, Delaney Curtis.”

“How do you do,” Oliver’s mother said, her eyes scanning me, stopping at my calves, and again at my forehead.  She held a tumbler of amber liquid and then took a sip and gave me a short nod and turned away again.

Oliver tugged me, and I looked up at him in his charcoal gray three piece suit, crisp white shirt stan
ding out against his red tie, and I had to squeeze my legs together for a second to remember that the gorgeous man in front of me was
just
my friend. “C’mere,” he said, and we walked toward the center of the tent.

Mia was standing there in a lacy pastel pink dress, her hair curled and sitting atop one delicate shou
lder, where her clavicle flared out. I didn’t know clavicles could flare until I saw hers. Her lips were painted the same color as her dress, and they curved up when she saw my date. “Oliver!” she said, and the man standing next to her turned.

In front of me was a tall, broad shouldered man that looked a lot like Oliver but with lighter coloring, not to mention that he made Oliver look like
Ringo to his Paul. His thick eyebrows framed ice blue eyes, and they raised in amusement as he said, “So, this is why we never see you anymore.”

He reached out his big calloused hands, and before I knew it, I was being crushed into his chest in a hug. “It’s so good to meet you, Delaney,” he said as he grinned down at me.

“Brad, let go,” Oliver said, and Brad released me.

Brad smiled at me like a friendly giant. “You are not what I was expecting. You’re not Oliver’s type.”

“I’ve figured that out,” I said.

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows.

Mia said, “I told Oliver that.”

Brad turned to his fiancée. “You already got to meet her?”

“Oliver left his phone at lunch, and so I got to meet Delaney when I returned it,” she said, a blush creeping up her skin. I still wondered what happened when Oliver had taken her back to his apartment, but I had vowed not to pry. It wasn’t my business. And I didn’t want to know about what was going on, though from the way Oliver was giving Mia soulful stares, I could imagine.

“You look beautiful, Mia. Congratulations,” I said as Oliver settled an arm across my shoulder and looked pointedly at Mia. She looked down into her champagne glass, and I gingerly pulled Ol
iver’s arm off of me.

There was a pregnant silence until Oliver said, “I need a beer. Where’s the bar?” He peered around the tent. “I’ll be back,” he said as he di
sappeared into the crowd.

Once he was gone, Brad shook his head. “Glad he asked you if you want anything. Do you? I could go get you something.” I told him, “No thanks,” and he asked, “So, how long have you two been seeing each other?”

I noticed Mia waiting with wide eyes for my answer, and I said, “Actually, we’re just friends.”

“Really?”
Brad asked, skeptical. “Because the way Oliver was holding onto you…I’ve never seen that.”

“Really?”
Mia asked with a hint of relief.

I stared at Mia for a minute, thinking of her at the bottom of an alligator pit before I smiled and said, “Rea
lly. I have a boyfriend,” I lied, just as Oliver reappeared, settling his arm across my shoulder again.

“You have a boyfriend?” Brad asked me, and Oliver looked at
me, his face draining of color.

“…boyfriend,” I heard Delaney say, and I groaned to myself that she was going to pretend all night. Then again, it was an excuse to stand next to her, to put my arm around her, to feel her warmth at my side. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. I had to close my eyes and focus before I rejoined her, putting my arm around her where it felt exactly right, and pulling her to me.

“You have a boyfriend?” Brad asked her, and I stared down at Delaney, my skin prickling all over.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and I nodded and then squeezed my eyes shut, taking a big swig of my beer, chugging it until it was half-gone. “Oliver?” Delaney tugged at my jacket and I looked at her again.

Cliff.
When she’d mentioned LA and Cliff, I thought maybe it was a joke. But no. She was going back to Cliff, and she hadn’t mentioned it at all. Not that we’d talked much since Mia had showed up. Still, Cliff?

I rubbed a hand over my face and said, “Be right back.”
And I walked out of the tent.

I found him at the far end of the lake on his mom’s property, his expensive black wingtips dangling over the edge of the creaky wooden dock. “Hey,” I said, nudging his shoulder as I carefully sat down in my dress, maneuvering my legs under me in the tight skirt.

“Hey,” he said flatly, his face still downturned toward the water.

“The dinner’s going to start soon. I was told to come get you for the toast.”

“Okay,” he said.

There was a long silence, and I took a deep breath and decided to be brave. “Is it hard? Seeing the person you want with someone else?”

“What?” He faced me, shocked. “What did you say?”

I played with the edge of my dress as I felt his eyes bore into me. “I know how you feel about Mia.”

“How do I feel about Mia?” he asked, moving close enough that our hips bumped. I looked up at him, searc
hing for something in his expression that I failed to find before I spoke. “It was all over your face when she dropped by to give you your phone. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

“You’re not?” I asked in surprise.

“No. Mia is great, and Brad is great. They’re great together. They’ll have a great life together. Me, in the mi
ddle, that was just—”

“A mess?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Brad know?”

“I don’t think so, but my brother is smarter than I give him credit.”

“Yeah, he seems a little overeager for you to have a girlfriend.”

Oliver pursed his lips briefly. “He’s been like that since our dad died.”

“Oh. I didn’t know your dad died.”

“Yeah.”

“Mine’s dead too.”

“We can form a club.”

“When?”
I asked.

“The club?
Now. You design the logo and I’ll get some silk-screened shirts.”

“I meant, when did he die?”

“Thirteen years ago. You?”

“Nine years. So you
were, what, eighteen? I was sixteen.”

“Yeah, eighteen.”

“What happened?”

“Cancer.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that kills you.”
He reached into his pocket to get something and threw it into the water.

He didn’t ask about
my
dad. He was clearly uninterested and that stung. But I felt the awkwardness creeping in between us and I explained anyway. “My dad died of being old. He was eighty. My mom was his third wife, but I was his only kid. And one day he was just dead.”

“Oh,” he said.
“Sucks.”

“Well, if you’re going to die, being old is the way to go. There’s no fixing it, having a life, having lived.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re being awfully forthcoming about this.” He stared ahead at the water and I looked up at the cloudless blue early autumn sky and asked him, “So, is this why you’re a doctor?”

He looked over at me. “What do you mean? Am I a doctor because my dad is dead?” I nodded and said, “You seem to feel the need to save everyone.”

“Like Jesus?”

“More like Batman. Or Superman. They both have dead dads. Or maybe Spiderman with his dead uncle.”

“Thanks. Which one are you?”

“None. I don’t have the need to save everyone. But you? You’re kind of transparent.”

“I know.”

“So are you trying to save Mia?”

He shook his head. “I’m trying very hard
not
to save Mia.”

“What’s she need saving from, anyway? Brad seems nice.
Very handsome.”

He narrowed his eyes. “As long as we’re psychoanaly
zing, let’s talk about you.”

“Me? There’s nothing to psychoanalyze.”

“You’re obsessed with appearances.”

I scoffed. I actually scoffed. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re always noticing how people look. You think people think less of you because you have vitiligo, which most people don’t even notice.”

“Because I cover it up.”

“No. It’s because you’re obsessed. It’s in your head. And you didn’t cover it up today and no one n
oticed.”

“I’m pretty sure your mom did.”

He ignored me and went on. “And you wouldn’t have been with an asshole like Cliff if you weren’t into pretty things, because he is a loss as a human being.”

I folded my arms and stewed. He drew his eyebrows together. “Why are you still with Cliff?” I opened my mouth to answer, but he held up his hand. “Wait, let me get this out.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

“I know Cliff is successful and rich and good-looking, but he’s not good enough for you, Delaney. He has abs
olutely no idea who you are. He doesn’t even
look
at you when you speak to him. He doesn’t like Jenny. He doesn’t eat dessert. When you’re with him, you’re timid and withdrawn and not really you.”

I blinked. I was ready to tell him I wasn’t with Cliff, but Oliver said, “One more thing. I went to his website,
and it’s ugly. He used Papyrus font in his masthead. And I don’t think he did it ironically. You can’t be with a guy who uses Papyrus.”

“I begged him to let me redesign his site, but he doesn’t trust my taste.”

“That’s another reason. Cliff has terrible taste.”

“He does, especially for such a beautiful person. You’d think all pretty people would be equipped with that skill, but not Cliff.

“And I’m not with him. I just said that because I figured it would be easier on you, so you wouldn’t have all these friends and relatives trying to push me toward you and do girlfriend-type things with you, and ask you questions. Since you said no one would ever believe I was your girlfriend.” His eyes widened and I said, “You know, which I totally get. I mean, of course no one would think we were together. That would be weird and preposterous and I totally
get
that and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you and put you in this weird situation where people wondered why you were with me, and so I just said I was still with Cliff and we were friends to, uh…” I looked up at him, my face hot with embarrassment. 

He lowered his eyebrows in confusion. “You think I’m emba
rrassed by you?”

Instead of answering and leading myself down the road of the damned, I stood up and he followed. “We better go back to dinner, Best Man. I want to hear your toast.”

“Oh, fuck. I forgot,” he said with a groan as we walked with a space between us to the tent.