Picking Up the Pieces (36 page)

Amanda walked casually over to Shane, a devious
spark in her eyes. But it wasn’t until she spoke that I knew for certain Shane would undoubtedly kill her. “Nobody puts Shaney in the corner,” she said, as she extended her hand down to take his. The look on Shane’s face told me he was wondering if there were any Philadelphia judges who might be able to perform an annulment at a moment’s notice.

With a look of horror plastered across his face,
Shane surprisingly rose to follow Amanda to the center of the dance floor, watching her nervously. Amanda faced the audience and began to speak quietly. “Sorry about the disruption, folks. But I always do the last dance of the season."
She can't be fuckin' serious.
"Or in this case the first," she said smirking at Shane, who didn’t seem at all amused. “But this year somebody told me not to. So I’m gonna do my kind of dancin’ with a great partner.”
Yup, she's definitely serious.
With that last comment, Shane made his first real attempt at utilizing one of the possible escape routes he’d probably been scoping out since Amanda had first grabbed his hand and ushered him onto the dance floor.

But as he made a movement toward the edge of the dance floor, Amanda grabbed him by the waist and pulled him against her before continuing to speak.
“He’s not only a terrific dancer,” she said, “but somebody who’s taught me that it’s worth it to take a chance on someone. Somebody who’s taught me about the kind of person I wanna be. And what it means to really love someone.” Amanda turned to look in Shane’s eyes, and it finally became clear to me what Amanda was doing. She was expressing her true feelings for Shane publicly the only way she knew how: through a spoof of
Dirty Dancing.

The music grew louder, and the guests cheered, urging them to dance.
Amanda tossed the microphone to the DJ and moved behind Shane, who turned to look back at her as she ran a hand down his side and across his stomach just like Patrick Swayze does in the movie. The crowd grew more wild with every movement. “Do you think he’s actually gonna try to dance with her to this?” Adam asked.

One look at Shane’s face and I knew the answer.
“I don’t just
think
it,” I said. “I
know
it. There isn’t anything he
wouldn’t
do for her.”

And with that thought, Shane shook his jacket off and tossed it to the crowd before Amanda spun him out and pulled him back in, their hands locking and their hips and legs moving to the beat of the music.
Holy shit. It had all been an act.
Shane and Amanda had learned the choreography to
Dirty Dancing
.

Shane pulled her out and then in again, wrapping his arm around Amanda's waist as he led her toward the front of the dance floor, gyrating to the music as it grew louder. At least they had switched roles and Shane had now taken the male lead.
The guests sang, and Amanda spun in circles, wildly tossing her hair side to side to the beat.

They continued their routine, their eyes locking at all the right moments as they paused to catch their breath together before the dance would pick up speed and they’d shake their bodies against each other.
The audience seemed to anticipate the climax of the dance and hollered and clapped in encouragement.

When Shane jumped up and moved away from Amanda, the crowd that had formed near them backed away to make room for his solo.
He spun around, snapping his fingers and moving his hips until he dropped his knees to the floor to shake in an overly exaggerated impression of Patrick. For someone who didn’t like to dance, Shane could really move.

I couldn’t wait for the part when he would pick Amanda up over his head, and when it finally happened, it didn’t disappoint.
As she ran toward him and jumped into his arms, Shane lifted her effortlessly above him, holding her firmly in his arms as they gazed at each other longingly. The crowd loved every second of it.

When he finally put her down, the two got lost in their own moment
again, dancing with each other and inviting everyone else to join in. They'd both done the movie justice, each learning the choreography seamlessly. But as good of a dancer as each one of them was individually, nothing compared to how great they were
together
.

The excitement eventually died down, and Adam and I spent the next hour or so talking and dancing to a few slow songs.
I enjoyed resting my head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around me and moved us gracefully to the music. After most of the guests had finished dinner, the wait staff set up an ice cream bar and brought out the cake for Shane and Amanda to cut.

We watched from a distance on the balcony above as Amanda slipped a piece of cake into Shane’s mouth sloppily.
“Make sure you get a video of this, people,” Amanda announced. “Shane Reed’s eating cake. This might go viral.” Shane smirked and wiped a bit of the stray icing from his lips before sliding his fingers into Amanda’s mouth so she could lick it off. Then he leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Her wide grin transformed instantaneously into another emotion entirely. Desire maybe? The whole experience seemed so intimate, despite the fact that they had an audience of over one hundred and twenty-five people.

Suddenly, Shane and Amanda’s moment was interrupted by a loud voice coming over the DJ’s microphone a few feet away.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Ben bellowed.
Oh God.
“I’m not really great with words. But I make up for it with my good looks,” he quickly added. The guests chuckled a bit, and Ben nervously continued. “My brother’ll probably kill me for telling this story.” He glanced over at Shane who seemed to be trying to figure out a way to murder him with his eyes. “So of course I’m gonna tell it.” Ben focused his attention back on the guests. “When we were growing up, we had this chain link fence that wrapped around our backyard. Maybe about three feet tall or something. Anyway, we used to climb it all the time so we could cut through our neighbors’ yards to get to different parts of the neighborhood faster. I usually had to help him get over it because I was so much bigger and stronger. That’s still true today,” he quickly added. “But one day when I wasn’t there, he tried to climb it by himself.”

I looked over at Shane, who was already red with embarrassment.
Next to him, Amanda was grinning from ear to ear, waiting for Ben to continue. “I guess when he made it over the fence, his pants snagged on the top, flipping him upside down.” Ben hinged at the waist and made a goofy face to imitate Shane dangling from the fence. Shane’s mother was already laughing nearby. “And there he hung for almost six hours, screaming for someone to help him. Finally, our mom,” Ben pointed to her, “must’ve wondered where the hell he was. He was only six at the time. So she went outside to look for him.”

“I didn’t hear him screaming because I was doing
the laundry all day,” she called out in an effort to defend herself.

“It’s
okay, Mom, we all know you love me more,” Ben corrected her. “Anyway, by the time she got outside and found him, Shane’s face was beet red, his pants were so ripped that his superman underwear was showing, and his face was covered in dirt because the neighbor’s dog had taken a shit nearby and kicked mud on him.”

“Does this story have a point?” Shane asked, embarrassment plaguing his voice.

“Does this story have a point? You believe this guy? Of course it has a fuckin’ point. Why else would I tell it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shane joked, “because most of your enjoyment comes from seeing me suffer.”

“Well, yeah, that’s definitely true,” Ben admitted. “So I guess this story really has
two
points then. The first time Shane stopped screaming was when he saw our mom finally coming to help him. She picked him up off the fence, carried him inside, gave him a bath, and put him to bed. My point is that he waited for what seemed like forever for the woman he loved to come along and make his world right side up again.” Ben turned to his right to face Shane and Amanda. “And Amanda did the same thing for him twenty-four years later.” Both Amanda and Shane smiled broadly at Ben. It had probably been the first time either of them had seen him this sentimental. “To someone I admire and respect,” Ben said, raising his glass and prompting the guests to do the same. “And to my douchebag of a little brother,” he said, smiling as he took a sip of his beer.

Shortly after Ben’s speech, Amanda’s mom followed suit, recounting a tale about when she’d pulled down their street to find Amanda and her friend trying to pass off bags of sand as
cocaine to sell in front of the church on the corner. “Even in second grade, Amanda was a firecracker,” she said. “Now has anyone seen my shoes?” she asked, looking down at her bare feet on the dance floor. “I took them off when I got here, and I still haven’t found them. Oh yeah, to Shane and Amanda,” she quickly added as she threw back her champagne like a shot of tequila. There was a murmuring among the crowd, but they all followed Angela’s lead, raising their glasses and drinking to Amanda and Shane’s big day.

“What was that about?” Adam asked, practically doubled over with laughter.
“That was a strange speech.”

“I’m not sure,” I answered.
“I think she just wanted the microphone so she could ask where her shoes were. That story was funny as shit though. Who the hell sells fake drugs when they’re seven?” I hadn’t even anticipated that anyone would give a speech because Amanda had told me not to prepare one. But if Ben and Angela could deliver, I sure as shit could. “Wait!” I yelled from above. “I’d like to make a toast too.”

I hurried down the stairs, taking the few seconds I had on the way to decide what to say.
Unfortunately, when I got to the microphone, I still had no fucking idea where to begin. “I didn’t prepare a speech either,” I said, “and I don’t think mine will be as good as Ben’s or Angela’s. By the way, Angela, I saw a pair of blue heels over by the salad bar.” The guests laughed, and I used the moment to catch my breath and compose my thoughts before continuing. “I don’t have any funny stories like they do . . . or at least any that can be shared with the general public,” I corrected myself. When people laughed again, I realized maybe I wasn’t doing as horribly as I'd anticipated. I made eye contact with Amanda, who mouthed an appreciative, “Thank you,” presumably because I’d decided to keep any embarrassing stories to myself.

I smiled sweetly at her.
“I just want to say congratulations to the happy couple. Amanda and Shane are special people.” I already felt a tear working its way out of the corner of my eye, but I made no attempt to keep it there. “And they’re even more special
together
,” I added. “Their relationship is one that many of us can only hope to have one day. I was watching them dance earlier . . . like all of you were. And by the way, Shane, you’ve got some killer moves,” I said with a wink.

“Watch it, girl,” Amanda hollered.
“He’s taken.”

“Anyway,” I continued, shaking my head, and directing my attention to the guests, “when they were dancing, I finally realized what makes their relationship so unique
, so able to withstand any hardship that they’ll face in the future.” Silence settled over the room, and I took the moment to look over to Shane and Amanda, who had their arms around each other tightly.

“It’s what happens in the pauses,” I said quietly. “When you're dancing . . .
it’s easy to let the choreography do the work because it tells you exactly where to go, exactly which steps to take. But it's the pauses that differentiate the
good
dancers from the
great
ones.” I looked down for a moment, deciding how to best say what I wanted to convey next. “When the music stops,
great
dancers make even those small, seemingly insignificant moments special.”

I wiped
a few runaway tears from my cheek with my thumb, collecting myself before I spoke again. “And the same is true of life, I guess. When everything seems to come to a halt and you’re in between steps, you have to find a way to come together and make even the mundane moments memorable.” I turned to face
Amanda and Shane, giving them a warm smile through my tears. “You both do that better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I raised my glass up to them, and the rest of the guests did the same.
“Amanda and Shane, I wish you both many years filled with love, family, and unconditional happiness. But there’s one thing I won’t wish you. And that’s luck. Because I know you won’t need it,” I shrugged. “You're already great at the pauses. To Amanda and Shane, everybody.”

I took a sip of my champagne and held my arms out to hug Amanda, who had already begun to make her way toward me.
“I love you,” I said. “Congratulations to you both.”

“I love you too, Lil.”
She wrapped her arms around me tightly and sniffled. “And that speech was badass, by the way,” she said in an effort to lighten the mood as she pulled back. “Great at the pauses, huh?” she smirked. “That shit’s fucking genius.”

"Thanks," I laughed.
"It's amazing what you can learn from
So You Think You Can Dance."

Eventually, Adam made his way downstairs to congratulate Shane and Amanda.
Then we took a slice of cake to share at one of the round booths on the second level. Alone, for the first time in a while, we fed each other small bites and chatted about the upcoming summer, our jobs, and how perfect the wedding had been. The entire night had been so Amanda and Shane. Sporty, but elegant. Comfortable, but still formal: the physical embodiment of their individual lives becoming one. It was so natural, so . . . effortless that I wondered how they did it.