There were twinkles everywhere that night. The trees shone with the tiny clear bulbs strung between and throughout and within every branch. Candles flickered on the tablecloths that were outfitted with simple linens, water in wide mouthed decanters, and bulbous loaves of crusty homemade bread. Champagne was handed out seconds after the couple was announced man and wife. The bride glowed in her sequined sheath while her Armani model husband’s white teeth never stopped smiling at her.
Sweat glistened on each of the attendees as it was Texas and May and outside. We drank gin and tonics and rose and swallowed those glasses of champagne, never quite getting tipsy but feeling the buzz warm and cool us all at the same time. We sat at a table full of the non glamorous New Yorkers. A table of old high school friends-smart, interesting, funny, self-deprecating young professionals. Kind men who took care of their recently widowed mother who sat at the next table over. Men who asked good questions and made jokes and trekked across the green lawn to fill my drink.
Everything sparkled as we watched the groom and his mother dance to Edelweiss. The crowd joined in and serenaded the sweet scene. I sat next to the widow on a little bench, feeling her youngest sons gaze on me every now and then. He was tall and big chinned and quick to smile. He had led his mother up to us to say hello to my best friend whom he knew growing up. His mom grasped onto the crook of his arm and commented on the heat and the beauty of the night. His broad chest looked even larger in his fitted dark gray suit and classic white shirt with a spread-collar detail. Sharp, easy, polite, fun.
The bride and groom step into the middle to dance. My heart already dreaming of a big city and the romance it holds-like the NYC in which they reside. Their song is relatively unknown but I gasp when I realize it’s the song JT said he wanted his wife to walk down the aisle to. The sweet best friends behind me ask me what it is. Is it just me, or is everything in life a sign? I think to myself while quickly realizing I hadn’t thought about JT all night. He’s not my type of sparkly. Not my romance. I’m not meant to be his.
We leave before the dancing; I’m too swallowed up in my realizations to have fun and let loose. I wake up the next morning dehydrated and dry and dull. Life always feels so very up and down to me. No more sparkles. I check my Facebook and notice a message:
“It was nice meeting you last night! Y’all should have stayed for the reception. You were killing it in that red dress.” typed the big chinned and chested man, I imagine, with a twinkle in his eye.