I’ll stop being miffed.
“ God , you look like a dork dressed like that.”
Thanks, Sam. Like that’s going to help me get over it.
“Oh, yeah?” I counter. “Well, you look like you’re going to the pool.”
“Aw, don’t be mad.” Here Sam pays me her highest compliment: she picks up the remote and shuts off the TV. “I want to hear all about it,” she says eagerly, “every detail of what it was like being Best Man at the wedding of Bobby and Alex.”
“Billy and Alice,” I correct, not for the first time. The Alice/Alex part is fairly new but Sam’s been calling Billy by the wrong name off and on pretty much since they met that first day in the back of the U-Haul. Billy and Sam don’t exactly love each other. Billy, figuring he’s my best friend because he’s known me longer than anyone else, gets kind of jealous of any competition for first place, hence his not inviting Sam to his wedding even though they’re both in my weekly poker game. And Sam, well, Sam may know she’s my BFF but she’s got her own jealousy issues where I’m concerned.
“Hey, I was close with the names! But wait. I’m going to get another beer. Don’t start until I get back.”
Like I was going to? Like I was going to just tell myself the story out loud? Fucking crazy Sam.
A moment later, her voice comes to me from the kitchen. “Hey, you want one?”
I love it when she offers me my own beer like it’s her fridge.
My buzz from the reception is entirely gone. Might as well start work on curing the hangover. Or start on the next buzz. Besides, it’s still early. “Sure,” I holler back.
By the time Sam returns with two beers and a bottle opener, I’ve shed my tux jacket and scooted over from the ottoman to the prime spot on the couch in the right-hand corner.
“Hey!” Sam’s outraged. “You stole my seat!”
I raise an eyebrow that I hope conveys the message: My couch. My seat.
“Asshole,” Sam mutters, pushing past me, but there’s no malice in any of it.
I cross my legs, so my right ankle is resting on my left knee.
“Nice socks,” Sam says.
I study my white socks, shrug. “It was either that or purple. You think I should have gone for the purple?”
She pops the caps on the beers, hands one over and sits down a foot away, tucking one leg under her bottom as she faces me.
“So. The big wedding. Spill.”
I take a swig of my beer and do as instructed.
I take her through the whole wedding ceremony, the cocktail hour, my speech – “I love the ‘circles of a man’s life’ speech!” she says – and finally the dance with Alice.
“What was that like, finally getting to dance with Alma after all these years?”
This time, I don’t correct her on the name.
“It was great,” I say. “Well, maybe not great. More like incredibly awkward, especially when she gave me a hard time about my speech.”
“What’s wrong with that woman? How could anyone give you a hard time about the ‘circles of a man’s life’ speech? Leave it to Barney to marry someone with an attitude problem and no taste. Everyone loves that speech. It’s a crowd-pleaser.”
“I know, right? But I guess for some reason brides don’t like to be toasted with the same toast they’ve already heard at another wedding.”
“Huh.” Sam’s puzzled. “Go figure.”
“I know.” I swig more beer. “You’re telling me? But that’s brides for you. They can be particular about little stuff. And they can really be particular if they catch you exiting their cousin’s hotel room after the reception.”
“Hold on a second. Back up.”
So I do. I back up to the reception and Three Sheets, her loving my speech because she’s the only woman there who hadn’t heard it all before, the garter belt, her squeezing my face ala Aunt Alfresca and everything else.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Sam says when I’m finished.
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to think what in all of that a guy would want to
“ God , you look like a dork dressed like that.”
Thanks, Sam. Like that’s going to help me get over it.
“Oh, yeah?” I counter. “Well, you look like you’re going to the pool.”
“Aw, don’t be mad.” Here Sam pays me her highest compliment: she picks up the remote and shuts off the TV. “I want to hear all about it,” she says eagerly, “every detail of what it was like being Best Man at the wedding of Bobby and Alex.”
“Billy and Alice,” I correct, not for the first time. The Alice/Alex part is fairly new but Sam’s been calling Billy by the wrong name off and on pretty much since they met that first day in the back of the U-Haul. Billy and Sam don’t exactly love each other. Billy, figuring he’s my best friend because he’s known me longer than anyone else, gets kind of jealous of any competition for first place, hence his not inviting Sam to his wedding even though they’re both in my weekly poker game. And Sam, well, Sam may know she’s my BFF but she’s got her own jealousy issues where I’m concerned.
“Hey, I was close with the names! But wait. I’m going to get another beer. Don’t start until I get back.”
Like I was going to? Like I was going to just tell myself the story out loud? Fucking crazy Sam.
A moment later, her voice comes to me from the kitchen. “Hey, you want one?”
I love it when she offers me my own beer like it’s her fridge.
My buzz from the reception is entirely gone. Might as well start work on curing the hangover. Or start on the next buzz. Besides, it’s still early. “Sure,” I holler back.
By the time Sam returns with two beers and a bottle opener, I’ve shed my tux jacket and scooted over from the ottoman to the prime spot on the couch in the right-hand corner.
“Hey!” Sam’s outraged. “You stole my seat!”
I raise an eyebrow that I hope conveys the message: My couch. My seat.
“Asshole,” Sam mutters, pushing past me, but there’s no malice in any of it.
I cross my legs, so my right ankle is resting on my left knee.
“Nice socks,” Sam says.
I study my white socks, shrug. “It was either that or purple. You think I should have gone for the purple?”
She pops the caps on the beers, hands one over and sits down a foot away, tucking one leg under her bottom as she faces me.
“So. The big wedding. Spill.”
I take a swig of my beer and do as instructed.
I take her through the whole wedding ceremony, the cocktail hour, my speech – “I love the ‘circles of a man’s life’ speech!” she says – and finally the dance with Alice.
“What was that like, finally getting to dance with Alma after all these years?”
This time, I don’t correct her on the name.
“It was great,” I say. “Well, maybe not great. More like incredibly awkward, especially when she gave me a hard time about my speech.”
“What’s wrong with that woman? How could anyone give you a hard time about the ‘circles of a man’s life’ speech? Leave it to Barney to marry someone with an attitude problem and no taste. Everyone loves that speech. It’s a crowd-pleaser.”
“I know, right? But I guess for some reason brides don’t like to be toasted with the same toast they’ve already heard at another wedding.”
“Huh.” Sam’s puzzled. “Go figure.”
“I know.” I swig more beer. “You’re telling me? But that’s brides for you. They can be particular about little stuff. And they can really be particular if they catch you exiting their cousin’s hotel room after the reception.”
“Hold on a second. Back up.”
So I do. I back up to the reception and Three Sheets, her loving my speech because she’s the only woman there who hadn’t heard it all before, the garter belt, her squeezing my face ala Aunt Alfresca and everything else.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Sam says when I’m finished.
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to think what in all of that a guy would want to
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