The
Dollar Dance
by SuniD
The
exterior of the Community Building was still undergoing renovations,
but the inside had been transformed into a glowing reception hall.
White lights were wrapped around banisters and draped in the darkest
corners, so the honored guests were surrounded by makeshift
starlight.
“Never
would’ve thought of orange and purple,” said Trina on my left.
“The white tuxes were a nice touch, though, don’t ya think?”
“Too
much white,” is what I said. Plus, the white dress was a joke.
Jessica lost her virginity in eighth grade, is what I wanted to
add.
“At
a wedding? Never.”
I
wrapped my hand a little tighter around the red plastic cup that
contained my real friend: liquid courage, bubbly comforter.
“What
did you think of the ceremony? I didn’t know what side to sit on. I
picked bride, since I’ve known Jess longer, but I got stuck in a
back row ‘cause the place was packed.” Trina was already giddy
from keg beer and her smile engulfed her flushed face. “It was on
the left. Is that the bride side?”
“Yeah.”
I remembered having the same sort of dilemma. My heart had said
bride, but when the usher asked, my mouth had said, groom.
Trina’s small talk got away from me during the brief recollection
so I blurted out, “I love that the pastor called her, ‘Jennifer,’”
to change the subject.
“I
know! It happened at the rehearsal, too.”
“You
weren’t in the wedding.”
“I
went for moral support.” Trina shrugged her small shoulder into her
brown locks. “Jess was freaked. She didn’t relax until the final,
‘I do.’”
I bet
she had good reason to be nervous. I thought about the emphasis
Jessica put on the word, “faithful,” during the vows, and watched
a throng of people in their Sunday best inch along in the food line.
I had passed on grub. It would have soaked up the booze. Besides,
everything would have tasted as bitter as my beer.
“Is
she pregnant?” I asked.
“No.
I don’t think so. Why?”
“They
just threw this together kind of fast,” I suggested. “They
weren’t even seeing each other six months, and Tom is not the type
to commit easily.”
The
invitation had been an affront. More than the atrocious color scheme
had made me nauseous. The gaudy announcement, so soon, had made me
want to hurl, but I knew once I started, it wouldn’t have stopped
until I vomited out my vital organs, my heart.
“Weren’t
they on again off again for awhile before that?”
“No.”
I stuck my nose in my cup. “That was Tom and me.”
“Oh.
That’s right,” Trina nearly screamed her revelation, and the
music wasn’t even loud yet. “You guys dated in high school.”
“Something
like that,” I said in monotone, nodding. I didn’t really count
the first two times Tom and I were together. They had lasted under
two months each, and I had called them both off. Then, when we split
up to go to college, it had been mutual. The fourth time, six months
ago, he hadn’t wanted a serious relationship.
“Oh.
They’re doing the dollar dance,” Trina squealed with delight.
“Come on. I’m going to dance with both of them.”
Trina
left her beer on the paper covered table, next to a fishbowl with a
candle floating in it. I refused to abandon mine, and was careful not
to slosh the dregs while she pulled me along.
“I
don’t have a dollar,” I said, trying to back out.
“Here,”
Trina said and handed me a crisp bill, folded in half the long way.
The
line was moving fast, at two minutes per partner. What a crummy way
to squeeze more loot out of the occasion, as if the mountain of gifts
inside the door wasn’t enough.
“My
turn,” Trina bubbled as she cut in. “Hi, Tom.”
I
caught his eye for the first time and felt the dollar wrinkle in my
closed fist. There wasn’t a request to R.S.V.P., and I had skipped
the receiving line at the church. It would have been alright by me if
he had never known I was there.
“Next,”
Trina called out to me, from somewhere far away. I vaguely remember
her skipping off the dance floor, and me passing my buck to someone.
Mostly, I remember his face. He was genuinely happy to see me, and he
said so.
“I
didn’t think you were going to make it,” Tom said and wrapped his
arms around me.
His
arms were strong. He smelled the same, and I tried to smile when I
said, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
We
swayed back and forth to Journey’s Open Arms and memories
floated between our eyes. There were homecoming dances, prom, and
that night we went salsa dancing. We barely made it through the door
before ripping each others clothes off.
“A
dollar’s the going rate, huh?”
“I
guess I’m a cheap date,” Tom joked, his perfect teeth blazing
white, goatee wrinkling just inside adorable dimples.
I
thought of all the things I never said to make him stay, and still
couldn’t say them. I wanted to unleash my feminine wiles. At least
I remembered to bring my cleavage. He stole glances at my neckline.
“I
still love you, Tom,” was on the tip of my tongue, when someone
tapped my shoulder.
“The
dollar dance is over,” Jessica said, her smile parted as if to
bite.
Her
sequins strangled me, stopped me from calling her trailer trash, and
a home-wrecking whore.
“You
had your chance,” she said, and reached for Tom with manicured
claws. “Now, it’s my turn.”
Tom
drew Jessica in for a slimy lip lock. I turned on my heel and gagged
at the thought of congratulating them on a blessed union.
