Free These Are the Moments by Jenny Bravo

hand, spilling over the sides of the red cup. “Look,” she tried to whisper. “ Over there .”
    Her volume control needed tuning.
    “Okay. Okay. We need a plan,” Wendy said, steadying her head with her palm. “Viv, go say hello.”
    “Me? But.” She pointed to her cup, then swayed on her feet.
    “Join the club,” Wendy said. “You need to play hostess. This is your party. Your wedding. Your future husband’s best friend.”
    “ Your ex-boyfriend. Your ex-love of your love,” Vivian chanted back.
    “Vivan,” Reese groaned, lying flat on the lounge chair, and pointed. “Go.”
    Something about the gruff bark of Reese’s order sent Vivian stumbling right over. She linked arms with Owen, who was big gesture-talking with Simon. Vivian waved to Simon, then gave an awkward curtsy. Wendy sunk back into the chair.
    “So, initial thoughts?” Reese asked. “How do you feel?”
    “Like I just got a big dose of Novocaine.”
    “Need another drink?”
    “Yes. Water.”
    Wendy needed to sober up, doing her best to not look directly at him. But her eyes kept crawling into his general vicinity, so she could see the blur of his body, as if he were smeared over the whole canvas of her world.
    So now, Wendy had to have feelings. They were there somewhere beneath all of the shock, but she couldn’t figure out exactly what they were and exactly what that meant.
    Are you happy? Are you sad? Scale of one to ten?
    No use.
    True or False: You still love Simon Guidry.
    False. Wow. False.
    True or False: You wish you could talk to him.
    True. That was normal, right?
    True or False: You are fully moved on. Over it. Done.
    Umm.
    False.
    She forced herself to look directly at him. The slump of his back in the way he stood. The wispy blond hair. His profile, serious and etched. He looked the same. But Wendy didn’t feel the same.
    The after-party was Owen’s idea. When the guests started to leave, Owen was just getting started, exercising his dance muscles and tipping back drinks. Vivian morphed into a rag doll, her twiggy arms and legs flopping to her sides, still chanting, “ I’m fine, I’m fine. ” They had managed to sit her into a lawn chair, pouring water down her throat, when Owen suggested the going-out idea.
    “She’s not going to make it,” Reese said.
    But Vivian perked up, reenergized, and said, “ I wanna go!”
    And that’s how Wendy wound up at the bar, slightly sober, with an out-of-control bridal party and Simon Guidry. They shuffled into the bar, which smelled like cigarettes and sweat, forging their way through the crowd.
    “Wait here,” Wendy yelled to Vivian. “I’ll get you some water.”
    “With vodka!” she requested.
    “Sure thing.” Lies.
    Simon glued himself to Owen and Owen’s cousin, Katherine. She was the only bridesmaid Wendy hadn’t met before, and in talking to her tonight, Wendy had learned she was a pageant queen, taking note of the fake white teeth and unnatural tan. She had a hand on Simon’s shoulder. Nothing overly flirtatious, but still. Her mere existence—caramel hair with a cleavage rack—demanded attention.
    In bars, there never seemed to be enough air, and the little that was available reeked of smoke and bad decisions. Reese hung on a guy with gauges in his earlobes, while Ben obliviously lit a cigar. Pressed up against her, a couple beside Wendy slipped their tongues into each other’s mouths, while the bartender poured her a gin and tonic.
    She found herself scanning the room for Simon. She didn’t even realize it until their eyes clicked, and she didn’t budge. For a second, they were caught in this strange moment of I’m looking and you’re looking and what now? Then he broke and it was over, lost in the lilt of Katherine’s laugh.
    Reese threw an arm over Wendy, while gauge guy lingered behind. “What’s the story there?”
    “She’s a double D. What more is there to know?”
    Reese dragged Wendy out to the dance floor. One drink led to two and