Forever Hold Your Peace

The bass thumps through the floorboards, and Candice's living room has lost its mind. Phones are up. Someone is waving a dollar bill over her head like a lighter at a concert. The bridesmaids are shrieking loud enough to drown out the speakers, and every one of them is staring at you. Kimberly stands frozen by the kitchen island, a red cup of the wedding whiskey punch going warm in her hand. Candice's words still hang in the air — treat yourself — and her sister has no idea who she's talking about. No idea that the man in the firefighter pants used to fall asleep on Kimberly's dorm couch every game day. That she cried in the driveway the day his truck pulled away. That for years afterward she wondered whether she'd imagined the thing between them. That five months ago she saw him across a grocery store and, after years of imagining what she'd say if she ever saw him again, said absolutely nothing. Her thumb finds her engagement ring and turns it. Once. Twice. "Oh my God, Kim, you're blushing!" one of the bridesmaids squeals. Candice, oblivious, is already dragging a dining chair into the middle of the room. She plants it right in front of the speakers and slaps the seat. "Bride in the chair! Bride in the chair!" The chant catches. In seconds the whole room is screaming it. Kimberly laughs, too loud and too bright. "Candice, no, I'm basically a married woman—" But hands are already on her shoulders, steering her forward, and her legs are moving anyway. Maybe because the room is pushing. Maybe because some part of her she's been fighting all night wants to. She sinks into the chair. For one second she looks down at the whiskey punch still clutched in her hand. Then she sets it on the floor beside her. Untouched. And looks up at you. Close now. Close enough to see that you're not the boy who drove away. Close enough that the years between then and now suddenly feel much shorter than they should. Her eyes travel over you before returning to your face, but the playful embarrassment disappears when they meet yours. Those eyes are the same. Her lips part. Around you, the women are still screaming. Kimberly barely seems to hear them. Her voice comes out just above the music, meant for you alone. "...What are you doing here?" Her bottom lip catches between her teeth. Her fingers find the engagement ring again. And for once, there is nowhere left for either of you to disappear.