Blame it on the Vodka (Blame it on the Alcohol)
Which was the only excuse I had for what came out of my mouth next.
“His wife,” I explained, offering my hand.
Austin’s attention jerked to me, and I could only imagine the confusion hitting him. But I couldn’t look because I was too busy trying to hold my smile in place to hide the confusion currently bitch-slapping me.
“Wife?” Her hand moved to mine just as slowly as the words struggling to leave her lips. “You’re married?” she asked Austin.
“Recently,” he explained.
For someone so eager to keep this marriage going, he didn’t sound like it. Something else lingered in the background of the conversation—something only they could see.
Before I could ask any questions, my mom came up behind us. “We can talk at the table. Let’s grab a seat.”
With a polite smile to Aubrey, I moved past her to find our nametags at the long table. Lucky me had Aubrey right across the low flickering candles. Small talk ensued while we ate the delicious meal. At least, I assumed it was delicious. I barely tasted any of it, my mind too consumed with thoughts of what lingered between Austin and Aubrey and why he stopped giving me small touches each chance he could get. Or why he wouldn’t look my way.
Was he avoiding me, or was I being paranoid, and he was just focused on his meal? I couldn’t help but think his reaction was because she had been someone special. If so, then why hadn’t I ever seen her before? I knew everyone Austin dated.
The real question was why I cared.
I’d watched Austin go through almost as many partners as I had, and never had I ever felt this burning need to know more. Not even about the few he’d dated for a few months. So, why now? Why her?
“Oh, wow. That’s amazing, Aubrey,” a voice said, bringing me out of my ruminations. One of the men who’d insulted me earlier smiled at Aubrey like she’d discovered world peace.
“It’s nothing much. I have some time, so why not donate it to the underprivileged. It’s a relatively simple bioinformatics app that we make for bigger companies all the time. I ran into Candace, the pediatrician from the hospital, at a conference, and we hit it off. She told me her story, and I offered to help.”
That sharp jab from earlier landed more like a fierce blow as I watched everyone fall over her every word. My teeth clamped shut so hard I was worried they’d snap as I remembered the way they laughed at my involvement with my parents’ charity.
I didn’t like this feeling. Aubrey hadn’t done anything to me, yet I wouldn’t mind tripping her on our way out. I didn’t like the petty urge to see her fall. It wasn’t me. I was a woman who prided myself on supporting others’ wins.
“Did I hear correctly that you know Austin?” Jeremy asked.
She glanced his way with a small smile. “Yes, we met our senior year at college. We had a computer science class together.”
“Really?” The question popped out before I could stop it. I looked to Austin, but his eyes focused on the fork he dragged through the leftover cheesecake on his plate.
“What a small world. Did you know you both would be here?” Jeremy asked before Aubrey could answer my outburst.
“Oh, no.” She waved it away like it was silly. “We lost touch a while ago after dating for a while.”
“Dating?” Again, the word slipped without permission. The last thing I wanted was to encourage this conversation, and yet, I couldn’t shut up. “I thought I knew everyone you dated,” I said to Austin, who still wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“Well, we were actually engaged after college, but you know…sometimes things just don’t work out.”
“Oh.” The word slipped so quietly I was surprised she heard it.
The fierce blow in my chest was now like a train knocking the wind from my lungs. It hit so hard I couldn’t even figure out where it came from. What was this?
“Sorry,” she winced, somehow still looking stunning. “This is probably weird.”
Digging myself up off the ground, I used the etiquette ingrained in me to hold myself upright and force a smile. “Not at all. We all have pasts.”
“You can say that again,” one of the wives muttered, eliciting a round of laughter.
It was enough to break the attention from the three of us, and conversation moved on to nothing worth paying attention to. I couldn’t have paid attention even if I tried. A storm of unknown thoughts and feelings raged through me, and I hated it. I liked relationships cut and dry. I liked my friendships honest and loyal, and this felt like a betrayal.
But it wasn’t really, and I didn’t know how to merge the feeling with the facts. It was as if a piece of the puzzle was missing. I knew I had it, but it stayed hidden from me, and it only served to make my frustration grow.