Hope Remains

“Did Tenzin leave you?” The groom asks in genuine concern as he comes up beside me.

This is his wedding day. He shouldn’t be worrying about me, I mentally scoff.

Not that I would ever say that to his face.

Then again, he and his new bride have been making their rounds, thanking everyone for coming. They made ample time to gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, either on the dance floor or together at the bar, but about every third song or so, they would part ways to see their guests for a song or two. Guess it was just my turn.

Thinking about his question, I nod but don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. He wouldn’t understand even if I could explain.

To my husband, I was nothing but a nuisance. To his best friend and the man standing before me now, I was the supportive wife who hated crowds and got overwhelmed when I didn’t exactly know anyone. Prime example, being here at his wedding reception as I am leaning against the wall and avoiding all social interaction.

Wordlessly, he nods and hands over a mason jar which was filled to the brim with his home-brewed apple pie moonshine. It also happens to be what he gifted his groomsmen.

I know arguing with him when it comes to liquor is pointless, so I obediently take a sip. It’s strong and delicious yet hides the alcohol well. It smells strongly of cinnamon but tastes more like a sweet apple smothered in butter and brown sugar, then drizzled with melted vanilla ice cream.

After careful consideration, I conclude that it’s an even balance of apples and cinnamon, neither overpowering the other, but they work together to coat the taste buds. I like it more than an actual slice of apple pie. It goes down smoothly and does not burn my eyes, throat, or nose. I don’t feel like gagging, and I could easily get in trouble with a drink like this.

In fact, I’m certain the alcohol content is almost double -if not triple- what the recipe calls for. However, because there is cinnamon in this concoction, I know that Tenzin won’t drink his. Which means I’ll have this dangerous drink under my roof. Not that I would dare drink it; I have other responsibilities.

“Take a larger sip. Settle your nerves,” the groom orders sternly as I try to hand back the mason jar.

I eye him warily but follow directions. David Burke has always been one for the party scene. The more wild and crazy it is, the better it is. I know he’ll stand guard, making me take more sips -each one increasing in size- until I finish this potent drink or until he’s happy with my show. It doesn’t matter if I finish the drink, sipping on it throughout the night. He only cares about what happens right now in this moment. Anything you may have consumed before this point doesn’t matter; he likes the show. So, I take two large gulps.

Now that this jar of moonshine is a little more than halfway gone, I know I’m going to be feeling the effects later. I hope that was enough to appease him. Cautiously, I return it to him. Thankfully, he smiles and nods his head approvingly.

“There you go. Hit up the bar. Order a drink or two. You deserve them. Have some fun. Tenzin can give me flack later if he has an issue with it. The only time I have seen you loosen up is when you got drunk at your wedding. I gave him so much grief for not believing him when he said he was going to get married, and I’m glad it wasn’t a lie. You are the best thing that has ever happened to him.”

"I know. You said so when you saved our wedding with your speech. I’ve never forgotten. And you learned from us. We're not outside as hell freezes over," I remark.

"Hell wouldn't freeze for me! I'm an angel! But it did freeze over during your wedding! It snowed in June, and we all froze to our spots! It's September now. At least it would make sense if we had a change in the weather now! Seriously, though. Go have fun, Pen. I don’t want to see you miss your chance to let loose since you don’t have the kids right now. Come on! Do something wild.”

“Thank you, David. By the way, that is delicious and dangerous,” I remark, pointing toward the mason jar.

Already, it feels like my blood is heating up. He smirks proudly.

“Let me know if you need more. I saved a few gallons of it. Probably one of my best batches,” he boasts.

“I'd believe it. I’m so happy for you and Cheryl with this next chapter of your lives. Tenzin and I are both proud of you. We wish you many years of happiness together, and we’re just so excited that you finally tied the knot,” I ramble.

David chuckles and hugs me.

“Me too. I’m just glad you could make it out. You’re a great mom, but it’s nice to see you without those little ones on your hip and ankles. I’ll see you around, Penny,” he says as his bride comes back into the dance hall, and all his focus turns to her.

I grin as David hands off his drink to one of his friends and immediately goes over to her and kisses her passionately. They are a beautiful couple. This marriage was long awaited by many, including myself. They've been dating since my wedding, and we had just celebrated our eighth year together.

“I hope it lasts. No, I hope your love always remains strong and true,” I mumble under my breath as I stay away from the bulk of the crowd on the dance floor.

Still unable to find my husband to hang out with, I take the groom’s advice and make my way to the bar. My head is still on a swivel like I’m looking for my kids, but it’s not the case. True, I don’t know what to do with myself when the kids are not around, but I’m not looking for them. I know this. I am mainly just trying to avoid being touched at all.

The group of men behind me keep laughing loudly, and the two women who are three spots in front of me keep looking back seductively at them. While the couple and their third wheel in front of me keep shoving each other because -based on what I’m getting from their body language- the couple wants to make out but the third wheel wants to talk to his friend. I cross my arms, look down, and shuffle my feet. I do not want to be in the middle of any one of those things. Whatever that might be.

Another round of laughter behind me causes me to jump and hold on tighter to my body, but I don’t know why. I was invisible to all of them and obviously not part of their conversations. So, nothing they said could have alarmed me. Not that I would have been able to hear it anyway. We are practically next to the speakers, which means I can only hear the music. After twenty minutes of waiting in line, it’s finally my turn to get a drink. Noting it’s only a basic bar, I keep my order simple too, calling out the first thing I see.

“Pendleton and 7up,” I order with a smile as I pull out my ID.

The bartender nods and quickly makes my drink, but doesn’t take my money as he moves to the next person. I raise my eyebrow, asking the silent question. I thought this wasn’t an open bar event. When the bartender still refuses to acknowledge my presence, I shrug.

“Thank you,” I insist as I lay the $5 on the counter and walk away.

If anything, he at least deserves a tip for quickly getting to all the wedding guests. The table where my children, in-laws, and I ate dinner -and where I just came from- is full of people I don’t recognize. I believe they are mostly from the bride’s side of the family, but I don’t know for sure. I’m not comfortable talking to strangers, so I quickly look around the room.

The groom’s father is making a drunken fool out of himself on the other side of the room. I scowl and make my way toward an empty, back table, away from people and those who would draw attention to themselves and, therefore, me. Quietly, I sit down, scattering my belongings to be within arm’s reach, but far enough away if I accidentally spill my drink: it’s been known to happen before.

From this position, I can see everyone, and it’s less likely to be surprised or snuck up on. I count the cyan dresses that stand out on the dance floor. Only five out of the seven bridesmaids are dancing right now. Most of them are paired up with whom I believe to be their significant others. The other two are practically lip-locking while leaning against the head table.

Did Cheryl put a gay couple in her wedding party? Good for her. Oh! The next thing I note is that they move to the dance floor, bring a drunken man between them, and grind on him while all three take turns exchanging saliva. I look away in disgust, but I’m embarrassed by their crude behavior. A woman should never act like that in public.

But who am I to judge? I don’t know them or their stories. I can just tell they are having a good time.

Seven songs have played, and I have yet to take my eyes off the dance floor. Four groomsmen in the cyan vests and the three ushers in their royal blue vests are also busting their moves out there. Which means three men from the wedding party are missing.

My husband is also a groomsman, but he didn’t even dress up for our wedding. I considered myself lucky that I got him to at least wear a clean, plaid shirt with a pair of new blue jeans for our wedding.

Seeing him dressed up in the fancy wedding attire today was a wonderful surprise for me. For a man who never dressed up, it suited him and pleased me. Of course, I shouldn’t expect to be pleased by him. I’m lucky just to have him, and he reminds me of that all the time.

Unfortunately, at this moment, he appears to be the only groomsman who is nowhere to be seen as two more groomsmen walk back into the dance hall from different doors. I sigh, look at my drink, and reluctantly take a sip of my drink.

It’s not quite what I expected, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust. Another sip or two, and I should be used to the taste. Or maybe I should count my loss and find David for more of his moonshine. At least I know I like that. Unfortunately, as my husband would say, I'm just too picky. It probably would make things so much easier if I at least could tolerate the taste of beer or wine. Yet here I am, barely tolerating the harder spirits.