“I’m totally calling him Hemorrhoid Head all day tomorrow.” Drew leans over and whispers to me. “I know he’s been stressed about the wedding, but I didn’t realize it would cause ass itching under his eyes.”
Jim’s mom hears Drew and gives him a stern look that instantly wipes the smile off of his face.
“Andrew, it is well documented that this type of cream can reduce puffiness under one’s eyes. Very effective when one needs to have their pictures taken,” she states primly.
“Also very funny when one’s eyes now have anal leakage,” Drew says under his breath.
“Jim, before you leave tonight remind me to give you the magazine photos of the two different floral arches for you to look at. You’ll just need to tell the florist which one you want her to use at the reception tomorrow when she delivers the boutonnières,” Liz’s mom adds.
Jim is right. This woman is a walking, talking wedding robot.
“Jesus Christ, do it already before she starts talking about wedding favors and I grow a vagina,” Jim begs in a low whisper.
I give him a nod to let him know I'm ready. A big grin breaks across his face as he completely ignores Weddingbot 2000 and signals our waitress while Claire is busy discussing the difference between good words and bad words with Gavin.
Jim and I had met with the manager of the restaurant and our waitress the day before to go over the plan for the evening. The waitress will bring over a tray of champagne for everyone at the table as soon as she is given the signal. At the bottom of Claire’s glass will be the engagement ring I had dropped off this afternoon when I ran out to pick up Gavin’s and my tux.
I couldn’t believe it was finally time to do this. I am going to propose to the woman of my dreams who I thought I’d never see again after our one night in college.
The waitress is back and has served almost half the table their glasses of champagne. I figure it's now or never.
I reach down and clasp Claire’s hand that rests on my thigh, bringing it up to my lips, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.
When she feels my lips on her hand, she turns to look at me.
“I love you so much, Claire,” I say softly as I see the waitress move closer and closer to us out of the corner of my eye.
“I love you too, Carter,” she replies with a smile.
The waitress only has two more people to serve before she gets to us. I know I need to speed things up a bit if I want to time everything just right.
“Oh my gosh, wait until you hear what Jenny said to me earlier. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you,” Claire says as she leans in closer to me and glances over my shoulder to make sure Jenny isn’t listening.
I look behind me as well and see the waitress rounding the table, heading right for us. I need to be down on my knee when she places Claire’s glass in front of her.
Shit!
“Claire, hold that thought. I have something I need to say.”
She completely ignores me and turns sideways in her chair so she can face me and get closer.
“Wait, this is really good! You’re going to love this,” she says excitedly as my foot starts bouncing frantically on the floor when I see the waitress stop right behind Claire to say something to Gavin. “Okay, so Jenny said Drew’s been acting funny lately. Talking about weddings and marriage proposals and asking her hypothetical questions like, ‘If I were to propose to you, what would you want me to say?’ Drew is so damn obvious.”
I look back at Claire, barely registering what she is saying and wondering if it's bad manners to tell her to shut the hell up right before I ask her to marry me.
“Huh? What did you say?” I ask her as she continues to talk and I miss the last few sentences.
“I said Jenny thinks Drew is going to propose to her tonight. Can you believe that shit?”
My head slowly turns to face her, my mouth falling open in shock, the waitress with the champagne long forgotten.
“Drew? Propose? Tonight?”
Fuckshitballdamn!
“I know, right? First of all, they haven’t been together that long and second – who the hell proposes at someone else’s rehearsal dinner? That’s in poor taste if you ask me. You’re taking the spotlight off of the soon-to-be-married couple and putting it on you. It’s like a slap in the face to them. Like, ‘Oh hey, look at me! I’m an asshole and want all eyes on me instead of the two people they should be on! Ha ha, I’m such an asshole, who has a camera to document my assholeness for all of eternity?’” Claire says with a laugh and a shake of her head for the imaginary asshole in her mind.
Except I'm the asshole! I'm the mother fucking asshole!
An arm slides between our bodies and in the haze of my asshole pity party, I realize there is a champagne glass attached to the end of it. I literally feel my brain shutting down. I hear a computerized voice in there counting backwards from five and feel like I'm in the movie “The Hurt Locker” and don’t know whether to cut the red or the blue wire.
The red or the blue?? THE RED OR THE MOTHER FUCKING BLUE?!