Remembrance of Things Past--Part II
Three weeks after the invitation was sent out, Michael got a phone call. It was Saturday, and he was sitting on the couch, watching a Thomas the Tank Engine marathon on PBS with David. The monotone voice of the conductor narrator on the show was enough to put Michael to sleep, but the continuous jabs in the side from David every time Thomas made an appearance kept him awake.
When he heard the phone ring, he was thankful for the distraction. But it lasted all of two seconds as he glanced at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Ryan? That you?” Michael asked on the other end.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
The required small talk between the two only lasted a few minutes. It’d been five years since he’d seen Michael. Ryan wasn’t really sure what to say at all. He listened to Michael talk about his job, about house hunting with Chelsea, and about how great everything seemed to be going for him. He tried to join into the conversation, but his brain wouldn’t let his mouth speak.
“Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“You still there?” Michael asked.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. For a minute there, I thought we had a bad connection.”
Bad connection was one way to put it. With an awkward silence looming between the two phones, Ryan decided to mention the wedding. “I got the invitation in the mail,” he said.
“About the wedding.”
“Great!” Michael said. “I was wondering about that.”
“Yeah. It came in the mail a few weeks ago.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Michael said. “I know it’s late, and I promise that you don’t have to do any of the honorary duties, aside from holding the ring at the wedding, but will you be my best man?”
A five-ton weight just dropped on his stomach. His mouth felt like cotton. “Michael…”
“I know it’s asking a lot,” Michael said. “I do. But I need a Best Man, and that’s you. You’re my best friend.”
“We haven’t seen each other in five years.”
“Which isn’t my fault.”
“Oh, so it’s mine?”
“Ryan, I left you umpteen messages. It’s not my fault you don’t know how to return any of them.”
Michael did leave him messages. There were a lot at first, during the first few years while Michael was at college. But Ryan was busy with a job at the factory, taking care of a baby, and attending a few night classes in between. Ryan picked up the phone several times, wanting to call him back, but he never had anything to say. “Michael, I don’t know.”
“It wouldn’t be right, getting married without you there.”
“I haven’t seen Chelsea since—”
“Graduation. I know. But she wants you at the wedding. You and Nikki both. You’re family.”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said again.
“Look,” Michael said. “I know it’s complicated. I was here too. But if you’re not going to come to the wedding for me, then at least do it for Chelsea. She’s never asked anything of you, before of after, and you at least owe her that much.”
Ryan didn’t go to the wedding.
He tried. He really did. He tried to pack a suitcase, tried to prepare for the week of festivities that were going to lead up to the big day but when it came down to it, Ryan couldn’t make himself drive the day long car trip home. He did, however, manage to drive to the post office, where he put their wedding gift—a blender from Crate & Barrel—in a box and had it mailed to their house with a note, apologizing about not being able to come.
A few days later, Ryan’s telephone rang again. He didn’t get so much of a “hello” out before he heard her voice.
“You’re such a coward.”
“Chelsea, please,” Ryan said.
“No. You don’t get to talk. I just wanted to let you know that you’re a coward.”
He tried to say something, tried to come up with a better explanation, but Chelsea already hung up the phone. Not that Ryan deserved the chance to explain. After all, he backed out on a wedding and sent a blender in his place. But Nikki refused to go, and going alone wasn’t going to work either.
“Nikki,” Ryan said at dinner later.
She looked at him. “Yes?”
“Maybe we should go,” he said. “I mean…”
“No.”
“But she’s your—”
“I don’t care what she is,” Nikki said. “No one supported us. I’m just returning the favor.” Rubbing his temples, he sat in silence, watching as Nikki scooped a glop of mashed potatoes onto David’s plate. “We apologized until we were blue in the face, and got nothing.”
“Apologized for what?” David asked.
“Nothing,” Ryan and Nikki said in unison.
When he heard the phone ring, he was thankful for the distraction. But it lasted all of two seconds as he glanced at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Ryan? That you?” Michael asked on the other end.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
The required small talk between the two only lasted a few minutes. It’d been five years since he’d seen Michael. Ryan wasn’t really sure what to say at all. He listened to Michael talk about his job, about house hunting with Chelsea, and about how great everything seemed to be going for him. He tried to join into the conversation, but his brain wouldn’t let his mouth speak.
“Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“You still there?” Michael asked.
“Yeah.”
“Oh. For a minute there, I thought we had a bad connection.”
Bad connection was one way to put it. With an awkward silence looming between the two phones, Ryan decided to mention the wedding. “I got the invitation in the mail,” he said.
“About the wedding.”
“Great!” Michael said. “I was wondering about that.”
“Yeah. It came in the mail a few weeks ago.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Michael said. “I know it’s late, and I promise that you don’t have to do any of the honorary duties, aside from holding the ring at the wedding, but will you be my best man?”
A five-ton weight just dropped on his stomach. His mouth felt like cotton. “Michael…”
“I know it’s asking a lot,” Michael said. “I do. But I need a Best Man, and that’s you. You’re my best friend.”
“We haven’t seen each other in five years.”
“Which isn’t my fault.”
“Oh, so it’s mine?”
“Ryan, I left you umpteen messages. It’s not my fault you don’t know how to return any of them.”
Michael did leave him messages. There were a lot at first, during the first few years while Michael was at college. But Ryan was busy with a job at the factory, taking care of a baby, and attending a few night classes in between. Ryan picked up the phone several times, wanting to call him back, but he never had anything to say. “Michael, I don’t know.”
“It wouldn’t be right, getting married without you there.”
“I haven’t seen Chelsea since—”
“Graduation. I know. But she wants you at the wedding. You and Nikki both. You’re family.”
“I don’t know,” Ryan said again.
“Look,” Michael said. “I know it’s complicated. I was here too. But if you’re not going to come to the wedding for me, then at least do it for Chelsea. She’s never asked anything of you, before of after, and you at least owe her that much.”
Ryan didn’t go to the wedding.
He tried. He really did. He tried to pack a suitcase, tried to prepare for the week of festivities that were going to lead up to the big day but when it came down to it, Ryan couldn’t make himself drive the day long car trip home. He did, however, manage to drive to the post office, where he put their wedding gift—a blender from Crate & Barrel—in a box and had it mailed to their house with a note, apologizing about not being able to come.
A few days later, Ryan’s telephone rang again. He didn’t get so much of a “hello” out before he heard her voice.
“You’re such a coward.”
“Chelsea, please,” Ryan said.
“No. You don’t get to talk. I just wanted to let you know that you’re a coward.”
He tried to say something, tried to come up with a better explanation, but Chelsea already hung up the phone. Not that Ryan deserved the chance to explain. After all, he backed out on a wedding and sent a blender in his place. But Nikki refused to go, and going alone wasn’t going to work either.
“Nikki,” Ryan said at dinner later.
She looked at him. “Yes?”
“Maybe we should go,” he said. “I mean…”
“No.”
“But she’s your—”
“I don’t care what she is,” Nikki said. “No one supported us. I’m just returning the favor.” Rubbing his temples, he sat in silence, watching as Nikki scooped a glop of mashed potatoes onto David’s plate. “We apologized until we were blue in the face, and got nothing.”
“Apologized for what?” David asked.
“Nothing,” Ryan and Nikki said in unison.
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