Chapter 42: And So It Goes

August 20, 1983

“Well, here we go,” said Dennis with a laugh. “We may be about to make complete asses out of ourselves. But either way, it should be one hell of an interesting time.”

It was around eleven-thirty in the morning; the wedding ceremony was scheduled to get underway at one o’clock. Dennis was behind the wheel of his car, with me in the passenger seat. We were on our way over to Mayra’s place to pick up our dates. Both of us were of course wearing suits; I chose to comment on the rarity of that occurrence.

“You know when was the last time I wore a suit? At high school graduation.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Dennis said in reply. “I don’t go back that far. I went to a funeral once. I think it was last summer.” We both cracked up.

“Wedding, funeral ... what’s the difference?” I joshed, as we both laughed even harder.

As we approached our destination, Dennis suddenly grew quieter. I got the impression that he was actually more nervous than I was. I was quite amazed at my own mental equanimity, given how much was likely at stake over the next several hours.

It was Mayra who answered the door after I rang the bell. Decked out in a red dress, her hair all done up, she looked very nice. Dennis certainly thought so. The two of them exchanged a wet kiss there on the doorstep, and started making googly eyes at each other. Poking fun at these two lovebirds was something I did at every opportunity.

“Sugar alert,” I cackled. “This place might as well be a freakin’ refinery.”

Mayra just giggled. Dennis looked at me sideways.

“One of these days, amigo,” he cracked, “the shoe will be on the other foot. And when it is, payback will be a bitch.”

I just shrugged. It was Mayra who spoke next, as she led us inside.

“Inez is still upstairs,” she informed me. “She’s not quite ready, but she’ll be down in a minute.”

I had been expecting the Andrade house to contain nothing but the Andrade family, plus Inez. But that was not the case. There were upwards of thirty people in the living room, all of them female, ranging in age from teenage to elderly. A few children of both sexes were running around. The chatter around me was almost exclusively in Spanish. At that point, Señora Andrade came over and greeted me, while Mayra grabbed Dennis’ hand and pulled him away, introducing him to all in attendance.

Señora Andrade explained to me what had happened. At the bride’s house, they were in the middle of an elaborate photo shoot. This was a large wedding, with about two hundred guests, with many people coming in from out of town, and a fair number coming all the way from Puerto Rico. The visiting womenfolk had congregated at the bride’s home, but had been asked to relocate themselves by the photographers. And so, they’d come over to the Andrade residence. I assumed that their male significant others and sons had gone elsewhere.

Ever the gracious hostess, Señora Andrade introduced me to several of the guests, some of whom I unfortunately couldn’t speak with due to the language barrier. I took the wrong language in high school, I chided myself, as I briefly recalled my struggles with French. I definitely got the feeling that the women were talking and gossiping about me. I saw quite a few smiles aimed in my direction. I heard Inez’s name mentioned several times, and my ears kept picking up the phrase “muy guapo”. I made a mental note to ask Inez about it later. I found the attention quite flattering, and took it in stride; this was one instance where my life experience came in handy.

Then, I felt a couple of soft female hands covering my eyes from behind. “Guess who?” said a voice. I put my own hands around both of her wrists, pulled the hands away from my eyes, and turned around. And I beheld my date.

Ooh la la.

Inez stood before me in a simple yet breathtaking black dress. Her shoulders were bare; the dress was held up by thin straps. Her feet were adorned with open-toed black high heels. Her lovely face was made up to perfection, and her wondrous hair appeared more full and lush than ever. And she was wearing that same smile, which always contained a slight trace of mischievousness, that I’d become so fond of. I tried to count the number of times she’d rendered me spellbound with her beauty. In the very recent past, she’d made my jaw drop as a sexy bombshell. Now, she’d charmed me with class and elegance.

Many twenty-year-olds would prefer to wait for a private moment to tell a date how beautiful she looks. I did no such thing. Putting my life experience to good use once again, I expressed my feelings on the matter right in front of everyone.

“You look stunning,” I told her simply.

“Thank you, Pat,” she replied a little self-consciously, appearing touched. A few ooh’s and aah’s were uttered by those in attendance who understood my compliment. It was quickly translated for those who didn’t, and it wasn’t long before the teasing began. Of course, I couldn’t understand a word of it, but a laughing yet very embarrassed Inez began addressing the onslaught in rapid-fire Spanish. Luckily for her, Mayra and Dennis showed up, and told us both that they wanted to head over to the church. They went outside ahead of us.

As soon as we got out the front door, I asked Inez, “So, what does ‘muy guapo’ mean?”

She giggled in response. “Who said that to you?”

“I must have heard it six or seven times while I was waiting for you,” I explained with a chuckle.

Giggling even more, she told me, “Loosely translated, it means handsome. And they’re right. You are ‘muy guapo’.” She reached up with both of her hands, and slightly adjusted my tie. “I promise I’ll translate everything for you today. I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable for you.”

“Not at all,” I assured her. “It was actually a lot of fun. Tell me this, though. What were they saying to you after I complimented you on how you look?”

“I’ll translate everything,” she said with a grin, “except for that.”

“Pleeeeease?” I pleaded. But she wouldn’t give in.

The four of us arrived at the church well ahead of the ceremony. It was a Catholic ceremony, with a full Mass, done in both English and Spanish. I knew that, like me, Inez had attended Catholic schools. We’d talked about that before. But I was surprised to observe that she knew by heart all of the verbal responses during Mass. That would certainly endear her to Mom and Dad, I thought. My first reaction to that thought, borne of biases that were breathing their last, was to suppress it. However, my second reaction, and the one that emerged victorious, was to take that thought and chew on it for several minutes.

After the ceremony, we went through the receiving line, where Inez introduced me to the newlyweds. We met up again with Dennis and Mayra, piled into Dennis’ car, and it was off to the reception. We ended up sitting at a table with Mayra’s parents, and Lisette. Food was served in short order. After everyone had their fill, and before the music started, there was a short interlude that most of the guests used for socializing. Everyone got up from our table, except for Inez and me. Up to that point, Inez had not left my side since I first saw her at the Andrade house.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she told me sincerely. “I’d be kinda bored right now if you weren’t.”

“I’m glad to be here,” I told her with a smile. “It’s been a day to remember.”

“Let’s see if you still feel that way after the dancing starts,” Inez laughed.

Just then, Señora Andrade reappeared at our table, checking on the two of us, making sure we didn’t feel left out. Convinced that we were fine by ourselves, she resumed making her rounds.

“She’s one of a kind,” said Inez with a smile, meaning it as the highest of compliments. I nodded in agreement. “Then again,” she went on, “she is my mother’s sister.”

“That reminds me. How’s your mom doing?” I asked Inez.

“I just talked to her earlier today. She’ll have her last physical therapy session a couple of weeks from now. She’s pretty much back to normal.” It appeared that not only had her parents survived the accident in this timeline, they both would have no lasting ill effects from it.

A few seconds of quiet passed by. I caught Inez looking at me intently.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I said softly.

She showed me an ambiguous half-smile, before clarifying things. “It’s incredible ... how much you and I have been through together.” All I could do was nod in total agreement.

Even more than you know, I thought.

And then, the music started, and an infectious salsa beat reverberated throughout the ballroom.

Inez sprang to her feet immediately. She grabbed me by the hand and attempted to pull me up from the chair.

“Come on, you,” she said with an evil laugh. “It’s time to dance.”

I tagged along after her as she headed for the dance floor. I looked across, and saw Mayra doing almost the same thing with Dennis. He, however, appeared to be a more reluctant participant than me.

Out on the dance floor, both Inez and me were in hysterics as we watched Dennis. His attempts at dancing were hilariously bad. So, at first, were mine. But I am, after all, a musician. I have some semblance of a natural rhythm. And as I watched everyone else, I caught on quickly. Inez certainly noticed.

“Hey,” she said teasingly, “have you been holding out on me?”

“Not at all,” I assured her. I couldn’t resist stealing admiring glances at the sensuous way that she moved her body. She, of course, was a wonderful dancer. I guess that shouldn’t have surprised me, but I’d discovered one more neat thing about her.

Dennis had already thrown in the towel. He laughed, threw his hands up in the air, and started to walk away, as a similarly laughing Mayra tried to direct him back toward the dance floor.

There were very few Anglo males in attendance. And there was only one left on the dance floor. It made me quite the novelty, apparently. All of a sudden, several women approached Inez, wanting to switch off with her. Inez smiled broadly, patted me on the shoulder, and told me, “I think I’ll take a little break. Have fun.” Then she looked at the women, and pointed at me, as if to say, “He’s all yours ... for now.”

I don’t know how many different dance partners I had after that. Young, old, in between, you name it. I was quite worried about Inez feeling jealous. A quick glance over at her, once again seated at our table, told me that was not an issue. In fact, she was continuing to smile, almost deliriously. Eventually, I broke away and went over to her.

“I don’t want to be rude to them,” I told Inez, “but I came here to dance with my date.”

“How sweet,” she told me with a smile, before re-joining me on the dance floor.

“It doesn’t bother you ... me dancing with almost every single female in attendance?” I asked her with a laugh.

“I love it. They’re paying me the highest of compliments. And there’s another thing I love about it, too.” As she uttered the last sentence, a look of tender affection, seemingly directed at me, flashed across her face.

“What other thing?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she explained, “when we’re alone.”

By this time, a few more prospective dance partners had shown up. Inez just laughed, and once again left me to fend for myself.

At this point, I was worn out. Even Señora Andrade and Lisette took turns as my dance partner. Finally, I voiced out loud one of the few Spanish phrases I knew: “No mas.” I laughed, and went over to join Inez.

Not long after that, the salsa portion of the proceedings drew to a close, as the party neared its conclusion. The DJ put one last record on the turntable. Quite predictably, it was a slow, romantic song. I didn’t recognize it at all; it was by a male vocalist, sung in Spanish.

Inez possessively grabbed my hand, as I led her out onto the dance floor. There was no way she would let anyone else have this dance with me. And there was no way I’d ever give it to anyone else but her.

We moved in close and began to sway gently to the music, my arms down around her waist, hers up around my shoulders. The closeness was intoxicating. I tried to make small talk, but that only delayed the inevitable. It wasn’t long before our eyes became locked. They drew me in, those eyes of hers ... the ones that captivated me whenever they graced my presence, and the ones that increasingly brightened my thoughts and dreams when they didn’t. Now, with our faces a mere inches apart, I saw something in those eyes; something deep and long-lasting, which confirmed the notion that my sister had expressed to me that night when we’d talked in my car.

I could have kissed her. I wanted to kiss her. And Inez was sending out overwhelming signals that she was receptive.

And at the worst possible time, it happened again.

A mental image of an older, ugly, bitter harpy infiltrated my brain for just a second. The effect on me was brutal, and devastating. Mercifully, I didn’t flinch this time, shielding Inez from its full effect. But it was enough to cause me to hesitate for a few seconds, which allowed something else to occur, one capable in and of itself of disrupting a romantic atmosphere.

The song ended.

Inez appeared confused as we left the dance floor. Before we could talk about it, Dennis and Mayra joined us. Right after that, Señor and Señora Andrade approached us to say goodnight. They were heading over to a friend’s house for some late-night socializing. Lisette joined Dennis, Mayra, Inez and myself as we all packed into Dennis’ car, and rode back to Mayra’s house.

We found Evie waiting for us there. She wanted to see us all in our formal attire, and snapped a few pictures. But we didn’t stay long. Inez, of course, rode back with Evie to their apartment, while I went with Dennis. I did give Inez a goodnight kiss ... on the cheek, in deference to all present. But even more than that, it was because all of the air had been let out of the romantic balloon. Inez glanced back at me as she walked out the door, her expression one of sadness and bewilderment.

Dennis started in on me the second we got into his car.

“That was one hell of a steamy slow dance, dude,” he laughed. “Kind of confirms something I’ve suspected for a while now. It looks like I’m not the only one in this car with a thing for Puerto Rican women.”

I just didn’t want to get into it right then. I muttered some lame trash about going to the wedding with Inez as “just friends.” Dennis, of course, wasn’t buying it.

“Bullshit,” he told me. “You should see the way you start grinning like a fool whenever someone mentions Inez’s name. Face it, buddy. You got it bad.” Dennis, thus, joined a lengthening list of friends, acquaintances, and family members who held that particular opinion.

Back at the apartment, Dennis hung around for about five minutes and then split. Naturally, he was heading right back to Mayra’s place; they had some special plans of their own.

I went into my room and closed the door. I brought out my journal. After sitting there, completely zoned out, for a few minutes, I put the journal away. This was no time for writing. This was a time for soul-searching. And I started throwing out question after question.

Exactly what had just happened? And going forward, what did it mean?

Why couldn’t I shake an irrational worry that was complicating my life to a ridiculous extent? Actually, never mind my life. It was Inez I was worried about. In a sense, I’d been playing her like a yo-yo of late. That had to stop. She deserved better.

So, what I needed to do was get inside my thick skull something that, to me, was intellectually obvious. Things were different with Inez in this timeline. Period. Her parents had survived the accident. She was going to college. All of her dreams were intact. Why assume that everything was destined to go to hell for her again, when in fact, that was an incredibly negative and unrealistic point of view?

I was living in this timeline. I’d used that same phrase as advice for Inez herself, and Evie too, not very long ago. I’d portrayed myself as some kind of a time-travel doctor. Well, as the expression goes ... physician, heal thyself. It was a matter of convincing myself that the other Inez held no relevance here.

And anyway, why was I so concerned about what Inez might be like twenty years from now? I considered the situation with Julia. With Julia, I lived only in the present. We never talked about the future, not even once. There, plain as the nose on my face, was one of the flaws in that relationship that Evie had told me I’d spot some day. It was, as Inez herself had said to me, “that whole being in love with love thing.” It had been love with a state, not a person.

But when it came to Inez, not only was I concerned with the future, I was obsessed with it. Why?

There was a single-word answer to that question. And I’d just voiced it in my mind more than once.

Love.

And this time, with a person, not a state.

Once I acknowledged that to myself, I experienced an epiphany. My ridiculous fear ran away and left, once and for all, never to return.

How easy was that?

I reflected now upon why I felt as I did. In the time I’d known Inez in this life, the degree of support and caring she’d shown to me was truly special. Yes, I’d certainly done a lot for her, as well. But her actions, though less dramatic, were no less real. It was likely that without her support, I wouldn’t even be a member of Lightning in a Bottle. I’d given her plenty of reason to hate me, but she’d still championed my reinstatement, even when the others had serious doubts about it. And the way she’d gone to bat for me against Dave and Paul, flashing an uncharacteristic display of anger, taking fierce personal offense at the way they’d slighted me – I would never forget that.