She leans back in her chair. "You’re welcome," she says, and I look at her. "I made sure that I booked you this afternoon off." My mouth hangs open. "You are going on forty-five days in a row of work."
"Forty-seven." I walk to the counter. "But hey, who’s counting?" I lean on the counter. "I love my job." I close my eyes, and I swear I could probably fall asleep sitting in a chair.
"You have mail." Donna points at the stack of letters that sit at the end of the counter. I just nod at her, grabbing the pile of letters. Looking down at the first one, I then slowly move my finger to flip to the second.
"Thank you." I keep flipping one after another. The big white square one catches my attention. I stop and see my name addressed on the front of it. Dr. Harlow Barnes.
"Looks like a wedding invitation," Donna says, and I turn it. My heart stops in my chest, and I’m finding it so hard to breathe. My hands drop everything else while I run my finger under the little sticker at the end.
Pulling out the white card, I can’t move. My breaths come out almost in pants, and I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience when I see the words written at the top of the white card in purple writing.
You are cordially invited to the wedding of
Travis Baker & Jennifer Garner
My feet automatically move across the floor toward my office. "Are you all right?" Donna asks, and I mechanically nod my head up and down.
"You can take off." My voice comes out without cracking, and I’m even shocked. The lump forms in my throat as I close the door behind me. My eyes never leave the top of the invitation. "He’s getting married," I say the words out loud, the pain in my chest throbbing. "Oh my God." I grab my cell phone and call my cousin, Amelia, who answers after one ring.
"Hello," she says, and I can hear her kids in the background.
"Hey," I reply, and my voice cracks finally. "You will never guess what I just got." I blink away the tears, but one of them escapes and runs down my cheek. "You’ll never guess," I say, sniffling, and I can hear a door close in the background, and it goes quiet.
"Where are you?" she huffs, and I can hear her moving fast and then the slam of a car door.
I close my eyes, listening to her start the car. "I’m in my office." I lean back in my chair, my eyes still closed.
"I’ll be there in five." She disconnects, and I’m not sure I would be able to move anyway.
The phone drops from my hand, and I wonder if this is really happening or if it’s a bad dream. It has to be a bad dream. Why in the world would this happen? I pick up my phone and text Rachel.
Me: Did you get something in the mail today?
I don’t know how fast she will get back to me. In the past four years, the four of us have kept in touch. We usually see each other every couple of years, but I’ve kept in touch with Rachel almost monthly.
My phone rings in my hand, and I look down to see it’s Rachel. "Hello," I answer, putting it on speakerphone.
"Please tell me you did not get a wedding invitation to his wedding!” she shrieks out. I can just imagine her face right now, and I laugh but it comes out with a sob. "Jesus Christ, why the fuck would he invite you to his wedding?"
"I have no idea," I say. "The last time I saw him was when he broke up with me," I lie. The actual last time I saw him was the day before I left to come home. I stupidly took one more walk to his place and saw him walking out. His head was down, and he had a hat on his head. Sunglasses hid his eyes. My heart sank to my feet, and I turned around and cried the rest of the way home.
"Lydia just texted that she got the invitation also," Rachel says. "And from what she is saying, so did Victoria."
"I just don’t understand it," I finally say out loud. "Why the fuck would he invite me to his wedding?"
"I have no idea," she says, huffing out and then laughing. "But I know that if there is ever a time for some sweet tea, it’s now."
"That sounds like a great idea." I look up at the ceiling when the door slams. "I have to go. I’ll call you back later," I say and disconnect when my office door flies open.
"What happened?” Amelia asks, standing in front of me, and it looks like she’s wearing pjs.
"What are you wearing?" I ask, and she looks down at herself.
"It’s been a day," she states, coming in, and I laugh.