Dave, my manager, nearly had a stroke when he saw it. After countless assurances from Philip that he was a trained bird professional and that no one would get sick from bird flu, Dave acquiesced.
Now let’s all say a quick prayer that the health department doesn’t make an unannounced appearance. If they do, we can always lie and say it’s an emotional support dove.
I keep my gaze on the bride and groom, willing myself not to scan the sea of dark suits in the audience. I’ve spent days mentally preparing that he’d be here and what I’d say to him.
That is, if I could get him to talk to me.
If he’s not here, the night will be so much easier for me, but I’d also be crushed that I don’t get to see him.
The audience is clapping and Ophelia and Xavier are walking hand in hand down the aisle. They’ll have cocktails and their receiving line in the bar area while we roll out and set up the tables. For us in the main room, it’s an all-hands-on-deck operation that leaves me little time to think about anything—or anyone—else.
Now if I could just do this twenty-four, seven.
Forty-five minutes later, and we’re ready for the festivities to start. It helps that there are fewer than a hundred people in attendance. Five tables are set up on either side of the dance floor with a head table for Ophelia and Xavier. That’s my table for the night. Unfortunately for me, it’s right up front and center, so everyone will see me coming and going.
If Callaghan’s here, I won’t be able to hide from him.
I get the nod from Dave to let Ophelia and Xavier know it’s time to make their entrance.
The guests are ushered into their seats, and I can no longer restrain myself. I search the crowd until I spot him, leaning on the bar, drink in hand.
My breath catches in my throat.
He’s staring at me. Now I fully understand the saying “If looks could kill.”
There is no doubt in my mind that he hates me. The cold expression on his face says it all. I don’t need to worry about what I’m going to say to him, because he’s not going to listen. He’s not going to give me the chance.
But as Ophelia and Xavier take their first dance, I can’t help but look from the happy couple to him. They didn’t even know each other a few months ago and now they’re the picture of romance and love.
I’ve been pining away for Callaghan Entay for almost half my life, and what do I have to show for it?
He has every right not to return my feelings, but at the very least, he can give me five minutes to explain. I need him to know I didn’t betray him. I need him to know that I was there for him, not for what he could do for me.
It may not matter to him—Imay not matter to him—but he has to know one way or the other.
Before I can do that, though, I have to get through the rest of this evening, smiling and being pleasant and not letting anyone know my heart has been ripped from my chest and smashed into a thousand pieces.
Not to be dramatic or anything.
I put on my best professional demeanor and make sure Ophelia and Xavier have the best possible night they can. It’s a lovely reception. Only one person seems to be miserable. One person besides me, that is.
I feel his gaze follow me as I move about the room, doing my duties. He’s continually pulling out his phone and scrolling, frowning at the screen. I can only imagine what he’s unhappy with this time, but at least I didn’t have anything to do with it.
I’ve been posting drafts that I’d recorded earlier, but I’ve yet to make any new content for ClikClak since my last submission toThe Looking Glass. If I didn’t think it was absolutely vital for getting a job, I’d probably delete my whole account.
This social media thing isn’t for the faint of heart and can cause a lot more problems than one realizes. It does things to one’s brain. Chemical things that create the need for validation from total strangers. One starts to crave likes and views and follows, quickly abandoning important things like sleep to get those hits. And when the likes and views and follows slow down, the person grows desperate to post something—anything—that will gain traction.
I’m guessing this is very much how addiction feels.
Sure, social media is great at connecting people, but it’s equally, if not more, divisive. It’s easy to post something I’d never say to a person’s face, just to get views. Never in a million years would I have told people about Callaghan’s injury, yet in a moment of weakness, I was prepared to broadcast it to the world.
Social media should come with courses on responsibility and etiquette. I’m sure there’d be a lot less drama on ClikClak if everyone treated people how they would in real life.
It’s just as easy to block someone, without giving them the chance to explain.
That’s bullshit too.
The party is starting to wind down, and I see Callaghan heading toward the door. Oh no, he’s not going to Irish exit on me. Not before he hears me out. I check in with the happy couple to make sure they don’t need anything.
