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The table grows quiet, appearing unsure if they actually heard what they thought they did. But sadly, they did.
“What are you two whispering about?” Chad asks suspiciously as he takes his seat. The entire table looks on with interest.
I could lie, but I know this is where it all begins.
Rebecca nervously brushes down her dress, while I lean in and whisper, “Strike three.”
She twists to look at me, her eyes pleading that I don’t, but she should have thought about that before cornering someone with nothing left to lose.
Calmly reaching for my wine, I take a sip before confessing, “We were discussing how your fiancée wants to deep-throat me and then fuck me into a boneless stupor.”
The table gasps while Chad’s mouth drops open and his face turns a ghastly shade of white. The truth hurts but better that than living a lie. “I’m sorry, Chad. I respect you immensely, but I cannot lie to you any longer. Your fiancée is a gold-digging whore.” Chad’s mouth drops even farther, while Rebecca spins to look at him, frantically claiming that it’s all lies.
I look over at Aiko, embarrassed by my crudeness. “My apologies for being so vulgar.” She waves it off, appearing comfortable with my honesty.
The emcee chooses this moment to announce that all nominees are to come up on stage. I stand and coolly button up my jacket. Chad’s face has now turned a bright shade of red, and he too stands up, probably ready to knock me to the ground. I appeal to the rational man who lies deep within.
“A wise man once told me having no one to celebrate your milestones with really puts everything into perspective. And he was right.”
Taking a great risk, I walk past Chad as the emcee calls out my name. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I give it a reassuring squeeze. “Get out now before it’s too late. Believe me, I know.”
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I do know a small part of him must believe me. If not, he would have surely called me a lying son of a bitch and had me thrown out by now, but he’s done neither.
Needing to apologize to the only other person at this table who I give a damn about, I look over at Max. “I’m sorry, Dr. Wellington. I’m afraid I’m not the person you believed me to be.” I can’t stand the look of disappointment any longer, so I commence my walk of shame up to the stage.
A million thoughts race around my head as I stand blankly in front of my peers, colleagues, and now, enemies. I’m barely listening to a word the emcee is saying as all I can focus on is the fact my prediction was right. This is it. All my secrets are about to be revealed. This isn’t just big. This is fucking astronomical.
“And the winner is…” the emcee says, drawing out the anticipation.
Suddenly, my life, my entire existence, flashes before my eyes. Every important event, every important memory crashes so violently into me, I’m left standing breathlessly and rubbing the sweat from my palms. I close my eyes, trying to focus on one single memory because the internal roller coaster is making me sick.
It doesn’t surprise me when my brain tracks back to the time Madison told me she loved me.
Nothing will ever compare to such a feeling because there is no other in the world that could ever make me so happy and feel so complete. Not even winning this stupid award.
“Dr. Dixon Mathews!”
My eyes snap open when the room erupts into deafening cheers. It takes a moment, but when I see a sea of people standing, clapping vigorously, I realize they’re clapping for…me. I actually won.
I’m standing speechless, unsure of what to say or do. Thankfully, the emcee waves me over, holding the glass plate award in his hand. Looking out into the crowd, I see that Max and Chad are standing too, but unlike everyone else, they’re not clapping. Rather, they look to be having heated words.
This vision is exactly what I needed to see, as it sets the wheels into motion.
Taking one step and then two, I accept the award from the relieved emcee, who appears thankful that I’ve returned to the land of the living. It takes a minute or so before the applause dies down and I’m faced with absolute silence.
I grip the wooden podium as I peer around the room. I don’t really know where to start because it’s not like I prepared a speech. However, as I look down at my name engraved into the glass, I know a good place to start is with the truth—to start with the reason I’m here.
I clear my throat. “Thank you.” Now would be the time to say something witty and detail how it’s been my dream to achieve such an accomplishment. But as I return my attention to Max, I know there is only one thing I can do.
Without further thought, I violently smash the plate onto the side of the podium. It shatters with a loud crash, splinters of glass littering the stage. The audience gasps and shouts, most springing up to avoid the projectiles of soaring debris. The emcee shrieks and ducks for cover.
I’m left holding a shard of glass and the sight has me breaking into the first genuine smile I’ve smiled all day. “I’m sorry for the dramatics, but this entire thing is a load of shit.”
Ignoring the mortified faces of my audience, I bend down and pick up a few broken pieces of glass. “This,” I state, holding up a shard which looks a little like Florida. “This is for Dr. Adler.” Dr. Adler is a fellow nominee, and I enjoyed her detailing her studies in the psychology of gender.
She awkwardly looks around the room, but surprises me as she takes a step forward and accepts the slice I’m offering her. “Thank you.” She smiles and walks back to her table.
Holding up another piece, I continue. “And this is for Dr. Augustine.” Dr. Augustine is another candidate. I found his humor refreshing, and he’s also a fellow Yankees fan. He looks nervously around the room, but he too surprises me as he steps forward and accepts his makeshift award.
