we could all see the enormous diamond that radiated almost as brightly as her face.
Zoë immediately leaped into action, leaning over me to get a closer look at the ring, pushing my body against the back of my chair in the process. I sat motionless, leaning as far back from the table as I could to avoid getting whipped in the face by Zoë's long, dangling, blond hair. But, more important, to avoid the large, menacing rock that seemed to be drawing closer with every threatening move of Sophie's hand.
I watched the whole spectacle unfold in front of me like an old silent black-and-white movie. Pictures without sounds. Quiet, muted faces mouthing words of congratulations and joy. But somehow, completely unable to participate.
"Jen," I heard Sophie's voice come through a long wind tunnel, and suddenly all the humming and buzzing in my ears vanished.
I blinked. "Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
I looked up to see Zoë's and Sophie's faces staring at me from behind the giant diamond. Zoë was now hovering over the back of Sophie's chair to get a closer look.
"I... um, I thought you weren't able to see him this weekend," I said weakly.
Sophie's face glowed brighter. "I know! But it was all a ploy to catch me off guard. He showed up last night and surprised me!"
"OMG," Zoë gushed in her typical IM speak. She usually resorted to it when she wanted to be extra dramatic and express something either truly grotesque or truly mind-blowing. Or occasionally just to save time. "How'd he do it?"
Sophie's beaming face never dimmed for a moment. "Well, I was sitting at home alone, pissed off because he wasn't answering his cell phone. It was turned off. And I assumed he had shut it off because he was out drinking with his stupid friends from the hospital."
Zoë and John nodded eagerly, hungry for more, as if stranded on a deserted island and marriage proposal details were their only hope of survival.
"And then the doorbell rang. I had absolutely no idea who it could be. No one ever rings my doorbell, except my landlord when she's delivering a package." Her voice was fast and animated. And with every word her eyes lit up like sparkling firecrackers. "And I almost didn't open it because when I looked out the peephole there was no one there."
"This is good," Zoë confirmed, egging her on.
Sophie grinned and continued. "But I thought, what the hell, maybe it's a package she forgot to drop off earlier. So I opened the door."
"And he was there!" Zoë interjected, considerably proud of her supersleuth, Encyclopedia Brown–esque ability to conclude the story before it was fully revealed to the audience.
"Yes!" Sophie exclaimed. "He was there! On one knee, holding out the ring!"
John and Zoë exchanged a sentimental glance worthy of a true Hollywood romance.
"And that's why I couldn't see anyone through the peephole," Sophie explained.
"Because he was down on one knee!" Zoë stated the obvious in an overly sappy tone that I rarely ever heard from her unless she was mocking a soap opera, a reality show, or a colleague she disliked for being "too girly."
"Exactly," Sophie replied, in the same tone.
The three of them simultaneously let out an emotional sigh, and then upon becoming aware of my lack of participation, turned and stared at me. The same unnerving, inquisitive expression spread across each of their faces. It was as if they were a group of scientists examining a newly discovered alien species from another planet. A planet where, evidently, the word "engagement" didn't exist in the local language or telepathic form of communication.
I stared blankly at the closed menu in front of me.
"Jen?" Sophie implored. "What's the matter ?"
I looked up at her, dazed. "Huh? Nothing."
"What do you mean 'nothing'? I'm getting married and you haven't reacted at all!"
The truth was, I didn't know how to react. I didn't know how to think. Up until now the only marriages and engagements in my life were the ones I exposed as fraudulent. Not the ones
Zoë immediately leaped into action, leaning over me to get a closer look at the ring, pushing my body against the back of my chair in the process. I sat motionless, leaning as far back from the table as I could to avoid getting whipped in the face by Zoë's long, dangling, blond hair. But, more important, to avoid the large, menacing rock that seemed to be drawing closer with every threatening move of Sophie's hand.
I watched the whole spectacle unfold in front of me like an old silent black-and-white movie. Pictures without sounds. Quiet, muted faces mouthing words of congratulations and joy. But somehow, completely unable to participate.
"Jen," I heard Sophie's voice come through a long wind tunnel, and suddenly all the humming and buzzing in my ears vanished.
I blinked. "Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
I looked up to see Zoë's and Sophie's faces staring at me from behind the giant diamond. Zoë was now hovering over the back of Sophie's chair to get a closer look.
"I... um, I thought you weren't able to see him this weekend," I said weakly.
Sophie's face glowed brighter. "I know! But it was all a ploy to catch me off guard. He showed up last night and surprised me!"
"OMG," Zoë gushed in her typical IM speak. She usually resorted to it when she wanted to be extra dramatic and express something either truly grotesque or truly mind-blowing. Or occasionally just to save time. "How'd he do it?"
Sophie's beaming face never dimmed for a moment. "Well, I was sitting at home alone, pissed off because he wasn't answering his cell phone. It was turned off. And I assumed he had shut it off because he was out drinking with his stupid friends from the hospital."
Zoë and John nodded eagerly, hungry for more, as if stranded on a deserted island and marriage proposal details were their only hope of survival.
"And then the doorbell rang. I had absolutely no idea who it could be. No one ever rings my doorbell, except my landlord when she's delivering a package." Her voice was fast and animated. And with every word her eyes lit up like sparkling firecrackers. "And I almost didn't open it because when I looked out the peephole there was no one there."
"This is good," Zoë confirmed, egging her on.
Sophie grinned and continued. "But I thought, what the hell, maybe it's a package she forgot to drop off earlier. So I opened the door."
"And he was there!" Zoë interjected, considerably proud of her supersleuth, Encyclopedia Brown–esque ability to conclude the story before it was fully revealed to the audience.
"Yes!" Sophie exclaimed. "He was there! On one knee, holding out the ring!"
John and Zoë exchanged a sentimental glance worthy of a true Hollywood romance.
"And that's why I couldn't see anyone through the peephole," Sophie explained.
"Because he was down on one knee!" Zoë stated the obvious in an overly sappy tone that I rarely ever heard from her unless she was mocking a soap opera, a reality show, or a colleague she disliked for being "too girly."
"Exactly," Sophie replied, in the same tone.
The three of them simultaneously let out an emotional sigh, and then upon becoming aware of my lack of participation, turned and stared at me. The same unnerving, inquisitive expression spread across each of their faces. It was as if they were a group of scientists examining a newly discovered alien species from another planet. A planet where, evidently, the word "engagement" didn't exist in the local language or telepathic form of communication.
I stared blankly at the closed menu in front of me.
"Jen?" Sophie implored. "What's the matter ?"
I looked up at her, dazed. "Huh? Nothing."
"What do you mean 'nothing'? I'm getting married and you haven't reacted at all!"
The truth was, I didn't know how to react. I didn't know how to think. Up until now the only marriages and engagements in my life were the ones I exposed as fraudulent. Not the ones
Similar Books
