The Do-Over(30)

Prior to serving dessert, the program began, with the chapter president thanking everyone for being there and talking about the strength of the organization and what was accomplished within, and created by, the New York group truly shaped global opinion, buying and trends.

They began with the internet advertising awards, clearly the largest growing category and the youngest, hippest nominees.

“Are they even allowed to drink yet?” Jonathan took a sip of his white wine.

The next category was video-based, first starting with commercial, which took forever to get through and then finally into our area of non-profits and public service announcements. Jonathan and I clenched each other’s hands under the table.

“We should all be proud to be nominated. This is so competitive and your message was among the best and really resonated with people,” I told our clients.

As they started reading the names I could feel my hand shaking within Jonathan’s or maybe it was his shaking that was jostling mine. Although I didn’t expect to win, I think it’s human nature to hold out hope until the very end. Because you never know.

Smiling at each other and the clients when our names were called, I squeezed Jonathan’s hand tight and looked over at Chris at the next table. Momentarily, I caught Wes’ eye. The smile on his face was magnificent. Everyone was sharing in this moment of joy.

And then the inevitable, the winners were read, “Mia Silver and Seth Shapiro of M. Silver & Associates for the 9/11 First Responders’ Foundation.”

Clapping loudly for them, Jonathan leaned over and said in my ear, “If I had to lose to anybody, I’m glad it’s them.”

I hardly heard him as I focused on the winning team two tables away. With beatific smiles, Mia and Seth high-fived. I had known them for over a decade, not well, but enough that we’d always talk at events. It was what happened after the high-five that caught my attention and raptly held it captive.

Mia turned to an exceedingly handsome man with thick dirty blonde hair sitting on her right and they kissed. The look they gave one another took my breath away. The love. I felt their love and it made me ache. As she left him to go to the podium to accept her award with Seth, she and the man held hands until the contact broke at the end of their fingertips. And then he watched her, the pride radiating off him like a solar flare. It was then I noticed his wedding band and looked up at the podium to see Mia was wearing one, too.

My heart bloomed with happiness for Mia. I was aware that her affinity for 9/11 charities was not just rooted in being a native New Yorker, but also that she lost her boyfriend in the towers. I hadn’t seen her in a while, between work and the divorce, I had missed more Ad Club meetings than I had attended over the past two years.

And now here she was married and probably to the handsomest man in the room, a man who looked to be in his early to mid-40’s and I guessed Mia was close in age to me. So why was it that the handsomest man in the entire room didn’t need a 25-year old? This man was clearly deeply in love with a woman his age. Why? Why was he not running after child brides like Frank and Wes?

“Tell me this,” I asked Jonathan. “Mia’s husband doesn’t seem to need a 20-something girlfriend and he’s better looking than all the ones that do. Why is that?”

“Because that man doesn’t have an insecure bone in his body.”

“Can you clone him for me?”

“Only if we can clone one for me too.” Jonathan pouted. “Did you notice Seth has a handsome Prince Harry redheaded significant other, too?”

“No, I was so busy watching Mia and that man who adores her.” Turning to take another peek at them, “I want that.”

“Get in line, sista.” Jonathan squeezed my hand under the table.

I waited until they began the print awards before excusing myself from the table. Returning from the ladies’ room I wandered the ornate building, stepping outside to admire their outdoor bar, Champagne Charlie’s. Leaning on the railing, I watched the after work crowd enjoying the balmy spring evening as they winded down the end of the day with a cocktail.

The sleeve of his suit jacket brushed my bare arm, giving me goosebumps, as he leaned on the railing next to me. It was a déjà vu moment of our last night in the Caribbean.

Looking at him, I smiled. “Your daughter is beautiful.”

“My daughter?” He looked genuinely confused and I reveled in his discomfort as he was going to have to tell me who she was. “Oh you mean Keiko? No, no. She’s not my daughter.”

“No?” I feigned confusion. Say it Wes.

“My daughter,” he laughed uneasily. “Ouch, that hurts.” He paused, looking out at the garden and not making eye contact with me. “Keiko is my girlfriend.”

Keeping up the charade of confusion, I too looked out at the flower garden and just nodded my head.

“I can see it in your face, Tara. Just say what you want to say,” Wes’ tone was no nonsense and more than a little defensive, but he had not moved away from me and our arms were still touching.

Without looking at him, I surprised myself by baring my soul. “My ex’s new wife is twenty-five,” and then I turned to him with a smile, “and a half. Yes, she still counts halves. I call her CB, which stands for Child Bride. So clearly this is my issue based on my own shit.” And I shrugged my shoulders.