My Professor(84)

My speech for Sonya’s wedding has been penned for a while. The night Wesley proposed to her, I started to keep a journal of ideas, things I thought I might want to tell her on her big day. I filled the pages with funny stories and anecdotes from college. If I ever stumbled on some bit of marriage advice, read a fitting passage in a book, or came across a sweet verse from a poem, I’d add it to the journal. Every time she’d text me something nice about Wesley, I’d add it in there too. This morning, before the start of the day’s festivities, when she and I were lying around, taking our sweet time getting up to get ready, I gave her the journal.

“This is my entire speech, everything I would say if I had ten hours to say it.”

She opened the front flap to find a photo of us taped to the first page. It was from the day we moved into our freshman dorm, the day we became roommates.

“I’ll stand up at your reception later and talk about how love is patient and kind and how Wesley is a lucky man to have you, but the truth is, I’m lucky to have you too. You’ve been a sister to me, someone I’ve taken for granted time and time again. I know our relationship hasn’t always been easy. I know I’m a tough nut to crack on occasion, but I love you so much, Sonya. You don’t know how important you are to me.”

Now, in front of the crowd, I share a condensed version of that journal for all of the wedding guests. They get only the highlights, the sappy-sweet version of why Sonya and Wesley are meant to be, the story of their first date, when Sonya rushed home and proudly declared that she was off the market for good.

It’s toward the end of my speech, when I glance up from my cue card, that my gaze is drawn to the double doors at the back of the banquet room.

My stomach squeezes tight.

At first, I don’t believe my eyes.

Professor Barclay stands there, leaned against the wall, hidden in the low light.

A waiter passes in front of him and I expect him to dissipate like an illusion, sand blown away by the wind, but he stays. No one seems to understand the gravity of him. No one else turns to stare. Their attention is on me and Cooper, and on the bride and groom sitting at the head table behind us.

He’s dressed in a sharp black tuxedo with a folded white pocket square winking from his breast pocket. There’s no smile; instead, he wears a look of quiet reverence as he watches me stutter over my words and finish my speech on muscle memory alone.

“I know we all feel blessed to be here celebrating with Wesley and Sonya today,” I say, feeling as though I’m in a dream. “Two people truly meant to be. Let’s raise our glasses to the bride and groom and wish them a lifetime of love and happiness. Cheers!”

I take a sip of my champagne, and then everyone applauds. I pass the microphone over to Cooper and try to ground myself in the present, but I can’t. Professor Barclay is at Sonya’s wedding even though I didn’t invite him, even though I pushed him away time and time again, even though he’s my boss and I’m the former student he never had to notice, even though the way forward is complicated…he’s here.

I’m shaking from the potent cocktail of adrenaline and residual nerves from having to speak in front of an audience of a few hundred people. I glance away from Cooper for only a moment, back to where Professor Barclay was standing, only to find that he’s not there anymore. I immediately start to scan the crowd, looking for him, but then Cooper says my name and I chide myself for not paying better attention to his speech. He’s telling a story of when Wesley, Sonya, he, and I all went to the beach on vacation and got stung by a swarm of jellyfish. I lose the thread of significance. I have no idea why the story is relevant to Sonya and Wesley’s wedding, but then again, I’m not being the world’s best listener at the moment.

Finally, Cooper finishes his speech, and we raise our champagne flutes in honor of Sonya and Wesley. Waiters are seamlessly dispatched to retrieve empty plates from tables as Sonya’s father stands to take our place on the dance floor for his turn with the microphone.

I have no choice but to reclaim my seat and try to pay attention. I’m on the left arm of the bride; I don’t want to distract anyone from listening to the speech. I force my attention to Sonya’s dad, and even though I listen dutifully, I don’t hear a single word. My head is buzzing. Under the table, I wring my hands. The audience laughs, and I join in a half-beat later.

It continues like this. After Sonya’s father’s speech, Wesley’s father stands for one as well, and I grind my molars. Then the DJ announces the couple’s first dance, and my eyes rove hungrily over that reception hall, but I don’t see Professor Barclay. The dessert table and open bar, photographers and guests…table after table filled with strangers. I start to lose trust in the fact that I ever saw him in the first place.

Even still, I refuse to give up my search as the DJ invites guests to join the newlyweds out on the dance floor. Everyone in the wedding party stands up around me, and then I feel a hand touch my shoulder.

I expect it to be Wesley’s cousin, the one from the cocktail hour, trying one more time to capture my interest.

Instead, a familiar voice speaks behind me.

“Dance with me?”

My heart drops as I spin around. Professor Barclay stands there, in the flesh, his hand outstretched for me to take.

If I stand, I’m not conscious of it. If I let him guide me out onto the dance floor, it’s only because I’m too stunned to do it myself.