Saved by a Beer

We were the outsiders, the newbie, the targets, my wife might say. I saw John walk in with his new bride Sarah, out of the corner of eye, through the closed screen on the sliding door, the front door opening wide to the sun and then immediately blocked by their shadows as they moved inside. I’d only met him briefly at the wedding,

Sarah and John had moved to Canada shortly after they met and the wedding plans were all made via Skype and face time. Sara was a good sort, not at all a bridezilla, and john seemed like a good match for her. I had married Sally six months ago, before Sarah and John’s engagement, and John had been working overseas and had to miss our ceremony.

We’d spent one evening together, us and the girls, about two years ago. John and I seemed to have lots in common, including our adoration of the sisters. There had been a big game on TV that day, so we didn’t have a lot of time to chat. We were both caught up in the girls, and then they moved away and we moved to New York and for both of us this holiday was the first time we’d been with the entire family and each other for more than a few hours.

John got up from the sofa and said Want a beer? The girls, all six of them and their mom were deep into catching up and into the second round of drinks. I smiled and stood up; slipping past Sally and her mom in a flash- I honestly don’t think any of them noticed the absence of the two of us.

I followed him into the kitchen which was fragrant with the smell of a roast and rosemary. John flung open the door of the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Pacifica, this OK? He looked at me with a tilted head Perfect I said. I opened the back door and hollered over my shoulder cigar anyone? He laughed and followed me outside.

Thank you for rescuing me, really, I said. My face was ready to crack.


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