THE MAN THAT GOT AWAY
“Today was supposed to be my wedding day.”
She states it simply, and softly, in my ear, without a single trace of emotion.
She is wearing a gown too fancy to be a Friday night going out dress.
It’s not white. But it’s close enough, like a very light ash color.
“Will you play Unforgettable?” she asks.
Her father is here, and along with the courageous act of a very public dinner, she still wants to go through the motions of this traditional dance tonight.
So I play it, and everyone turns to stare at the mesmerizing duo, who have clearly been practicing a long time for this moment.
They thank me and return to their table.
Her server tells me later that evening that I totally made this woman’s night.
She was crying at the table.
I didn’t know if the secret was mine to divulge.
That those were certainly not tears of joy.