Summary: A weekend alone with Tony is so much less and so much more than Angela expected.
I knew I was being silly to think anything would come of this weekend. Nothing's happened in four and a half years, why should I expect anything to change now? I guess I thought we've been growing a little closer over the past few months, and in the back of my mind I was kind of hoping a weekend away – even at a baseball reunion – might be all we needed to see if we were ready to take a step forward. Still, I was able to go into the weekend without letting those lingering hopes guide my expectations. And considering what happened the first night, it's a good thing I didn't get my hopes up.
When we arrived, I had no idea what to make of Tony's quite unexpected announcement that I was his wife. Looking at the group of friends with whom he had reunited, I couldn't figure out what purpose our "marriage" was supposed to serve. And even meeting Betty, with her tight dress, flaming hair, and endless hourglass did not initially set off warning bells.
But then, secluded somewhat self-consciously in our honeymoon suite, he said he also did it for us. As newlyweds, the guys might be a little more respectful of our time together than if Tony was "single." And for a little while after Tony left for drinks with his former teammates, I let my imagination run free, thinking about our night in our room, eating dinner and watching "The Way We Were." I let myself dream about curling up on the couch, covered with a blanket, a bottle of wine chilling on the end table and sharing that intimate space with him. It's been a long time since I let myself think about more between us. It seems that I've grown very accustomed to our friendship, and most of the time I can't imagine changing things.
But every once in a while, I let myself remember those tense and tender moments over the years when I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that it could never work between us. Now, it just seems like we've found a rhythm, and maybe this is all we're destined to have. Other times, I can't help but think about the possibility of more.
And as Tony allowed Betty to fuss and fawn over him, I'll admit to a moment's jealousy. I didn't want him to be attracted to another woman, and I especially didn't want to hear all about her impressive physical attributes while posing as his wife. It was humiliating. It was demeaning. And it was insulting.
But that's not why I was mad. I can admit now that the whole fiasco is behind us that the reason I was angry was because I couldn't compete with Betty. Tony allowed her to come between us during our weekend, and there was nothing I could do about it without looking petty. As I told him Saturday morning, I'm not his wife, and can't make any demands on how he spends his time. I guess I just want more recognition … or acknowledgement ... or whatever it is that would better define my status in his life – whatever that status is. I just want to feel like I had a right to be angry.
But heaven help me, I couldn't contain my relief when I learned he hadn't spent the night with her. I was nearly sick thinking about it, especially knowing I had practically sent him into her arms. I was able to resolve myself to attending the game only by being reminded, however tactlessly, that I accompanied Tony to the reunion as a friend and that I had no reason to expect we'd be more than friends when we returned home. But I can't deny a part of me felt that impulsive kiss was worth all the heartache (almost). Wow.
Kiss aside, the rest of the weekend was a true joy. Tony played phenomenally, hitting (let's hope I get this right) two doubles, and one out of the park on a 3-2 count in the ninth. He also turned two double plays from second and caught a line drive headed toward center. Gee, I almost sound like I know what I'm talking about instead of just repeating verbatim what I've heard him boasting about for the past forty-eight hours.
We joined the team for dinner and dancing afterward to celebrate our side's victory over the other group of "old-timers." While things between us returned to normal, judging by the ribbing and catcalls, we apparently played the role of newlyweds fairly convincingly. In truth, we spent very little time off the dance floor, just circling in each other's arms as songs blended from one to the other. It also seemed to be a night for couples as Betty was conspicuously absent, and all the players were accompanied by wives and girlfriends. I wasn't complaining.
Finally, we made our excuses, with no small amount of fanfare, and retired to our room. We may have missed "The Way We Were" the night before, but the eternal optimism of "It's a Wonderful Life" suited our lightened and grateful hearts much better. It was a wonderful evening between friends with much laughter and banter. I won't lie and say there weren't a few moments of tense anticipation when the memory of our kiss played across my mind, seemingly begging for an encore. And his hand was so warm and secure as it covered mine at the end of the movie when George realizes how lucky he is.
And I know how lucky I am to have Tony. He is my best friend, the one person I can talk to about almost anything, the person who knows my fears, of heights, of failure, of being hurt again; my history and goals; my family; and my favorite dessert. I went into this trip, our first ever alone, wondering about what it could mean, but expecting nothing. In the end, I came home with contentment – that one day I won't have to wonder, I'll just know whether we're destined to be just friends or only waiting for the right time to be more.