How to Talk to a Widower

been refilling his wineglass all night.”
    “Oh,” I say. “Shit.”
    “Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Russ Klein. And I know you’re all wondering what I could possibly have to say on this momentous occasion.” Russ turns to face Debbie, who smiles nervously. “You see, I’ve only known Debbie for a few years, but from the first day I met her … ” He stops to take a deep breath. “From the first day I met her I’ve been madly in love with her.” Debbie’s jaw falls open, and there’s a small, collective gasp from the crowd. “I know I’m just a kid,” Russ continues, “but I always imagined what I would say to you if I ever got the chance, and what I would say is that you are hands down the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You’re kind and smart and funny and sexy, and so pretty, really, so perfectly pretty, and I would have happily given up the next ten years of my life to be old enough to be your boyfriend. And even though you’re way out of my league, I know you’re going to be the standard that I will measure every girl I ever meet against, and I already know they will all fall way short. But at least you’ve given me something to strive for, right? Anyway, now you’re getting married and so I’ll have to get over you, and I just figured I’d have an easier time doing that if I said these things out loud. So, Mike, I just want to say no disrespect intended, you’re a solid guy and I just hope you never stop realizing how lucky you are. And, Debbie, I just want to wish you the best, you deserve it, and tell you that thinking about you got me through a very shitty time in my life—excuse me, everyone—and I will always, always love you for that.” He looks around at the crowd, suddenly self-conscious, and raises his glass sheepishly. “Bottoms up, everybody.”
    There is a smattering of shocked applause and nervous laughter as Russ sits down, a commotion of fast conversation, and then Debbie stands up, red-eyed and blushing profusely, and the room falls silent again. “Russ, I don’t even know what to say. That was the sweetest thing I ever … ” She pauses for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “Well, all I can say is that if things don’t work out with Mike, you’ll be the first to know.” The crowd laughs and Russ looks like he’s seriously considering slitting his wrists.
    “Fuck me,” he says.
    “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “That took a lot of guts.”
    “I made a fool out of myself.”
    “You were very sweet,” Claire says, leaning over to kiss him. “There isn’t a woman in this room who didn’t just fall in love with you.”
    Debbie clears her throat. “There’s something I’d like to say,” she says, and I don’t like the way her eyes find mine and then quickly dart away. I don’t like it at all. After a while, you develop a sixth sense about these things.
    “This family has been through a lot over the last few years,” Debbie says, and you can feel the room holding its breath, mesmerized, waiting for the next plot twist. “And I just want to take a moment to mention my sister-in-law, Hailey. She was my sister and my friend, and now, on the eve of my wedding day, it’s just unimaginable to me that she isn’t here. We love you, Hailey, and we will never stop missing you.”
    And now my mother is crying, and Claire is crying, and Russ is shaking, and people at other tables are wiping their eyes and blowing their noses, and the only one who isn’t crying is my father, who looks singularly perturbed, like he’s trying to work something out. Every eye in the room is on me, like the nominated actor who hasn’t won the award, and I can feel them all looking, waiting for my reaction, and my skin is crawling and my heart is pounding like a war drum and it’s like a sauna in here, I’m sweating through my shirt. And then Debbie’s voice fades away, all sound fades away, the room is reduced to a narrow black corridor, and there is nothing except the soft whisper of my soles against the plush floral carpet, the slide of the fibers under my shoe with each hurried step. And I know they’re coming after me, Claire or Russ or my mother, I can sense the movement behind me, but I can’t look at anyone right now, so I barrel through the heavy fire doors and start moving quickly down the hallway, through the lobby and out the front doors into the cool night air. I stand in the driveway, underneath the