That Old Cape Magic

possibility would have cheered him had he not sensed there was a greater distance between Joy and him as well, as if their brief, unguarded intimacy at the emergency room had frightened her enough that she was determined not to risk it again.
    That morning he’d suggested to Marguerite that they shouldn’t be too much of a couple, either. Knowing how much she loved to dance, he allowed that it would probably be okay if they boogied to a couple of fast numbers, but no slow, clingy stuff. If he worried about cramping her style, he needn’t have. Recognizing Sunny Kim from last year’s leftover table with a squeal of delight, she immediatelydragged him out there and didn’t let him go until they’d hoofed it through three long tracks. After that she danced with Andy, with all of his groomsmen and even with Ringo, who sported an impressive hematoma on his forehead and moved, Griffin was pleased to see, like a man in a truss. When she’d exhausted all these partners, she set upon the Unitarian comic, whose expression suggested he’d become a man of the cloth as a hedge against precisely this sort of social necessity. On the dance floor he looked everywhere but at Marguerite’s chest, unintentionally providing the very comedy that had eluded him during the wedding ceremony. When she wasn’t dancing, Marguerite took refuge at the table presided over by Kelsey and her husband (“Aunt Rita? What’re
you
doing here?”), getting a recap of the couple’s first year of wedded bliss.
    Her defection left Griffin—who had it coming, of course—too often alone at the long head table. Laura (he could tell) coerced her bridesmaids to dance with him, and out of a similar sense of duty he’d asked Andy’s mother, who said, no, no, she really couldn’t, as if the single dance ticket she’d been issued at the door had already been redeemed by her son. Joy’s sisters had their husbands to deal with and they didn’t like him besides, so he steered clear there. Joy herself was going from table to table, making sure people had what they needed and were enjoying themselves, a duty he begrudged her until it occurred to him that it was his as well, so he started at the other end of the room and did the same thing, as slowly as possible, lest he be forced to return to the nearly abandoned head table.
    His sense that something wasn’t right intensified as the evening wore on, though he had no idea what the hell might be wrong. Everybody seemed to be having a good time, especially the young people, Laura and Andy’s college friends, which was as it should be. The only person more disconnected to the proceedings was poor Harve. After successfully lobbying to attend, he dozed through the exchange of vows and then much of the reception, though at onepoint he struggled to his feet and gyrated his hips with the prettiest of Laura’s bridesmaids, occasioning thunderous applause from everyone but Dot, who thrust him forcefully back into his chair. The boy who’d punched Andy (and his own mother) in the groin the night before—Griffin still had no idea who the little fucker was—recognized Jason and once again attempted his signature move, but the MP saw it coming and put the palm of his hand on the kid’s forehead and let him swing away, and this, too, everyone seemed to think was funny.
    Gradually Griffin came to understand that he was waiting for another moment of grace, like the one at last year’s wedding when Laura pulled Sunny Kim onto the dance floor. The night before, in the emergency room with Joy, he’d sensed the proximity of just such a moment, but the twins had interrupted and it was lost, though at the time it hadn’t worried him. If he didn’t force it, he told himself, the moment would come of its own volition, probably at some point during the wedding. Maybe even heralded by that old Bon Jovi song. What was it called? “Livin’ on a Prayer”? He checked with the DJ, who said it was definitely on the playlist, but it didn’t play, and still didn’t, and when some of the guests with small children began to gather them up and bid farewell to the bride and groom, he realized it wasn’t going to.
    Feeling his emotions come untethered and rise dangerously toward the surface, he left the wedding tent, whispering to Marguerite that he needed to visit the gents. Inside the hotel he found Sunny Kim sitting alone in the small, dark bar, drinking in the only place where the booze wasn’t free.
    “Do you enjoy