iii. Smell
She’s never liked fireworks. As a child, they had frightened her. She remembers climbing into her mother’s lap on a picnic blanket and burying her face into her shirt. Her mother had reassured her that they were safe. The fireworks couldn’t hurt her. They were just pretty lights and sounds way up in the sky and far away from them. Angela had protested and said, “But they could hurt the people in Heaven.”
As she grew, she just found that fireworks were flashy and loud and too much big, too much bright, too much. She usually celebrates the Fourth of July, proud of her American heritage, by baking apple pie and watching the annual specials on the History Channel. Last year she had tromped into the middle of a beet field with Dwight and Mose and watched them set off dozens of home fireworks. She’d started the night angry and complaining but they’d been enthusiastic and filled with so much joy. Dwight had screamed “HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!” into the black sky, holding a sparkler in one ash-covered hand. He had turned to look at her over his shoulder, grinning with something like elation and she had, against all odds, found herself grinning back.
Tonight she stares up into the night sky and watches the huge explosions of bright, professional fireworks light up the sky. Everyone is happy and laughing and kissing and she can see their illuminated faces every few seconds as another firework explodes above them. Andy looks over at her between explosions and his face looks shadowy and calm. It is so different from his usual demeanor; so gentle and real. She reaches out a hand and touches his arm quietly before dropping it back to her lap and turning her gaze back up onto the sky.
She feels him go still beside her and knows he is staring at her. The music is rolling over and over and the fireworks just kept coming and she is tired and cold. She feels slightly dizzy and she can hear Dwight laughing and applauding a particularly impressive display. The air smells like smoke and barbeque and springtime and nighttime all at once and a wave of nausea laps at her stomach.
Suddenly, Andy is on his feet and walking away from her. Her first instinct is that he is planning to join the band with his own, aggressive take on “Just My Imagination.” But he looks different. Determined somehow. And then he is grabbing the microphone and describing the perfection of this moment. The same moment that is making her feel sick to her stomach and uncomfortable. He is referring to his parents and eyes are turning to look at them waving like plastic dolls for the cameras. He is asking her to come up on the stage.
No, no, no. Her mind is racing with a million thoughts and shutting off all at once. Her hands are sweaty and chapped. She is refusing to come up on the stage, terrified of what might happen if she does, and dozens of butterflies are sprouting wings in her stomach. She is so confused by Andy, watching him nearly break Darryl’s keyboard but not hearing anything. All she can hear is some whistling, curdling fear crawling up her insides. All she can smell is the smoky explosions of color above her. All she can think is Dwight, Dwight, Dwight.
And then Andy is on his knees before her and its happening. He is proposing to her in the parking lot of her office building, under fireworks, surrounded by co-workers and his parents. It is wrong. It is the absolute last way she would have imagined a proposal. It is bold and flashy and impersonal and kitschy and nearly everything she hates all wrapped up and tied with a bow.
He is shoving the microphone under her mouth and waiting for a reply. They are all waiting for a reply, looking at her with excited anticipation. She can’t bear to look at the shadowy outline she knows is Dwight, standing very still somewhere beyond Andy. And she is thinking about Dwight giving her a ride to the gas station when her car broke down and Andy putting his jacket around her at a cold restaurant and Dwight shyly offering her a drawer in his heavy oak dresser and Andy falling asleep with her tabby cat Buttons curled in his lap and Dwight kissing her soundly and slowly for the first time in her bedroom.
She looks at Andy’s honest, open face and has one final thought…the chilling image that had awaited her behind her freezer’s door…and she makes her decision. A quiet “okay” falls out of her mouth and she is praying to God to please, please forgive her. Andy makes her say it again and she feels the beginnings of anger bubble out of her. But people are starting to clap and he is giving her the ring, which is actually fairly lovely, and she lets the anger go.
From there, all the edges of the moment blur away. Everything is colors and shadows but Andy is right by her side, beaming at the crowd and requesting that Darryl’s band play “My Heart Will Go On.” People are beginning to drift away from the party and head home, wishing Toby good luck and telling Angela congratulations in slightly false tones.
Pam comes up to her with a small, tight smile on her face. Angela is very surprised when she is pulled into a short hug. As Pam pulls away, Angela can see that unshed tears are sitting on the edges of her eyelids. “Best wishes, Angela,” she says in a quiet, genuine voice and of course Pam would know that proper etiquette says you don’t tell the bride congratulations. Angela looks at her for a long, still moment before finally answering her.
“Thank you, Pam,” she says. And she means it.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali