Light of Dusk Ch. 02

"How was your first taste of wedding madness?" Jesse asked. Jeff stuck out his tongue and made a rude noise. "I can see you're especially mature for your age."

"You have to be mature to make it through med school," Jeff wasn't feeling particularly flirty, but it flowed from him anyhow. "All those late nights in the morgue, carving up dead bodies like it was Transylvanian Thanksgiving, how else can a man retain his sanity?"

She found it amusing that he was still playing the role of the wedding's absent best man, Doctor Bennett. "Just where did you go to medical school, Doctor? The University of Frankenstein? You won't fool many people with that shtick. You're way too young to be a doctor as prominent as Wesley Bennett."

"You should know that acting is one of my many talents. In junior high, I starred in the end-all-be-all production ofOklahoma!. I played Curlyand Jud and I would have played the chick had I not looked so awful in calico. It was a tour de force performance."

Her meticulously penciled eyebrow arched. "Okay, Mr. Actor, we'll see if you can fool Dr. Westfield." Jesse, obviously as bored as he, led Jeff to a nattily attired splinter, whose gray pinstriped suit smelled like antiseptic and mothballs. Jeff had a hard time suppressing a gag. "Dr. Bennett this is Dr. Henry Westfield." She smirked at Jeff. "He's a proctologist too."

Oh good Lord! Jeff shook hands with the older man, silently blessing whoever had invented the sterile latex glove. "Nice to meet you, Doctor."

The older man peered at Jeff through thick bifocal glasses balanced on a beak of a nose. "Dr. Bennett, yes, now I remember; we've consulted over the phone a time or two. Though I must say you look younger than I imagined."

"I get that a lot," he glanced at Dawn, who was helping Roger pile sliced ham on a porcelain dish. "It must be good genes."

Jeff snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering a dumb old locker room joke. "Hey, speaking of phones: What do proctologists and the phone company have in common?" He poked Dr. Westfield with his index finger. "They both like to reach out and touch someone." The older doctor smiled sourly.

After a few more sophomoric butt jokes, Jesse dragged Jeff away, unable to suppress her laughter any longer. "I can't believe you asked Dr. Westfield what he thought of the rectum as a whole."

"I personally think it should be wiped out," Jeff delivered the punch line as deadpan as possible.

She laughed again. "Come on Curly-slash-Jud. I'm starving, and it looks like the buffet line is finally manageable." She took him by the hand and led him straight to the baked ham. The ham dripped honey and melted brown sugar, as the attendant carved the exquisitely pink meat. She grabbed a white porcelain plate and sniffed the sweet aroma. A set of brilliant teeth evidenced her approval. She looked at him with brown, doe eyes, as soft and as warm as her dusky skin. "It looks really good."

He agreed.

After they filled their plates with ham, salad, and broccoli rice, Jeff scanned the banquet hall for a place to sit. "I've never heard of a wedding rehearsal with so many guests," he said. Everyone invited to the wedding itself seemed to be there.

"This is my brother's work," she said. "He never does anything halfway."

Tara waved her arm wildly, drawing his attention to a seat between herself and Jenny. Jesse caught his arm. "Uh-uh, forget the kiddy table. We have reserved seats." She led him to a pair of empty seats at the bride and groom's table. Jesse took the seat to the right, flanking her mother, while Jeff settled into the seat to the left, beside Dawn.

"You look beautiful tonight," Roger told Dawn. He chewed a piece of ham with his mouth open. Dawn, modest as ever, denied the fact. "Doesn't she look beautiful, bro?"

Jeff cringed. If Roger didn't stop calling him "bro," he would...he would... He wasn't quite sure what he'd do. Nevertheless, he considered the question. Showing just the right amount of skin and wearing just the right amount of makeup, Dawn had never looked lovelier. "You look good," he mumbled.

Jeff chewed a piece of warm ham, desperate to distract himself.

"Better than good," Roger squeezed her freckled shoulder, "Though, I wish you weren't wearing black. You know how much better you look in light colors." He turned to Jeff with a perplexed look. "She won't even wear white for the wedding tomorrow. What's the use of saving yourself if you don't wear white?"

Jeff sucked in a piece of ham that clogged his air passage. He choked and coughed as water flowed copiously from his eyes. For the umpteenth time that day, all eyes fell on Jeff. His head felt light. He needed oxygen. Half the guests were doctors, yet no one lifted a finger.

Jeff dipped his long neck and struggled to hack up the ham. Slowly but surely, his air passage opened as Jesse and Dawn alternated turns smacking at his back. He had never tasted anything so wonderful as the first bit of air that cooled his tongue. Strong arms encircled his waist. Jeff was lifted from the seat, lifted from his very feet. Roger tardily applied the Heimlich maneuver. The piece of ham flew from Jeff's mouth into the basket he made with his palms.

"Oh my God! Are you alright?" Dawn wrapped her arms around Jeff's neck, squeezing tight.

"He needs air, Dawn." Jesse pulled her away while Jeff gorged his lungs.

As if nothing had happened, everyone in the banquet hall turned their attentions back to their own meals. Jeff slouched in his seat, pushing the plate away. He would grab a nice, soft burrito on the way home. Death by ham was not how he planned to go.

For saving his future brother-in-law, Roger was hailed as the hero. Forget the fact that Jeff had cleared his throat on his own and Roger had only managed to bruise a few ribs.

"Close call, eh bro?" Roger's thick hand found Jeff's shoulder and squeezed.

"I could use a beer," Jesse announced. "Do you want anything from the bar?" She raised her sculpted eyebrows at Jeff. A beer sounded good, three or four sounded better. Instead, he asked for another ginger ale.

"I'll take a beer," Roger said.

His sister smirked. "Then get off your fat ass and get one." Roger laughed and did just that.

Jeff and Dawn were certainly not alone, Roger's mother and stepfather, Roger's father, their own father and a handful of other guests crowded the oblong table. Yet somehow, without Jesse or the groom-to-be, it seemed like the siblings were on an island. Dawn pushed a forkful of mashed potatoes across the plate while Jeff nibbled on a safe-looking piece of lettuce.

"You and Jesse seem to be hitting it off." Dawn poked at the mashed potatoes, trying hard not to look at him.

"She's a nice girl. I haven't met many nice girls lately."

"Girl?" Dawn frowned at him. "She's a thirty-two-year-old woman."

An engagement to a man nearly twice her age put Dawn in no position to preach this particular sermon. Jeff put on his smug face, determined to make her suffer. "She's younger than Roger."

"It's more than just her age. Jesse's a doctor. She's a neurotic, twice-divorced chain smoker. Stay away from her, Jeff. Your cute little doe is a walking train wreck."

Considering what she was putting him through, she had no right to be jealous. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "You're not over me, are you?" The warmth of his breath and the way his lips lingered near her ear made her squirm. He knew how to push a woman's buttons, especiallythis woman.

"We can't have this conversation," she said.

Jeff disagreed. This particular conversation was long overdue. "When you stood in that airport terminal and said you didn't love me, you were lying. Lying to me and lying to yourself. Roger was joking around when he said you practically worshipped me, but I think he was right."

"Jeff, stop it. I don't...I don't feel that way, not anymore." She directed the words at the mashed potatoes on her plate, not at him.

"Answer me one question and be completely honest. Why haven't you slept with him?" She didn't answer. "He thinks you're a virgin, Dawn. What are you going to tell him? Will you tell him about me, about us? Or will you lie? We both know how good you are atthat."

Dawn covered her face to mask the hurt as Roger and Jesse returned. When she saw how they laughed and smiled like normal siblings, Dawn scooted her chair from the table and ran as fast as the chunky heels of her pumps would allow.

Jeff rubbed his mouth with the cloth napkin. He had reverted to the old Jeff Kramer far too many times today. Maybe that's who he truly was inside. He could try to be charming, fun, and innocuous, but deep down he was still the monster who had claimed his little sister's body in the service tunnel beneath Jackson Field. No wonder she hated him. At that moment, he hated himself.

Roger exchanged a puzzled look with Jesse. "Should I talk to her?" he asked.

"No," Jesse said. She handed Jeff the sweating glass of ginger ale. "I think this is a family matter."

He found Dawn in the torch lit courtyard of the Italian restaurant across the street. She stood before the large marble fountain of Apollo's chariot, digging through her sleek black handbag.

Jeff reached into his hip pocket and extracted a penny. "Old habits die hard," he said, handing her the coin.

She closed her eyes and tossed the coin in the fountain. When she opened them again, she smiled shyly. "It embarrasses Roger when I do that. He thinks wishes are dumb." A tear raced down her dimpled cheek.

"Who cares what Roger thinks?" He pulled the folded handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed her cheek, drying a tear. As she wore little makeup, the golden handkerchief came away clean. Jeff tucked the scrap of cloth in his pants pocket. "Do the wishes ever come true?" he asked. She looked at his feet and nodded. "Then they're not dumb."

The restaurant was on the edge of an urban park. The gold of the full moon, filtered by the lush boughs of a goliath pin oak tree, illuminated the nighttime sky. Crickets sang amongst the shrubbery; their calls echoed over the babbling fountain, creating a serene symphony. For the first time in a very long time, Jeff Kramer felt a kind of peace. The feeling was short lived. After tonight, the girl he longed to share these types of moments with would be lost to him forever. He didn't want Jesse, Jenny, Tara or any other woman. He only wanted Dawn.

"You know, you could just walk away from everything. You could come with me to my motel, or back to Calgary, or anywhere you wanted."

She nodded because she knew.

Before the unbridgeable gulf of marriage opened up between them, he had to know why she would choose someone as unremarkable as Roger over someone like him. "What does he have that I don't?"

Looking up to the stars, she murmured the answer, "A different last name."

Jeff sighed. The truth was far crueler than he had ever been. Cruel as it was, the very nature of their relationship was not the only reason for the breakup. He had been her brother when they first kissed, as well as when they first made love. The sex had been sweet despite the savagery of his clumsiness, sweet because of her.

"You're wrong you know?" Her words lingered, drawing him from his own thoughts. "You always put everything on your own shoulders, like you did something horrible to lose me." Hadn't he? For more than a year, Jeff wracked his brain, trying to think of ways he could have behaved differently.

"You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect." Total lies, yet she sounded so sincere. "Sure, there was a time when you were difficult to be around, but you got past that. You turned your life around. You stopped drinking. And the parties, you quit those, too. Who else could have done it?" She snapped her fingers for emphasis, "Just like that. You can do anything if you set your mind, Jeff."

"No...no," he said, "I can't, not without you."

When he reached out, she moved away. Jeff longed to hold her. No other woman was as sweet, trusting, or forgiving. They were qualities he never searched for in a woman, yet he knew they made all the difference. She had looked past his imperfections, his ugly bitterness, and found something good and beautiful where other women had found only the star quarterback, an emotionally voided foothold they could use to gain popularity.

Looking at his sister's moonlit body, he had a startling realization of why Roger had won the heart of this most perfect creature. He, Jeff Kramer, wasn't good enough for her. No, Jeff wasn't suddenly suffering from some kind of late-onset inferiority complex; he had simply taken his sweet time in realizing the obvious.

Roger could give her support, both financial and emotional; he could give her an enormous wedding and a lavish honeymoon; and he could give her countless numbers of fat, ugly little babies.

Dawn touched a tear as it wandered down his cheek. "I'm feeling braver," she said, "If you want, we can go back in." She took his hand, threaded her fingers through his, and led Jeff back to the rehearsal dinner.

To be continued...

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