Plus One

“I can’t believe this is actually happening to me,” I said, staring down at the envelope in my hands. “I just can’t.”

“I can,” my best friend Leanne said with a snort. “You have the worst luck ever.” Seeing the look on my face, she sobered up and added, “Seriously, Mick, you don’t need to go. No one’s making you.”

“Seriously? The only reason Marcus invited me was so he could rub it in my face. He knows I’m not over him; everyone knows it.” I looked at the letter in my hand with contempt, reading the fancy script:

You have been formally invited to the wedding of

Marcus Andrew Green & Hana Reena Sadangi

Beneath it was the date, time, location, and underneath that, it had some stupid drawing of two doves holding a banner that said MARCUS AND HANA.

“The wedding is in two weeks,” Leanne said. “We’ve talked about this billions of times. If this bothers you so much, why not just ‒”

“Who even gets married at twenty-two?” I interrupted. “We just became legal to drink last year. Don’t you think that’s too early? That’s like leaving a party at nine p.m.”

“Yeah, but going home to the love of your life and having sex and watching movies for the rest of the night,” Leanne pointed out. I made a face.

“I don’t get why he invited me in the first place,” I complained. “I’m his ex-girlfriend. Why would he want me there?”

“Because we were all friends in college, even if you guys did date, and you did say you wanted to remain friends,” she reminded me. “And besides, you like Hana, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want to watch her marry Marcus.”

“Like I was saying . . . you don’t have to go. In fact, why did you RSVP ‘yes’ in the first place?”

“Because I do. I need to show him that I’m not still hung up on him like he thinks. That I’m totally fine with watching him marry someone else.” I glared at her. “I just don’t see why you can’t go as my date.”

“I told you, I’m bringing Oliver.” Oliver was Leanne’s dumb boyfriend. Actually, he was very nice and I liked him a lot, but right now he was pretty much the root of my problem.

“Well, now I’m gonna have to go alone, and I’ll look even more pathetic!” I protested.

“Then find someone to go with!” Leanne exclaimed. “Michaela, you’re a catch, when you’re not being grumpy. Anyone would die to go with you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“No, not maybe. Look, I have to go to work, but think about it, okay?” Leanne patted my shoulder before shouldering her bag and leaving, closing the door behind her.

I contemplated throwing the invitation into the trash, but decided against it, pinning it to our refrigerator. Just because Marcus was the first person I’d ever really fallen for didn’t mean I couldn’t find another date. It would be easy-peasy.

But the more I thought about it, the harder it seemed. Marcus and I had had this whirlwind, fairy-tale type of romance where we complimented each other in every way possible. I’d honestly thought I would be the one marrying him. And even after he broke up with me, taking me completely by surprise, by the way, (it just “wasn’t working” according to him) I assumed that we’d find our way back to each other when the time was right. What I did not expect was to have him come to our lunch table two weeks after and say, “So, I’m sort of seeing someone.”

Hana Sadangi (even her name was better than mine) was from India, and she was beautiful in the way that only foreign people are ‒ coffee-colored skin, long black hair, sparkling brown eyes. Her family had moved to America when she was twelve. Despite the fact that it was ten years ago, she still had a bit of an accent, and it was every bit as charming as she was.

When she and Marcus started dating, she’d pulled me aside and said, “Look, Michaela, I know you and Marcus had a relationship before, and you might not like me, but I would really like it if we could be friends.”

Before all of this, I’d complained to our other friends how Hana looked like she was such a bitch and probably thought she was better than all of us, so having her be so nice took me completely by surprise and made me a little embarrassed.

“Oh . . . I was thinking the same thing, actually,” I’d lied, and she’d smiled. And it really was hard to hate her. I felt like Rachel from “Friends” when Ross started dating Julie.

So now Hana was convinced that she and I were the best of friends, when really all we had in common was that we’d both seen Marcus’s dick at some point. She never came to me when she needed advice on him, though, and I was glad.

“Okay,” I said aloud to the empty apartment. “This is fine. I’ll just find a date. I can do that. It’ll be easy.”

Over the course of the next few hours, I called up every single male in my phone contact list, starting out with the same line each time: “Hey, it’s Michaela! How do you feel about weddings?”

Apparently no one felt much, because not a single person accepted my offer. Even my own brother declined. “Why does no one want to be my date?” I griped. “I’m cute. I’m likeable. Aren’t I?”

“It’s not anything like that, Mickey,” my brother Brandon said. “Everyone knows that you’re only trying to get a date to show Marcus you’re over him. Which you aren’t.”

“But you’re my brother. What’s your excuse?”

“Honestly . . . bringing your own brother as a revenge-date is kind of fucked up.”

He had a point. “Okay, Smart-Ass, what’s your suggestion?” I said testily.

“Ask a complete stranger,” Brandon said sarcastically. “Or better yet, suck it up and go alone. Or, even better, just don’t go.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said. I ran a hand down the side of my face. “God. I should just accept the fact that I’m gonna be alone forever. The soundtrack to my life should just be ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’ and nothing else.”

“Easy, Bonnie Raitt,” Brandon said. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“I’m really not,” I moaned. “I’m just destined to never find love. Ever.”

I hung up with my brother and moped around my house. There was nothing else I could really do. I was going to have to call Marcus and Hana and tell them I couldn’t go. But what could be my excuse? Food poisoning? No, the wedding was in two weeks. Food poisoning wouldn’t last that long. Broken leg? No, because then they’d want to visit me. Dead family member? No, what if they offered condolences to Brandon?

I was contemplating fleeing the country when Leanne came home, eyes shining. “You’re going to love me forever,” she said excitedly.

“And why is that?”

“Seriously, you’ll never guess what I just did, just accept the fact that I’m incredible.”

“I will once you tell me what exactly you just did,” I said impatiently.

“So, I was talking to my co-workers about the wedding, and I mentioned that you had no date ‒”

“You told your co-workers I didn’t have a date?” I interrupted. “Did you know there’s a thing called privacy?”

“Would you just listen?” Leanne said. “So I mentioned you had no date, and one of the guys I work with offered to go with you! Isn’t that great?” Leanne worked in a weird, organic food store downtown, so “great” wasn’t really my initial thought.

I briefly thought of what Brandon had said before. Ask a complete stranger. I wondered what he’d think of this. “A guy I don’t even know offered to be my date for the wedding,” I said slowly. “Does he even know what I look like?”

“Yeah! I showed him your picture after he offered, and he still said he’d go,” Leanne chortled at her joke. “Anyways, so are you in?”

“I have no way to contact him. I don’t even know his name. Leanne, this is crazy.”

“Michaela, you were complaining nonstop about how you had no one to go with, and now you do. His name is Jude Kelly and I have his cell number right here. He’s twenty-three. Come on. It’s just one night.”

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “Okay. Fine. Give it to me.”

With a victorious smirk, Leanne gave me this Jude Kelly person’s number and I typed it into my phone. I waited until she went upstairs to take a shower before I sent him a text.

Hey, it’s Michaela! How do you feel about weddings?