6. Lemon Juice

You return to your spot before speeches start. A sequence of drinks, bequeathed to your partner's absent seat by their relatives, help you join in the audience's patient laughter. You do not recall the speeches' particulars.

The dance floor opens and you ignore cake. You search for your partner, giving them the benefit of the doubt or yourself the appearance thereof. Your bladder detours your search.

The bathroom does not divulge your partner but you do wash your hands. The hotel lobby has a wall aquarium. Frank is watching a pleco fish clean the glass with a circular mouth rapidly pulsing with sucks.

You burp.

Chris: 'Hello again.'

'Things are winding up in there.' Frank throws invisible tennis balls down the lobby.  'People are drifting to a club that's, that's...'

'Location irrelevant. Last drinks, however, is not for a while.'

You continue to search for your partner:

a) in the aforementioned club, with Frank and Chris.

b) by asking their parents.

So the three of you skip to the club with chained arms. No hands are held because hands are holding shoes. Security watches the chain side-trot through the entrance. Chris politely leads you to the bar whilst Frank rushes you there.

Your knee hits something: 'Ow.'

Frank: 'Don't look now, but Megan's at that table.'

Chris looks: 'James' girlfriend?'

Correction: 'Soon to be ex.'

'You're -' Insight bubbles up with your gas. '- confident.'

Chris concedes: 'Nah, that's par James' course.'

'I should give my regards before she becomes another forgotten name.' Frank intends to make a move. 'Who is she with?'

You provide further depthful insights: 'People.'

Frank looks to Chris, who shakes head: 'Not drunk enough.'

So Frank turns to you. He presses his hands together in prayer. You look to Chris, who shrugs:

'Don't?'

You:

support Frank's play.

stay with Chris at the bar.