When it rains, it really does pour.   Sometimes, it doesn’t even pour. Sometimes, it’s just that one extra raindrop that you could have done without.

 Firstly, I spent the next few days after  that frantic call from my friend trying to  figure out just who this Grace person  was. Pathetic, I know. It wasn’t as if I  thought remembering exactly who she  was would improve or worsen my lot in  love affairs. It was just one of those  things, like when the name of a song is  on the tip of your tongue and you’re  trying your best to remember it, but  can’t. Plus, who knows, her story,  whatever it was, might inspire me.

 Secondly, my frantic friend called again. This time she was guarded. It was clear that she was still reeling from the disappointment of our last call. It was also clear that she had called with the sole purpose of relaying some bit of news.  She chitchatted a bit about this and that. It was an old game between us.

I played along until she ventured into territory I did not want to explore. How was William* doing, she asked slyly.  He was the picture of perfect health, I assured her. What exactly is going on between you two, she got nosy. It was my cue to end the game.  I got ready to invent some chore that needed attending or recognize very suddenly how drained work had left me.

Before I could escape, she gave up her news. It must be “wedding season” or something, she laughed a bit too nonchalantly. Same as funeral season, we joked quite lamely. Her mother, still the social queen, had gotten invitations to at least three weddings of people we both knew.  Though the idea of three weddings irked me a bit, the names she rattled off were pretty predictable.   I waited patiently, knowing the bomb was probably on its way. I didn’t have long to wait. There was a significant pause.

Do you remember Abby*?

I remembered Abby.

Yeah, well I got a wedding invite from her in the mail!

I didn’t hear anything else.

Boy did I remember Abby! Indeed, not to sound too mean but it was specifically because I remembered Abby that I had a sinking feeling.  Here was proof beyond proof that there was clearly something wrong with me!

And thirdly, saving the very best for last, there was still William. I’d managed to avoid meeting him in person for a number of days. I also made sure to avoid thinking about him; I buried myself in work and trying to remember Grace. But after the Abby bomb (that’s a long story that probably shouldn’t be told), I needed someone sane-ish to talk to and William was (surprise, suprise) available.

Ironies of ironies, it turned out I was right; William was just what I needed to forget the clanging of various wedding bells. We chitchatted. We teased each other. We shared the latest in our lives. Then, like William, he had to be William and spoil it all.  A friend of his was getting married in a few months time.  I sighed inwardly.  This friend of his had been in and out of relationships but had now found ‘the one’. I sighed some more.

He, William, wanted me to go with him as his date. I died.

*Not real name

NEXT UPDATE: OCTOBER 3rd 2011