Not that she doesn't under ordinary circumstances, I'm saying that she looks nicer than usual.

Which is not to say that I don't ALWAYS think she -

Aw, forget it.

After all, she's here with someone else. Someone who isn't you. Not that you should be surprised by that, there are many men in the world who obviously are not you because if you were many men it wouldn't be normal. Obviously.

A hockey player. Who isn't even that good. That's who she moved on to. She moved on from you to Mr. Hockey. And is apparently having a lot of sex with him...bet she didn't give him an offer of Chinese Opera and no sex. Bet she didn't get mad when she had to wait around for him because practice ran long or a game went into overtime.

There's something about Mallory and me and music. It's bizarre, almost uncanny...but every time a major thing happens between us, it involves music...well, okay, no, but twice...Including tonight. Chinese Opera...now this.

Aw, come off it, Seaborn, you had your chance, you blew it, it's your own fault. Well, partly Leo's fault because of the whole driving of the wedge, but mostly your own fault. You had a choice, you didn't call her, you walked the other way when you saw her coming to visit her father after the shooting, you made your decision.

So why am I sitting here, staring over the box, trying to spot her?

~*~*~*~

He looks just as handsome as ever. Same nervous smile, same sparkling eyes, same clutsy tendencies...I don't like the new hair so well, but I can live with that, really I can.

Wait a second there, Mal. Turn your head right about 90 degrees to the right. Look at the man sitting beside you. Yes. Him. Y'know, your boyfriend.

Except you don't feel for him the way you do for Sam.

Man, I've gotta stop talking about myself in the second person. It's just annoying and confusing, especially to anyone who hears me.

Except this is just me here, no one else. Okay now.

He looked so shocked when he saw me. Even though I know my father must've told him...or told SOMEONE, and anyone who knew Sam would've mentioned it to him.

So why did he look like that? And why'd he sorta toss the glass over his shoulder?

Or that coulda just been Sam being Sam. I hadn't seen him in so long I don't really remember.

And that was his fault. That was entirely his fault, he didn't call after the thing with the call girl, and he really should've. He didn't call after the shooting, in fact I saw him coming down the hall and he ducked into a corridor. So he had multiple opportunities to make contact with me and didn't and so it's his fault.

Oh, who am I kidding? I have a phone, I could've called him. These aren't the days of old, women don't have to wait around home for men to call, they can take initiative...As I could have, only I was too busy being bitter for the article and trying to find more things to blame him for. And he is to blame for a lot of it. Like why we never had an actual thing. Well, that was partly Dad's fault, he was driving the wedge between us...But it was Sam's fault and I'm over that now.

So why am I craning my neck up, trying to see into the Presidential Box to see if he's there?