Part 14 (1/2)
”No, Mom. It's a lovely thought, and I'm very thankful for your offer, but having to change dresses midstream will be nothing but a ha.s.sle, so it's not happening.”
”What about wearing that green color you like so much? Or maybe pink? Why does it have to be black?” she badgers.
”Because I like and look good in black. What's nice is I'll actually be able to eat, drink, and circulate at the reception without worrying about someone spilling a tropical drink on my white dress. My outfit will be pretty and functional, so I know I'll be comfortable. Besides, I've always wanted a fancy black c.o.c.ktail dress, and this gown is something I can wear again.”
She snorts. ”To my funeral, maybe.”
”Mom, let it go. You were the one who allowed a saleslady to talk you into a wedding dress you didn't like. You said every time you see your wedding photos, you get mad. You've held a grudge against Priscilla's of Boston for the past forty years. That's not going to happen with me. The black dress is what I'm getting, and it's not going to change.”
”I just want you to be happy,” she says, creeping dangerously close to the border of the Maternal Martyr Zone.
”And I am, so thank you again. I couldn't have done any of this without you. Oh, I almost forgot-I didn't tell you about the shoes I bought.”
”Did you get the open-toe sandals I suggested?”
”No, they were too high and the straps bit into my ankles. I got a really cute pair of Enzos with a heel style I've never seen before. There's a small notch taken out of the back of them, but they're still st.u.r.dy enough that they won't hurt, and they make my legs look great.”
”Black?”
”Um...no.”
”You didn't get black shoes? But what else could you wear with a black dress?”
”Well, they were on sale, which should make you happy. As for color, they're...well, they're actually leopard print and...” My mother suddenly disappears. ”Mom? Mom? Mother, where are you? Mom! MOM! It's just a pair of shoes. STOP TRYING TO DROWN YOURSELF!”
”Do you have any regrets that we aren't inviting any of your family to the wedding?” I ask Fletch.
”Jen, what have I told you about attacking me with conversation the second I come in?” Fletch stows his computer bag in the front hall closet and enters the kitchen.
”I'm sorry. I forgot. Anyway, are you sad that we aren't having any of your people at the wedding?”
Fletch grabs a cold Miller High Life out of the fridge and joins me in the living area, where I'm working on guest lists. ”Not one bit. All my friends are coming, and they feel more like family than my sister or mother ever did. We'd have to seat them at their very own table to accommodate all the crazy they'd bring.”
”I know, but I want to make doubly sure you're OK with it. I can call your mom and apologize if I have to.” Perhaps telling his mother the last time we spoke that it's taken me years to undo all the damage she caused wasn't my most diplomatic course of action. (Mentioning to his sister there was nothing wrong with her a little Haldol91 couldn't cure didn't make me popular, either.) ”Do that and I won't marry you. Think about it, Jen. My mother spent her whole life sitting idly by, allowing my father to make me believe I was worthless and I'd never amount to anything.” Fletch stands and begins to pace across the floor. Whenever we discuss his lousy family, he gets agitated.
”For the longest time, I didn't realize her inaction was just as damaging as my dad's abuse. Although the Army taught me I had potential, you were the first person who truly believed in me. You were the one who convinced me anything was possible. If I hadn't met you, I'd have taken my telecom degree and gotten a job as a $10/hour technician in some small, s.h.i.+tty radio station in Nowhere, Indiana.”
”Oh, come on. You're the second-smartest person I know.92 You'd have become successful without me.” Seriously? He can do long division. IN HIS HEAD!
”No, I'd never have achieved all that I have if I didn't have you beside me. So for her to say, 'You can do better,' the day I call to tell her we're getting married, especially as kind as you'd been to her? No way. Unconscionable. Unforgivable. If you hadn't grabbed the phone out of my hand and said all those things, I would have done so myself.”
”So you don't mind if I put big black X's through their names on the guest list? I'm using a marker, so it's permanent.”
”Strike away. They were toxic, and I'm glad they're out of my life.”
I stow my guest lists and sit on the ottoman across from him. ”What kind of day did you have?”
”Better than usual. Clark's been out of the office. He didn't mention why he'd be gone, but Ernesto told me it's because the s.e.xual hara.s.sment charge against him is finally going to court.”
”Cool. Can he go to jail because of it?”
”No, Jen, it's civil court, not criminal.”
”What's the difference?”
”Do you really want to know?
”Not really.” Blunt honestly is the cornerstone of our relations.h.i.+p.
”And how did your day go?”
”Fan-f.u.c.king-tastic. You'll love this-I got dinged for the dog-walking job Marta at the park referred me for. The owner said although he respected my credentials, he needed someone who was more 'responsible.' Then when I called that media company, they told me they were moving in a different direction. I tried to press them by asking, 'What direction might that be?' and the girl got all s.h.i.+tty and said, 'Not yours.'”
”Heh. Sorry about that, though. I know you're trying.”
”Well, I hope we get a lot of cash for wedding presents because it doesn't seem like I'm going to get a job anytime soon.”
I'm at the Dress Doctor for our weekly fitting. Soheila has constructed my entire wedding gown out of muslin first to get the size exactly right. Once we have the perfect fit, she'll cut apart the cheap fabric and use it as a pattern for the lush black dupioni we've chosen for the actual dress.
It's about 90 degrees outside and I happily shed my sticky street clothes. I stand in the dressing room in my underwear for a couple of minutes to cool down. Finally chilled, I strip out of my regular bra and put on my special wedding foundation garments. The last time I was here, Sohelia pointed at my bustline, grabbed my bra straps, and said, ”These? Need to be up here,” while yanking everything skyward. The new bra she had me buy makes me look like the prow of a s.h.i.+p, and I can practically rest my chin on my own rack. However, Soheila's been right about everything so far, and I trust her implicitly. If she says I need to wear a steel-plated bra, so be it. She hands me the bleached muslin dress, and I slip into it.
When I exit, Sohelia makes the final adjustments before leading me over to the three-way mirror. I step up on the platform and give myself a once-over, and I don't notice my messy ponytail or smeared mascara.
I gasp, ”I look like a real bride!”
Sohelia grins a quiet smile. ”You are a real bride, my friend.”
”I mean, I knew the fit would be great, but I didn't realize the muslin would be so pretty. It's almost a shame you have to cut it up.”
”You will love the finished product. The black will take your breath away.”
”It will if it's even half as nice as this.” I admire myself for a minute, twirling and inspecting the gown from all angles. I bend and stretch, and holding an imaginary bouquet, I do the r.e.t.a.r.ded step-together, step-together walk I vowed would not take place on my wedding day. ”Soheila, do me a favor?”
”Of course.”
”Promise if she calls again you won't tell my mother how nice the dress looked in white.”
I'm getting married in a week and am still technically not engaged. Surely Fletch didn't forget about getting my diamond set, right? He's been really bogged down with work lately because his charming boss thought it would be a good idea to start sending Fletch to Milwaukee three days a week. Although it's a two-hour commute each way, Clark expects Fletch to be in the Milwaukee office during business hours, so he's gone from six a.m. to eight p.m. on those days.93 Fortunately, Fletch is on vacation for the next two and a half weeks, so hopefully he can finally unclench. He was all weird and hyper earlier and gave me the third degree about where I was going. I told him I was getting my hair colored this afternoon, and I'd be back before dinner, and to kindly chill the h.e.l.l out. He's normally such a rock that when he gets tense it impacts not only me but also the cats and dogs. Tucker kept nuzzling Fletch's ankles and Loki pranced and whined.
I'm at the bottom of the half flight of stairs leading to my apartment when Maisy's head appears at the door. She's got something pink by her mouth and my heart practically stops because I think it's a Kate Spade sandal. Lately Fletch leaves the house in such a daze that he sometimes forgets to shut the closet door. While I sleep, Maisy engages in a leather-goods holocaust. I'm down three purses, one piece of luggage, four of my most expensive pairs of shoes, and even though they weren't leather, my Gucci sungla.s.ses. When we bought Bitter Apple antichew spray, Maisy simply ate the bottle.94 I leap up five steps and burst into the house. ”Oh, no, Maisy, what have you done now?” I yelp, leaning over to survey the damage. But Maisy doesn't have a shoe. Instead, she has a piece of pink paper tied around her neck with a plaid ribbon, and in blocky, backward script it says, DeAr MuMMy, PleeAzE mArrY my DadDY...
”Fletch, Fletch, where are you? What's going on?” I call. Loki comes trotting over and he's also wearing a note. I bend down to read it: ...becuZ I DoN'T wanNa B a b.a.s.t.a.r.d 4ever.
It takes me a minute to figure out what just happened.
How cute is this? We have a proposal! I'm really engaged now! Yay! Except I seem to be missing a fiance.
And a ring.
Where is the ring?