by Hope Lyda
She puts her hands on slender hips and hikes up her polka-dotted silk pajama bottoms. “Could it really be this easy?”
“To move?” I pick up Elmo and smell his fur. He is my living security blanket.
“To change everything. My work, my address, my confidence, my parents, for goodness’ sake.”
Her optimism is catching. Something fuels the blood in my veins, and I am excited, as if my life is on the cusp of change as well. “Don’t forget, we have been praying about your career for over a year. There was a lot of heart labor and sweat equity put into this decision.” I resist telling her I have recorded more than a hundred library hours in my day planner.
“The prayers I won’t forget,” she spins twice more. “I hope I have this much faith in my future when I get to New York.” Caitlin reaches for the wall to steady herself.
“We need faith in the future God has for us,” I say for my benefit more than hers.
“You’re right.” She sits down where her beanbags used to be. “After all this, I still want to think I’m in control. Now, that is baggage I wouldn’t mind leaving behind.”
“I do it too. I invest in false securities and then wonder why I am unhappy.”
“Like your life makeover last year.”
“Exactly. I had reasonable inspiration but not the right motivation. Change can be so therapeutic, but it should move you forward, not just keep you tied to the same old lies.”
Caitlin thinks about this for a moment and then falls backward, as if the weight of reflection is too much for her. She stomps her feet and yells. “Sadie is stinkin’ getting married today!”
“I hope you aren’t planning to provide the toast this evening.”
“What time is it?” she asks without changing position.
I spin my Swatch to the top of my wrist. “It is eleven o’clock.”
She stomps her feet again. “Sadie is stinkin’ getting married in eight hours!”
“Again with the sweet talk.”
Caitlin sits upright and stares at me with serious eyes. “My change is easier than your change.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not really wanting to hear her answer.
She looks down at her toes and her ponytail bobs atop her head. She says softly, “I didn’t want to think something was wrong—between you and Beau—because it would have meant not believing in the perfect relationship.” She stops and looks at the coved ceiling. “Not believing in what I hoped would happen to me.”
“I never asked to be the poster girl for the single women in my life. Certainly Sadie has taken care of that.”
“But we don’t all relate to Sadie. She seems too perfect, whereas you are…”
“This conversation isn’t helping my morale, in case that was your objective.”
“You are real, Mari. And we were so happy for you and Beau.”
“And now that things are not going so well?” I say this with more emotion than I intend.
“We want the best for you. And—I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds here—but I don’t know that Beau is it. You don’t need my two-bits of wisdom, but if you are needing someone in your corner, I’m here for you.”
“For another day, anyway.”
She gives me a hug
“Look at us—a circus act.” Angelica takes in the mirror’s reflection of the three of us in our bridesmaid dresses.
“It’s not so bad,” I say, softening her comments while smoothing out what I think is a wrinkle, but turns out to be a contrasting stripe of gray.
“I’m telling you, we could take this on the road and make good money.”
The door to the church’s nursery opens up, and Melanie bounds in with her matching disaster. She joins us in our lineup.
I concede. “Okay, now maybe we could travel.”
“What are you girls talking about? Isn’t this fun? I’ve always wanted to wear a fancy dress and be the belle of the ball.” Melanie curtseys.
I adjust my bangs. “Technically, that would be Sadie’s role. Today, anyway.”
She laughs and spreads a thin layer of clear gloss on her lips while crouching close to the mirror.
“I like your hairdo, Caitlin,” Melanie says enthusiastically.
Caitlin touches the edges of her hair proudly. “It’s my bed-head design number twenty-one,” she says, smiling shyly. “I woke up with this incredible flip in my normally subtle front curl, so I had to add another hairdo to the list.”
Melanie is baffled but still smiles with admiration.
“See?” Caitlin removes the rhinestone clip from atop her head.
“Holy cowlick, bridesmaid!” I say. The others nod, too afraid to name the peaked wall of hair above Caitlin’s small head.
Satisfied that her point has been made, Caitlin secures the hair back in place.
“Showtime, ladies.” Sadie enters the room, and for the first time we see the bridal beauty in all her splendor.
“Ooh!” We say in unison.
Sadie is breathtaking. Bare shoulders lead to a close-fitting bodice vertically lined with white silk ribbon which flow into a full silk skirt and a long train.
“I wanted the maker of my fabulous veil to do the honors.” She holds up the beautiful head piece and layers of tulle to Caitlin. The two of them spend a few private moments in front of the mirror while the rest of us stand in the background pointing out what we like best about Sadie’s dress.
A knock on the door alerts us to Kevin Milano’s entrance. The groom cannot see Sadie, but the expensive photographer can. He snaps a few candid shots of Sadie and Caitlin and then asks us all to follow him to the church courtyard.
We are all giggling as though this was our first and not our umpteenth round of being a bridesmaid. I become emotional seeing Sadie walk beside the fountain in her dress. Her skin glows, her eyes sparkle, and she looks like the most radiant bride ever. Kevin thinks so too. He is taking countless shots of her as she sits near the water, runs her fingers through the spray, and laughs at our random comments and advice.
“When you walk down the aisle, don’t feel obligated to make eye contact with the guests,” Angelica says. “It just slows you down, and you always leave out someone important.”
“Keep the dangling strands on the right of your head brushed back, or your eyes will be hidden in the photos of you two lighting the unity candle.” Caitlin preserves her status as the hair princess.
Sadie starts to look anxious, as if the details are becoming overwhelming.
“When Carson leans in to kiss you, tilt your head up. The last wedding I went to, the bride tilted down and the groom got her nose,” Angelica adds.
“Don’t tear the tags off of your mattress!” I say with conviction. Everyone turns to look at me and I shrug. I know I have nothing to offer Sadie in this moment except community and comic relief when she needs it.
Aisle Hope
You are in fine form,” I say to Angelica, who is tap-dancing in the church foyer while we wait for the processional music to begin.
“Peyton will be here. I’m nervous, okay?” She bites her lip.
“Have you seen him?”
“No.” She looks out over the crowd from the safety of a palm plant. “Yes. There he is. He’s just sitting down next to Beau. He’s standing next to some woman and…I don’t believe it.” Her face emerges from the plant pale and sweaty.
“What?” I hand her a tissue from a nearby box and motion for her to pat her face. I peer through the palm but can barely make out Peyton’s head next to Beau. They are talking and laughing. “He looks good.”
“So does the woman next to him.” She starts gulping her breaths and bends over slightly to catch more oxygen. “I waited too long. What was I thinking, Mari? Why didn’t you and everyone else slap me and ask what the heck I was doing? Why!” Angelica now grabs me by the sleeve.
I try to get a better view, but the woman is wearing a hat. “I don’t think she is with him, Angelica. You are overreacting.�
�� But just as the assurance leaves my lips, I see the hat turn, the pretty profile smile at Peyton, and Peyton lean in to nudge the pretty smiling profile.
Caitlin approaches us from the direction of the bathroom. Her hair clip had slipped and the wall of hair had returned. Now she has all of her hair secured in an elegant chignon.
“Can you see Carson?” Caitlin asks, peeking through the crack between the door and the wall.
Angelica does not address the question but continues her panicked ranting, “She grabbed his arm when she turned the corner to sit down. That’s an affectionate gesture. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot.”
The music begins and I turn on my wailing friend. “You are not an idiot. You made a healthy choice for yourself instead of doing what everyone else thought was the thing to do. We should all be so smart.”
I release my hold on her wrist and realize I am lecturing both of us.
“What?” Caitlin is scanning the room for an obvious disaster and sees nothing.
“Are you ready, girls?” Sadie comes up behind us in the hallway. The addition of beautiful diamond earrings has done the impossible—made her look more breathtaking. She notices my look. “These are the ones from Carson. Aren’t they perfect? Isn’t this all amazing?”
There is no need to answer her; the evening is undoubtedly perfect. I feel a bit sad for Sadie that we are her opening act down the aisle with Angelica one shallow breath away from a panic attack, but it is time.
Harry and some little girl, who is a distant cousin, start off with the help of the wedding coordinator. She claps her hands lightly to set their pace.
“Caitin, that’s your cue.” I usher her to stand between the opened sanctuary doors and she has a false start—her Japanese purse tassels get caught on the door handle. I unhook it and push her forward. She regains her balance quickly, but the wedding hostess gives me a dirty look.
Angelica freezes. Her eyes are as big as Ding Dongs, which remind me of my extreme hunger. “I cannot do this,” she says with a tremble in her lower lip.
Sadie steps in between us and takes Angelica’s hand. “Are you nervous, honey?”
I recognize the voice. It is the one Sadie used with Harry before she figured out he was reading Thoreau and Keats.
“I blew it. Peyton is out there with another woman. She is attractive and confident enough to wear a big hat in public. He deserves someone like that.”
Sadie takes the tissue from her hand and uses it to wipe Angelica’s nose. “Then let him see what he is missing.” Sadie steps back and Melanie rushes up behind her to straighten the train.
I lean in to Angelica’s ear as the music begins again for her entrance. “She might have the confidence to wear a big hat, but you have the style and panache to wear a psychedelic dress!”
Angelica nods, satisfied with this thought. The wedding hostess positions her toward the altar and gives her elbow a solid tap.
“You see,” I say, “sometimes a little force is necessary.” I wink. She does not smile but waves like a traffic controller. This is my cue to make up time in the procession by quickly following Melanie. I can hear her giggling nervously behind her bouquet of lilies.
I take my place on the top step and watch as Sadie makes her entrance. Everyone gasps with admiration while the bride elegantly saunters down the aisle on her uncle’s arm. I look over at Carson, who is completely enraptured. He wipes his eyes quickly and scratches his cheek to cover his sentimentality.
Our friends are standing as a couple before us, reverently watching the minister and nodding to his words of commitment, covenant, and unconditional love. A soloist rings out a rendition of a song that makes me want to go pick out china patterns. I glance toward Beau, who is checking his BlackBerry, which I didn’t even know he owned. But Peyton is looking straight at me. He shrugs toward Beau like “what can you do?” and then he raises his wrist, points just below it, and mouths something at me. I squint to show my confusion. He must think I am giving him a dirty look because he points to his girlfriend with the hat and shakes his head. I squint again—this time intending a dirty look and route my gaze to the nearly weds.
And then I get it.
The purses. Peyton was motioning to remind me about the message in Angelica’s purse. I glance at Angelica, but there is no way to communicate with her now.
Sadie and Carson walk toward the unity candle. Like sunflowers trailing the sun, we bridesmaids delicately turn our faces and shift our bodies to follow our radiant friends.
The soloist returns for a song that involves wings and soaring. Whatever it is, I cannot follow because I’m staring at the intricate hem of Sadie’s dress. Pearls are sewn into the swirls of silk trim. Sadie told me she envisioned this dress all of her life. I asked when she had this dream of yards of silk. It came to her mind shortly after she dreamed about the man she was to marry. So when she saw the dress in the magazine, and later the man across the room, she just knew.
I look across the room. Beau is keying in a message with his thumbs.
“And do you, Carson, take Sadie to be your lawfully wedded…”
I’ve never envisioned a dress.
“I do,” he says sweetly.
I’ve never dreamed of a groom.
“And do you, Sadie, take Carson to be your lawfully wedded…”
Will I even know?
“I do,” Sadie says with confidence and eloquence.
I’ll hope so.
After we had regally made our way back down the aisle I whisper to Angelica, “Open your purse.”
She slowly follows my strange instruction and her red eyes brighten and her posture completely changes. Angelica passes the note to me.
On the back of the receipt slip, clever, visionary Peyton had months before written “She’s my sister. Now will you go out with me?”
The Elephant in the Room
Could you be any louder?” I ask of Angelica, who is munching on corn chips in my backseat. I have been assigned the role of designated driver from the church over to the Mesa restaurant. Nobody plans to drink, but everyone plans to eat.
A lot.
We have all been dieting for the big day and we are finally free. We are pathetic representations of all that is wrong with fashion magazines, peer pressure, and horizontal stripes.
“I’m calorie deprived. Eating with my mouth open allows me to more fully enjoy the flavors. The oxygen enhances the crunch.”
“But if I strangle you, that oxygen effect will lessen,” I say, looking at my rearview mirror. Angelica sticks out her tongue and Caitlin claps her hands. They both are seated in the backseat.
“What’s with the Driving Miss Daisy reenactment?”
“We decided that two women dressed in identical, striped dresses sitting up front is more of a road hazard than two women dressed in identical…”
I hold up my hand. “Got it.”
“I’ll bet Sadie and Carson will take the long way to the Mesa so they can take in the romantic view of the river. Do you think we will have to wait to eat?”
“I’m pretty sure that is the proper thing to do.” Schoolmarm again.
“Is Beau’s nose out of joint because we insisted that you drive us?” Angelica asks, licking every grain of salt from her fingers. “He didn’t seem very happy tonight. Was something going on with work?”
“For me to know what is going on would require Beau and me to converse. There has been no conversing.”
“Trouble in paradise?” My snacking friend doesn’t know how right she is. I hear her opening up another bag of food.
“Oh, I love frosted animal crackers,” squeals Caitlin.
“If you must know, Beau and I will be facing off tonight.”
Caitlin stalls placing a pink elephant in her mouth. “Shouldn’t you wait until after all the wedding activities are over? In case…” She bites into the sugar, afraid to go further with her sour thoughts.
“In case things get ugly?” I challenge.
“
No. I was going to say in case he wants the chance to fix things.”
“Just because I am drowning my single sorrows in food does not mean I am not picking up the left-out-of-the-loop vibe. What are you not mentioning?” asks Angelica.
“I’m tired of talking. I want to celebrate our friend’s marriage. I promise to share all the gruesome details after Beau and I talk. But I really want to be in this moment. Everything changes after this weekend.”
They nod. We are all silent for the next few minutes as I make the turn down a long, cobbled drive lined with old posts bearing antique lanterns. I had read that they purposely carved lots of slow curves for the driveway so that only the final turn would reveal the beauty of the 1920s mansion to visitors.
The amber hues of sunset showcase the beautiful hacienda that was transformed into a restaurant a few years ago. Sadie had been invited to the opening weekend, but the rest of us have never been here. We have, however, been salivating over the thought of its renowned blend of Spanish and Cuban cuisine for months.
“This is the most romantic place I have ever seen. Even in my dreams.” Caitlin unfolds from the car after Angelica.
“Hey, the sky looks like the color of that gaudy birthday sweater you gave me,” Angelica offers her lack of romantic notions as she adjusts her slip indiscreetly.
A Cuban Charanga band welcomes us with high energy conga players, inspiring us to dance our way to the entry. Sadie and Carson did not take longer than us but are at the door greeting their guests.
We walk to the punch fountains and fill our colorful flute glasses. I hear Carson greeting Beau. My half turn places me in line with him as he peers over his friend’s shoulder at me. He winks.
“There’s your guy. Now I will go find mine.” Angelica gleams. “That feels good to say. Am I being presumptuous?”
“We’ll find out,” I offer with a noncommittal wave. I can see on my friend’s face that this was not very encouraging. I set aside my own trouble for a moment and look her in the eyes. “You’ve avoided love long enough. There were times we all wanted to slap you—for many reasons, but mainly to point out that you were risking a really good thing. The guy’s wedding date is his sister. Go get him.”
