“Right, of course.”
“I mean, I think she thought we’d work it out and get married in the end, but that’s not what I’m thinking. So, let’s move on.”
“Sure, for her sake too. I mean if she wants the whole marriage thing, it isn’t fair to keep stringing her along.”
“Exactly.”
“So she’s moving out?”
“After New Years, she’s moving in with her cousin.”
“How is that gonna work?”
“Awkwardly, but her cousin’s place won’t be ready until then and it’s the holidays.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s not happy, but I think she knows it’s the right thing. It sucks it's over Christmas, you know? I feel bad it worked out this way.”
“Hey, you can’t just get married because you feel bad. That's never going to work. It sometimes doesn’t work even when you think you’re head over heels.”
“Exactly.”
Tina came back. They both looked at her and simultaneously said, “Hey.” Dan went back in his cube. Sophie sent him an email.
Good luck.
Thanks.
Finally four thirty rolled around. Sophie shut down her computer, put her coat on and walked outside into the darkness. It was pouring, the rain driving sideways as she ran for the car. By the time she got behind the wheel, she was soaked. She started the engine, put the heat on and for a few minutes, was mesmerized as the wipers slapped back and forth.
Driving slowly through the rain, the lights of the other cars reflected back at her. Fog lifted off the road and swirled around as if someone were blowing cigarette smoke in her face. Occasionally an SUV flew by, spraying even more water at her windshield. She started to daydream.
* * *
Sophie was at home in her newly finished bathroom, the claw foot tub full of bubble bath, candles lit throughout the room, a pile of luxurious white towels and a white hotel style bathrobe hanging from the back of the door. Small bottles of shampoo and lotion were lined up on the windowsill above her. She rested her head against a plastic pillow stuck to the side of the tub and read a book.
FAT TUESDAY
Ash Wednesday she caught an early afternoon flight from New Orleans to Dallas. Several people on her plane had black smudges on their foreheads. Everyone else appeared to be hung over. As a matter of fact, when she went out for her last cup of chicory coffee that morning, the whole city seemed to have a hangover, the smell of stale beer pervasive, trash littering the streets.
She was exhausted. It had been a long five days in the Big Easy. Just trying to get along with nine girls and an overly wrought bride-to-be was exhausting enough. Add booze and the random chunk of hash to the mix and things could get a little tense. She leaned back, closed her eyes and reviewed the past few days.
Sunday morning everyone slept late. Most of the girls were hung over from the hurricanes they drank the night before, including Nan. She thought she heard her puking in the bathroom very early that morning. Good thing Dan warned her about hurricanes.
While everyone slept, she went for a run to Cafe du Monde to get beignets and chicory coffee. Slowly walking back to the hotel through the French Quarter, she took in the sights, falling in love with the city and its architecture. Looking in the windows of a few voodoo shops, she hoped she could get back when they were open. A small funeral procession walked towards her, just a few family members and a jazz band playing a mournful dirge. She stood on the sidewalk watching as they somberly strolled by.
Olivia planned an extensive itinerary for the lovely handmaidens. She began referring to herself and the other girls by that name. They were all at the beck and call of Olivia. Nan referred to her as Bridezilla. She told Nan the two of them were like Cinderella and the other nine girls the evil stepsisters, although sometimes Zoe and Amanda were fun.
Nan and she were the only ones in a room further down the hall from the rest of the girls. Olivia said it was due to an overbooking problem at the hotel. It was Mardi Gras after all. The other nine girls had a series of adjoining rooms, leading to impromptu late night get togethers. They watched Sex in the City reruns and tried out different hairstyles on each other. It was decided that because they all had shoulder length hair or longer, they would all wear the same updo with a single orchid tucked in the back. A team of stylists would come to the house the morning of the wedding and updo their hair.
She was still upset about the diet Nan told her about. Now, not only were they going to be wearing matching three hundred dollar dresses, but also have matching hairstyles. She thought it was creepy. Nan was just worried she wouldn’t lose the weight by Memorial Day weekend. “I’ll be the only one who looks out of place, like a fat cow.”
“You are not a fat cow, stop beating yourself up. You are sexy and voluptuous. How about I cut off my hair? Nick gave me a gift certificate to a hair salon on Newbury Street.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, and three hundred dollars to buy clothes. He wants to mold me into the perfect woman.”
“He sounds like his sister.”
“Yes, he is the evil prince in this tale of the ten handmaidens. So, if I can get up the nerve, I will bite into the apple, or in this case use the gift certificate, and like Rapunzel I will chop off my hair.”
“But it was the evil witch who chopped off Rapunzel’s hair and another evil queen disguised as a hag who gave Snow White the apple. Biting the apple and chopping off the hair were the traps. It’s the prince in both stories who saves them.”
“You’re right. I’m getting things all mixed up. And as we know, in real life there is no Prince Charming to ride in on his white stead and save the day. But as you are finding out, I don’t like being told I have to do something. Aren’t bridesmaids supposed to be your best friends? So you shouldn’t care what they look like, and really, who has ten best friends?”
“I don’t think everyone does it this way.”
“I am eloping, if I ever get married, which is highly unlikely. Anyway, if a week before the wedding you don’t lose the weight, call me and I will use my gift certificate to get my hair cut short, too short for an updo. It will be an act of rebellion and solidarity.”
“You would do that? You know Olivia said no one is to cut their hair too short before the wedding, right?”
“Aren’t you listening? She can’t tell us what to do.”
“What does Nick want you to do with the gift certificate?”
“Get a sleek, sophisticated shoulder length bob. I am thinking a punk rock, spiky do with pink highlights. Or should I go with blue? I just have to get up the nerve to do it or get really drunk. I have deep-seated issues with haircuts, but it might be time to conquer those fears.”
* * *
Returning to the hotel that first morning after her run, a bevy of handmaidens congregated in the lobby.
“There you are."
“Everyone was worried about you. Nan woke up and said you were gone.”
“I went for a run. I found Cafe du Monde. The coffee here is wonderful. I love the chicory.”
“What's all over your face?
She wiped her face, getting white powder on the back of her hand. “Oh, that’s from the beignets. They're doused in powdered sugar. You have to try them.”
Olivia stepped off the elevator, clapping her hands. “Ladies, we are scheduled for the garden tour at two, so let’s get to Brennan’s for brunch. Then we’ll be taking the St. Charles trolley to the Garden District.”
And so it went, every day. Olivia planned all the activities and there was no veering from the schedule. At least they didn’t have to wear the T-shirts again. The only time she had to herself was running in the morning and late at night, perched on the plush towels on top of the toilet, waiting for his call from Colorado.
“I saw a real N’Orleans funeral this morning. It was so awesome. You would have loved it.”
“Wow, where were you when you saw it?”
“In
the French Quarter, coming back from a run to get chicory coffee and beignets. I’m going to get you some coffee. You’ll love it. How was the skiing?”
“Champagne powder. Awesome. Nothing like at home. We were really cruising in the back bowls.”
“Nice.”
“What about brunch and the garden tour?”
“Well, your eggs benedict are better than Brennan's." She heard him chuckling. "The garden tour was a lot better than I expected, such beautiful houses and courtyards. One of the girls knows someone who goes to Tulane and she took us on the tour. I was looking for that house the vampires lived in, but I couldn’t find it.”
“There is a house with vampires?”
“There are all sorts of spooky things here. I love it. I want to go to a voodoo shop. I need to get a juju.”
“What’s a juju?”
“It’s a little charm you wear to keep evil spirits away.”
“Can you get me one, too? I can wear it when I’m flying.”
Monday was parade day on their schedule. Later that evening, they had dinner at another expensive restaurant and saw some jazz at Preservation Hall.
“How was the skiing today?”
“Awesome, but my legs are really burning. I’m used to skiing ice not snow. I always forget how deep the snow is out here. Plus I think it’s the altitude. We took a hot tub earlier. The outdoor pools and tubs are really nice here at the hotel Mark’s cousin works at. He slides us a pool key. It’s snowing so much I think it’s technically a blizzard. I got some really cool shots of Mark in the outdoor pool with this big snow hat on the top of his head. He got one of me too. It’s in my phone. I’ll send it to you.”
“I’ll send you a picture of some floats. We were at a parade today. I caught, no lie, fifty necklaces. If I had a car, I would hang some from my rearview mirror.”
“Can I have some for my car?”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll decorate my Christmas tree with them, too. Where are you staying?”
“Didn’t I tell you this? Mark’s cousin is ski bumming out here this winter. He has a place in West Vail he rents with four other people. It’s okay, leaves me money for the important stuff, lift tickets and beer. Have you ever skied here? It’s unbelievable.”
“No. Kind of out of my budget.”
“Well, mine too. We’re at the low rent end of town out past Matterhorn Circle on Gore Creek Drive. We brought our sleeping bags and we’re couch surfing. I had to bring my earplugs ‘cus Mark snores like a bear and I’m on the pull out sofa with him. If I catch him spooning me, he’s out on the deck. When are you going to see some music?”
“Well, we went to Preservation Hall tonight, but it was kind of a tourist trap. I'm going to lose this crowd tomorrow night and get to Tipitinas. Nan is down with this idea too. It will be mobbed because it’s Fat Tuesday, but so what. Maybe someone famous will hop on stage. That happens during Mardi Gras, you know.”
“Yeah, I bet it does. How about the Ninth Ward?”
“No one wants to go but me. They think it’s too depressing and dangerous, although the girl from Tulane offered to take us. I guess they think they’ll get mugged or something. These girls don’t get out of their bubble much.”
“Maybe you and I will go back someday and see everything you’re missing. I’d like to take one of those boats through the bayou. What do they call those boats?”
“I think they’re airboats? Does that sound right? Hey, do you promise? About traveling here someday?”
“I’d go anywhere with you. You name it, anywhere you want.”
“Macchu Piccu.”
“Done. That’s on my list too. And Patagonia.”
“Yes, Patagonia too.”
When she got back to bed that night, Nan was awake.
“Who are you talking to every night in the bathroom?”
“My friend Katie in Oregon. She’s in grad school and she’s having a tough time. The classes are really hard and she’s also working, plus she just broke up with her boyfriend.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re talking to a girlfriend. You can trust me, I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know that, Nan. It’s just, I don’t know. I can’t. I still live with Olivia’s brother.”
Her phone buzzed. She opened a funny picture of him sitting in a hot tub with a pile of snow on his head. He looked sunburnt. She covered her mouth, trying to suppress a laugh.
“You’re really smitten, aren’t you?”
“Stop it. You’re assuming things.” She sent a picture of the funeral she saw the first morning.
“ Nick travels a lot for business, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. Just about every week.”
“So, you’re alone a lot, plus you said you were thinking about breaking up with him this weekend. Are you in love with this guy you’re talking to in the bathroom?”
Her phone buzzed. Do you have a picture of yourself?
“Hmm? What did you say?” She was scrolling through the photos in her phone and found one Nan took of her standing next to a guy in costume at one of the parades. They were in front of a float, his back to the camera, looking over his shoulder, with his hand on his hip. He was dressed in full black leather, head to toe, with holes cut out for his bare butt cheeks, assless chaps as they were commonly referred to. He had a Mohawk and was wearing kohl eye makeup.
“I’m just saying, when you’re texting over there, you look like someone who’s in love. You're glowing. You can confide in me, you know.”
“I know. I sense that. But I have nothing to confide.” She looked back down at her buzzing phone.
Who’s that? Your date for the evening?
Yes, he brought me to a cemetery late last night, and we sacrificed a chicken, smearing ourselves with its blood and howling at the full moon.
“Okay, be that way. I know you are talking to a guy and I’m pretty sure it’s not Nick. I knew Nick in high school, we go way back you know.”
“Hey, you’re still coming to Tipitinas with me tomorrow, right? Don’t be mad, I have nothing to tell. Katie is my best friend since we were two years old. I just sent her that picture you took of me with that guy at the float.”
“Oh my God, that was so funny. Yeah, we’re going to Tipitinas. Zoe said she might join us. Well if the two a.m. boyfriend thinks that picture is funny, maybe he won’t mind your punk haircut.”
“Will you stop it? I do not have a two a.m. boyfriend, but if I did he would love me no matter what. Even if I completely shaved my head, he would love me.”
“He seems wonderful.”
“He is.” She winked at Nan, who widened her eyes then put the pillow over her face, giggling and kicking her legs up and down.
Her phone buzzed. You are one crazy lady. You’re scarin’ me. Make sure you get me that juju. I think I am going to need it. But seriously, watch out for yourself. Tomorrow’s going to be crazy. I need you to get back home safe and in one piece. I am planning to keep you up all night on Sunday.
I am planning to meet you at Logan in nothing but my raincoat.
Promise? Ok, you’re driving me crazy. I’m taking a cold shower. Go to bed, I think you’ve been drinking some powerful voodoo potions.
Good night. Check under the bed before you go to sleep tonight. There might be a vampire under there. Do you have any garlic? It scares them away.
How do you know all these things? Are you a secret Twilight fan?
Every girl is.
Nan was shouting and giggling. “I knew it, I knew it. Do you have a picture? Please, pretty please.”
“All right, but do not breathe a word to anyone.” She got up and climbed in Nan’s bed while scrolling through the photos in her phone. She found one from the day at the beach on Plum Island. It was a particularly luscious one. He was wearing long boarder shorts and no shirt, jumping in the air reaching for a Frisbee. She could clearly see his six-pack abs. His hair was blowing behind him and the photo really captured how blue his eyes were.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Not a thing like Nick DeLuca.”
“Not one tiny bit.”
“Please tell me all about him.” So as the other handmaidens planned the group wedding hairstyle down the hall, she lounged in bed and told Nan the story from the very first night on the train.
* * *
Fat Tuesday started out crazy but ended uneventfully. It began in the Ritz Carlton spa with a cleansing massage for everyone. It was meant to get all the toxins out after three nights of drinking and fine dining. The massage was nice but nothing like the ones she had been getting used to in the apartment above the garage in Newburyport. Besides, it cost her one hundred twenty five dollars, not including tip.
They headed to Bourbon Street around one in the afternoon. Olivia felt if they started too early, they’d never make it through the evening. They all brought costumes to wear. She had a large white men’s dress shirt that fit her like a very short dress. She paired it with sheer leggings that had one red leg and one black leg, a black beret and high heels. She added a black bow tie and ten of her beaded necklaces from the parade. She and Nan discussed this outfit by email before they met. Nan had pretty much the same look, but with a long black tie and her stockings were all black.
Before they headed out to the mayhem on the streets, they set up a Mardi Gras shrine on the dressing table in their room. They placed a circle of beads around a votive candle made of what looked like sand crystals pressed into a picture of Jesus wearing a crown of thorns. She scattered her juju charms around it. They put a bottle of vodka in the corner of the table and a small plastic bottle of orange juice on the other corner. An ashtray with a joint was placed strategically off center. Standing together on the bed in front of the mirror, they took a picture of the shrine with their legs reflected back at them, three black legs and one red. Nan was giggling nervously. “This is very weird. Are you sending this to Nick?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How about that two a.m. boyfriend of yours?”
The Reverse Commute Page 15
