For the Love of Friends

by Confino, Sara Goodman

  “You made it!” Caryn said. “Lily, you’ll be honest with me. What do you think of this one?”

  Before I could answer, the older woman who had been holding the train of the dress dropped it and gasped, rushing to my side. “Clear liquids only around the dresses,” she snapped, starting to grab the cup from my hand.

  “Uh, hang on,” I said, taking a huge gulp from the straw before she wrestled it away from me, holding the cup like it was full of red paint instead of a mostly melted latte.

  I made a face at Caryn, who shrugged. “What do you think?” she repeated.

  “It’s—nice?” I said. It wasn’t. A princess ball gown was fine if you were into that, but Caryn, queen of the perfectly tailored work clothes, looked uncomfortable and silly.

  “It’s gorgeous,” the blonde in the pale-pink dress purred. That was honestly the only way to tell them apart. Pale pink, baby blue, mellow yellow, and dark pink, all with floral or floral-and-paisley designs. They could have all been sisters. Put Caryn in a green floral sheath dress and she would be the missing quintuplet. All angles, bones, and pin-straight blonde hair, each with at least two carats of unethically sourced diamond weighing down their left hands.

  Caryn wrinkled her nose. “It’s lovely. But it’s not me.” She turned to the simpering saleswoman. “It’s too young. I’d like something a little more elegant.”

  “I have just the dress,” she said, ushering Caryn back into the changing room.

  Another salesperson arrived out of nowhere with a tray of champagne glasses and offered me one, which I took gratefully. Although at ten in the morning, I would have preferred my coffee.

  I was still standing, awkwardly, with the rest of the bridesmaids not seeming to notice that I was one of them. “So, uh, hi,” I said to the seated posse. “I’m Lily. I work with Caryn.”

  They hesitated, looking me over, then Olivia, Caryn’s sister and maid of honor, introduced herself, and the rest followed suit. Caroline, Mia, and Dana had all attended the same prestigious private high school together. And Caroline, in the yellow dress, was Greg’s sister.

  I sat in the open chair and their conversation immediately returned to dress designers. I recognized the name Vera Wang, but beyond that, I was lost.

  “Really, I don’t know why she didn’t plan a weekend trip to Kleinfeld’s for this,” Mia said. “She could have been on Say Yes to the Dress!”

  Caroline shuddered, tilting her already surgically upturned nose even further in the air. “Kleinfeld’s is so generic. And Caryn isn’t tasteless enough to want to be on that.”

  “Of course,” Mia said quickly, deferring almost apologetically to Caroline’s judgment. “It would have been nice to spend a girls’ weekend in New York though. The bridal salons up there are just so much more chic.”

  “We’ll talk her into it if she doesn’t find anything down here,” Olivia said. “I doubt any of us would object to a weekend getaway!”

  I had less than nothing to contribute, and no money left in the budget for such a trip.

  Eventually Caryn emerged in the next dress, which was skintight to the knee, where it flared into a sea of feathers.

  Olivia started to cry, and I commiserated. Okay, I thought crying was a little extreme, but it was heinous. It looked like a swan had exploded at the bottom of her dress. “It’s just so perfect,” Olivia said, her eyes glistening as she dabbed at the corners to avoid smudging her makeup. I had never seen anyone pretty cry before. Ugly cry? Sure. But Olivia actually looked better when she cried. It wasn’t fair.

  Wait, did she say it was perfect?

  I looked around. The other girls were nodding in agreement, their faces cast from the same mold.

  Caryn burst into laughter. “Lily, you have no poker face! At all!”

  They all turned to me and I tried desperately to arrange my face into something resembling theirs. Unfortunately, I still had my original nose and ability to move my forehead, so that wasn’t possible. I settled for trying to look like I didn’t hate it.

  “You don’t like it?” Mia asked, incredulous.

  “I—um—Caryn, do you like it?”

  “You pinned one just like it,” Caroline said pointedly to Caryn before she could respond. “The Versace? Remember?”

  Caryn studied herself in the three-way mirror and shook her head. “It’s beautiful. But the feathers are a little too much, I think.”

  “Something a bit simpler?” the saleslady asked. Caryn nodded and retreated back into the dressing room.

  “I tried on something similar for my wedding,” Caroline confided. “It was gorgeous of course, but I just didn’t have the curves to pull it off. You need more of an hourglass figure for a dress like that.”

  “But not too curvy,” Mia said. “If you’re too hippy, white just isn’t your friend.”

  “No,” Caroline said in an exaggerated whisper. “Caryn would really be better off in ivory. It’s more forgiving.”

  Guess I’m not wearing white at my wedding, I thought, horrified. No one defended Caryn, but a stormy look crossed Dana’s face so quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it before it was replaced by an utterly bland expression. I took another swig of champagne. This was going to be a long day.

  Caryn stepped out a few minutes later in a simple satin sheath. It was draped at the neckline to give the illusion of cleavage, which Caryn didn’t really have, and looked like something Zelda Fitzgerald would have worn before diving into a fountain. I adored it.

  “Do you want something that plain?” Dana asked.

  “It’s too basic,” Olivia announced.

  “You look like you’re wearing a nightgown.”

  “A little tacky.”

  Caryn looked to me, and I bit the inside of my lip. I thought it was perfect. Put a long strand of pearls on her and one of those short veils that just skimmed the face, and I couldn’t imagine a more elegant wedding dress. But Caryn didn’t seem to be a fan, so I shook my head. The bridesmaids looked at me with the first hint of approval I had seen so far, which I realized had nothing to do with my reaction being tailored to Caryn’s. They only cared if I agreed with them. But I just wanted Caryn to feel good in her dress. And I had more of a poker face than she thought. “Too simple. I like the neckline though.”

  Caryn smiled reflexively at my reflection in the mirror, then retreated to the dressing room again.

  We left the store around noon and went to the second bridal salon, where we sipped more champagne and Caryn seemed to try on the same nine dresses.

  “Don’t be discouraged,” Mia said. “No one finds their dress in the first store they go to.”

  Dana nodded. “As long as you get it with seven months to go, you’ll be fine.”

  “Seven months?” I asked. “Why seven months?”

  “It takes that long to order a quality dress,” Olivia explained. “They’re made from scratch to order.”

  “Oh.”

  I suggested we break for lunch between shops two and three, but Caryn said we didn’t have time between appointments. Besides, they were all doing juice cleanses and not eating solid foods right now.

  “They’re really wonderful for flushing the toxins out of your system,” Caroline said. “And it’ll help you take off those extra pounds in plenty of time for the wedding. I’ll send you the info for a weight-loss specific plan.”

  I stared at her in absolute horror. What extra pounds? I wanted to ask. Were there days when I looked in the mirror and wished I could lose a few pounds? Of course. But I had never had a virtual stranger tell me that I needed to lose weight before.

  I was too shocked to make a snappy comeback and instead mumbled something that sounded like “thanks” as I looked at the four bridesmaids and wondered again what exactly I was doing there. They didn’t even eat! It explained their size, but it did not reassure me that they were actually human. I tried to remember seeing Caryn eat anything normal. She usually had a smoothie in disgusting shades of green and orange
at lunchtime. Definitely a lot of carrot and celery sticks. But I wasn’t sure I had ever seen her put a piece of office birthday cake into her mouth.

  I, however, needed food and wished I had brought a snack in my purse. Not that I had the guts to eat it in front of any of them or, even worse, one of the shop assistants. If I thought the coffee thief was bad, I didn’t want to know what would happen if I pulled out a sandwich. It was already two o’clock and the protein bar I had scarfed down in the car just before arriving at the first salon wasn’t cutting it with all of the champagne.

  “Car, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to bail early.”

  She looked surprised, but didn’t ask what I had going on. “Okay,” she said, leaning in to hug me. “Thank you for coming today! Will we see you next weekend?”

  “It’s my mom’s birthday, but I’ll come for as much as I can.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Well, hopefully we find something amazing at the next store and we’ll be done!”

  “Send me a picture if you do?”

  “I’ll try. Most of the high-end salons won’t let you take pictures of their gowns.”

  I said my goodbyes to the blondes and made my escape. When I got to my car, I turned the air conditioner up all the way and took a deep breath before I put it into reverse. That was more intense than I expected. Are all the weddings going to be like this?

  I took quick stock of the five brides. Madison was the only wild card. I had no idea what her friends would be like because I didn’t really know what she was like. When it came to my sister, I knew all of the bridesmaids. Did I like them? Absolutely not. But I could be honest with Amy at least. Megan might as well have been my sister—except one I actually wanted to spend time with. And Sharon didn’t even want a wedding. I doubted her mother would allow us to go dress shopping—outside opinions might spoil her vision.

  So this should be as bad as it got. And Caryn was fine. She didn’t even mind that I bailed early. Her friends were intimidating, but Caroline seemed like the only one with a real mean streak. Yes, they were all Stepford robots, but the rest of them didn’t rub it in that they were supermodel skinny with rich husbands and an innate understanding of all things wedding.

  I even felt a little bad for being so judgmental about them as I waited in line at Five Guys. Whether she liked them all the time or not, they were Caryn’s friends and had been for a really long time. There had to be some redeeming qualities that I just hadn’t seen—probably because I was too hangry to look. Maybe I’d even learn to like them by June. No, they wouldn’t eat a cheeseburger with extra pickles and an order of fries in the car on their way home today. But I also refused to feel shame for eating solid food. I saw the look on Dana’s face when I suggested lunch. Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but those Five Guys Cajun fries are a pretty close second.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Once I had food in my belly, though, I felt guilty. Not about the food—it was worth every bite. But Caryn had told me her friends were awful, and instead of being the honest voice of reason, I had sided with them when they didn’t like a really spectacular and different dress. I wondered if Caryn actually hadn’t loved the simple one or if she was responding to the immediate rejection from the wicked bridesmaids of the west.

  Did you find anything you liked? I texted her that night. The three dots appeared to tell me she was typing, then disappeared. They reappeared, then disappeared again. You okay? I asked after that happened the fourth time.

  My phone rang, with her name and picture on the screen.

  “What’s up?” The sound that greeted me was familiar—but not from Caryn. I had never seen her cry, not even when her last boyfriend broke up with her on the night she had thought he was going to propose. “Hey. What happened?”

  It was another minute before she was composed enough to talk. “I hate wedding dresses,” she said finally.

  “But you love wedding dresses. What happened after I left?”

  “I’m fat. And I hate my friends. And Olivia told me my mom was really hurt that I didn’t bring her today, but I asked her if she wanted to come and she said she was busy.”

  I wanted to slap all four of those girls, and I wanted to slap myself even harder for catering to their opinions. “Caryn, you are gorgeous. And if your friends are trying to make you feel bad about how you look, they’re not your friends, they’re jealous assholes.” She sniffled. “But seriously, though, why are they in the wedding if you don’t like them?”

  “It’s complicated. If they aren’t, then they won’t speak to me anymore.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “If Greg wasn’t Caroline’s brother, maybe not. But—” She stopped talking.

  “But?” I asked gently.

  She didn’t respond for long enough that I checked to make sure I hadn’t dropped the call. Then she sighed. “I’ve never told anyone this.”

  I waited.

  “You know how my dad died when I was twelve.” I did. Her mom had remarried a man who had more money than he knew what to do with about six years ago, which Caryn had exceptionally mixed feelings about. “Well, he didn’t have life insurance. And he left us in a lot of debt. My mom—she—she still wanted us to fit in at school. And still go to the private school. So we faked it. A lot.”

  I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. Who cared if she didn’t have as much money as people thought? I didn’t grow up rich and turned out fine. But she clearly expected a response, so I murmured, “Okay.”

  “I know it’s not a good reason or anything, but I just—I’ve spent almost twenty years trying to fit in with these girls. I don’t know how to stop now.”

  I started to tell her that you just stop. Life gets less complicated when you’re not worried what the mean girls think of you. But something else dawned on me before I could get the words out.

  “Caryn—do you actually love Greg?”

  She started crying again. “I do. That’s probably the worst part. It’d be so much easier if I were just marrying him because he has money and my kids would never have to go through what my sister and I did, but that’s not it. I actually do love him. Which means Caroline is in my life forever.”

  I was quiet for a long time, trying to figure out the right thing to say. “What can I do to help?”

  “I don’t know. I just didn’t feel good in any of the dresses today and they all want me to wear a mermaid dress, but I don’t like how my butt looks in those and they don’t care. I think they want me to look fat.”

  “Your butt is perfect,” I told her. She started to argue, but I cut her off. “What do you want your dress to look like?”

  She hesitated. “I liked the cut of that simple one today, but I didn’t like how plain it was.”

  “Okay. That’s a start.” I gave myself a mental high five for my insight. “What would dress it up better? Lace? Beading? Feathers?”

  “That feathered thing was awful.”

  “Thank God you said it.”

  “I looked like a bird.”

  “But a really hot bird.”

  I could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “Thank you.”

  “You know, that could be an awesome way to put them in their place once you’ve picked your dress.”

  “What could?”

  “Feathered bridesmaid dresses.”

  Caryn let out a choked chuckle. “Oh God. Can you imagine? But I’d be punishing you too.”

  “Can I drop from the ceiling in a cage and sing a song in my feathered dress?”

  “Uh, Lily, have you been to a wedding before?”

  “Of course. But that would have livened any of them up!”

  Caryn finally laughed for real. “This is why I need you as a bridesmaid.”

  “I love you, you silly feathered goose,” I told her. “Now go do something that has absolutely nothing to do with wedding dresses tonight, okay? Maybe even eat some carbs!”

  “That won’t solve the feeling fat in wh
ite dresses problem.”

  “You’re right. Because that’s in your head and you need a shrink for that one. Which I’m not. But if you complain that you’re fat again, I’m shoving a cheeseburger in your mouth.”

  When I got off the phone, I logged into my newly created Pinterest account and found Caryn. In addition to her wedding dress board, she had boards for juice cleanses, weight loss tricks, general wedding ideas, wedding colors, wedding favors, arm-toning exercises, and bridal showers. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. I held up an arm and shook it, watching for inordinate jiggle. Eh, I thought. No one was going to mistake my body for Jennifer Aniston’s, but my arms were okay. I clicked onto her wedding dresses board to see what I could find.

  I scrolled for about twenty minutes trying to find something resembling what we had seen earlier, but fancier, without any luck. I did, however, notice one dress was repeated on the board. Three times, in fact. There were different pictures of the same dress, two on the same model, one on a different model. All pinned from different sources.

  I wouldn’t have called it a simple dress—it was covered in lace and had a sash at the waist, with a corset top that drew attention to the upper back rather than the derriere. It looked nothing like the twenties-style dress that I had loved, but I could see the appeal for Caryn. It was a slim cut through the hips, then didn’t flare exactly, but wouldn’t accentuate her butt.

  Clicking on the image of the dress itself took me to the designer’s page, and I eventually found a “where to buy” link. A salon in DC carried the designer, although it didn’t say if that exact dress would be there. It was Saturday night, so the shop would be closed. Their website said they were closed on Sundays, too, so I could call first thing Monday morning. An idea began to bloom.

  Monday morning, I waited until the shop opened at ten, then peeked around my office door to make sure Caryn was nowhere nearby before shutting my door and calling. I asked about the specific dress she had pinned three times and was told that they had it. “Great! I’ll try to bring the bride by this week!”