For the Love of Friends

by Confino, Sara Goodman

  Eventually, Amy, Ashlee, and my mother agreed on some pink chiffon disaster that I thought made me look like a piece of cotton candy, but it only cost $175, putting me somewhat back on track. For this wedding at least. So I said it was great.

  “Come to dinner tonight?” my mother asked as I waited for the saleslady to return with my overburdened credit card. “Your grandmother is coming and we’re getting takeout.”

  I agreed, mostly because it saved me a trip to see my grandmother soon. I had been so busy between work and weddings that the only time I had seen her in the last three months was when she came shopping for Amy’s wedding dress.

  Tyler and Amy dominated the conversation at dinner, prattling on happily about the many features of Jake and Madison’s wedding resort.

  “There are hot tubs in every room,” Amy said. “And they bring you drinks all day at the pool.”

  “And the food was amazing,” Tyler said. “You can get room service at any hour of the day or night and it’s all free.”

  “Everything is included, so it’s really a steal, all things considered.”

  “How much would you call a steal?” I asked. My mother shot me a look.

  “Jake said it would come out to a little over two thousand a person for the weekend.”

  “Two thousand?” Everyone stopped to look at me. “For a weekend?”

  “Well, a little more if you’re not sharing a room, so probably twenty-five hundred for you, but that includes airfare,” Amy said. “And all the meals and drinks. And Jake said the wedding itself costs almost nothing because the resort does most of it for free when you bring a certain number of guests. Which is great because Mom and Dad have enough on their plate with our wedding.” She nudged Tyler playfully and he picked up her hand and kissed it.

  “It’s not exactly free when all of your guests are paying two grand apiece to be there.”

  “What happened to that real job you were bragging about?” Amy asked. “It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

  “I’m in four other weddings, too, Amy. Including yours.”

  “Girls, stop it,” my dad said, exchanging a look across the table with my mother that immediately told me this dinner wasn’t a random, spur-of-the-moment thing.

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms defiantly, but my mind was reeling. I had only factored fifteen hundred into my wedding budget for Jake and Madison’s wedding and definitely had not realized I would be paying more for being single. Not to mention I had already spent more on bridesmaid dresses alone than I had saved. An extra thousand dollars? I was going to be paying these weddings off for years at this rate.

  “We actually had an idea,” my mother said, hesitantly. “We were going to pitch it after dinner.”

  “What?” I braced for the worst.

  “We’ll pay for your trip,” she said, then stopped.

  “What do I have to do in return?”

  My parents exchanged a look again. I quickly inventoried what they could have in mind versus what I would be willing to do. I doubted they would come up with anything too morally repugnant. “Get your grandmother there.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Grandma chimed in angrily. While she was as spunky as she had ever been—perhaps more so, as she had definitely lost any semblance of a filter with age—she didn’t walk so well anymore since breaking a hip two years earlier. But she was still driving, despite a minor stroke, practically no reflexes, and significant hearing loss in both ears. No one wanted to ask the question of how her vision was because it was obvious the answer would be terrifying. And she was still convinced she could do everything she had done sixty years earlier, from lifting the sofa to clean under it to driving nearly five hundred miles to visit her hometown.

  “You need help,” my mother told her. “You can’t get your own luggage to the airport, let alone deal with checking it, and you ought to be in a wheelchair to get on the plane.”

  “I’m not riding in a wheelchair like some invalid,” she argued, brandishing a fork at my mother. “You act like I’ve never flown on an airplane, but I’ve been all over the world and I’ll do it all again. Without help.”

  “Mom, don’t start with this.”

  “Don’t start with what, Joan? I’m not a child, no matter how you treat me. I don’t need someone to drive Miss Daisy over here. No offense, Joan.” The second “Joan” was directed at me. After thirty-two years of being her granddaughter, my grandmother still called me by my mother’s name ninety percent of the time. But she had been doing that since she was in her fifties, so that alone wasn’t a great indicator of declining mental agility.

  I turned to my parents. “Would I have to share a room with her?”

  “And what’s so wrong with sharing a room with me?” I exchanged a look with Amy, who was trying not to laugh. My grandmother had absolutely no sense of modesty left. When she got a medical alert button, she raised her shirt to show it to us rather than pulling it out of her shirt. Without a bra on.

  “No.” My dad ignored my grandmother completely. “Your own room. Just get her to the airport, on the airplane, and to the hotel, then the reverse after the wedding.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  “Deal,” I said, relief sweeping over me as I imagined the numbers on my credit card bill rolling backward. Besides, it would make great material for my blog.

  “I didn’t agree to this deal,” my grandmother said, struggling to rise from the table.

  “Do you need some help?” I asked her. She gave me a sharp look, but sat back down in her chair. “It’ll be good bonding time.”

  “If we rent a car there, I’m driving,” she said gruffly.

  “There’s a shuttle from the airport,” my father said immediately. “You’re not driving in Mexico.”

  “You shouldn’t even be driving here,” my mother added.

  Grandma looked back at me. “Better to go with you than with them,” she conceded.

  I nodded to my parents and my mother’s shoulders sagged slightly in relief, making me realize that I hadn’t been the one they were worried about convincing in this deal. But Grandma and I had always done better together than my mother and I had. Or than she and my mother had, for that matter. Yes, the dynamic changed as we both got older and I didn’t visit or call as often as I should, but my grandmother had always proven an ally against my mother when I needed one. And in my teen years in particular, I had needed one.

  “We’ll have fun,” I assured her, and my mother looked at me gratefully.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I had finally stopped looking everywhere for Alex, brushing off the several run-ins as actual coincidence, when Taylor greeted me excitedly at Starbucks a couple of weeks later.

  “He left you another note,” she said when I reached the counter. I knew I should give up the morning lattes in favor of coffee at the office to save money, but it was a tough habit to break. Besides, my parents’ offer to pay for my trip to Mexico had bought me enough of a financial reprieve that I could still justify the coffee. And the blog post I had written about dress shopping with Caryn and the wicked bridesmaids of the west had generated enough money for a week’s worth of coffee and gotten me my first two comments. Okay, one of them was spam, but clicks were clicks.

  And maybe, just maybe, a little, tiny piece of me was hoping for exactly this. “I’m not sure what it means, but I think he’s asking you out.”

  I rolled my eyes at her and went to grab my coffee. So I know what dinner gets me, but what do I get with lunch?

  Ugh, why does he have to be so cute about this?

  “Can I leave him one back?” I asked. The line was insanely long and I didn’t want to wait in it again. The guy at the front gave me an irritated look.

  Taylor looked at the line and nodded. “It’s on the house.” She handed me a coffee sleeve and the Sharpie.

  My friendship . . . I wrote back. I started to hand it to Taylor, but I snat
ched it back at the last second and uncapped the Sharpie again. Text me if that sounds good, and I wrote my phone number.

  If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t think I would hear from him. No guy wants to be told he’s in the friend zone. It’s a death sentence if you’re actually interested, despite what When Harry Met Sally would have you believe.

  But as I was walking to my apartment from the Metro that evening, I got a text message. Hey new friend, it said.

  I smiled. Do you get an afternoon coffee too or did you go to Starbucks just to see what I’d replied?

  The latter. I was curious.

  Don’t you know you’re supposed to wait a solid twenty-four hours before you text someone the first time?

  Why? We’re friends. I don’t have to play stupid games.

  Good point.

  So lunch? Tomorrow?

  Yeah, I replied, marveling at this strange new thing I had found, where I didn’t need to play games and friendship was pre-established as being all that was on the table with a guy. That sounds great.

  Megan texted me a link to some bridesmaid dresses that night. She had picked a fabric and color and was going to let us choose from six different styles of dresses. I unwillingly recalled Caroline’s critique that that was tacky, but I put it aside. Her country-club-bred view of weddings wasn’t everyone’s. Besides, Megan had her own issues with her fiancé’s contentious sister, and if this would keep her calm, it was a win.

  What else is going on? she asked. How was shopping with your sister?

  I told her about Amy’s trip to Mexico and sent her a picture of the cotton-candy dress. But I didn’t mention my lunch plans with Alex.

  “Hey,” he greeted me outside the restaurant.

  “Hey.”

  “Is this weird?”

  “Nope. Friends have lunch together all the time.”

  “Good.” He opened the door for me.

  We sat at our table and perused the menus. I had been good about packing my lunch the past few months, but this wasn’t a restaurant I had been to even when I still went out to lunch. “What’s good here?”

  “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I usually just grab a sandwich from the deli next to my building.”

  “Which deli?”

  “Goldman’s.”

  “They have great salads there.”

  He grinned. “So I can expect to run into you there too?”

  I shook my head. “Not anytime soon. I’m living on a shoestring budget to afford all of these weddings.”

  “What do you need to afford? Other than devil bras.”

  I grimaced. I had forgotten I was supposed to be looking for a minimizing bra. But I began ticking off expenses on my fingers. “Dresses for all five, shoes for all five, my share of the bridal shower and bachelorette parties, shower presents, wedding gifts, and everything for my brother’s wedding, which is in Mexico.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Guys really do have it easier than girls for weddings, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “How much does a bridesmaid dress cost?”

  “The cheapest one so far was $175. The most expensive was almost $600.”

  “Six hundred dollars for a dress? Can you keep the tags on and return it?”

  “Not a bridesmaid dress. They’re custom-made in the color and fabric the bride wants.”

  “And you’re doing all of this, why?”

  “They’re my friends.” I might have sounded a little more defensive than I intended. “Well, and my brother and sister are two of them, so I don’t have a choice there. My parents are paying for Mexico though.”

  “That’s nice of them.”

  I took a sip of my water. “Kind of. I made a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  He laughed when I explained about my grandmother. “She sounds like a riot.”

  I shrugged. “I probably would have done it for free anyway. But they offered to pay for me, so I wasn’t going to say no.”

  “That’s fair.” The waitress came to take our order. “Do you get to bring a date to them, at least?” he asked when she had gone.

  “Nope. All five are strictly ‘no ring, no bring.’”

  “Even Tim and Megan’s?”

  “Wait. Are you allowed to bring a date?”

  “They haven’t said I couldn’t. That’s half the reason I joined Tinder. I figured I should start looking for a date for the wedding.”

  I shook my head. “If your invitation doesn’t say ‘and guest’ on it, you don’t get a date.”

  “What kind of barbaric system is this?”

  “Did you let people bring dates to your wedding?”

  “I have no idea. I wasn’t exactly . . . involved . . . in the planning process.”

  “By choice or by necessity?”

  “Necessity. Lauren was—is—a little intense with that stuff.” He paused. “Who will save you from Justin at the wedding if you can’t bring a date?”

  “Hi, friend,” I said with a cheeky grin.

  “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  I kept grinning. “You asked what lunch got you, after all.”

  “What are friends for?” He smiled back.

  Alex was funny. I could see why Megan called him a little weird, but we just meshed. Especially once you took sexual tension out of the equation. Not that we’d had that exactly, but once we established the mutual friend zone, I could let my guard down. With potential dates, I felt like I had to play a long game of hide the crazy, which never ended well. Apparently he was having a good time, too, because he started in surprise when he glanced at his watch.

  “It’s almost two,” he said, shaking his head and holding up his hand to signal for the check.

  “Oh crap.” I didn’t really care. I spent my first two years at the foundation tiptoeing around when I was late, only to eventually discover that no one actually cared when I showed up as long as I did my work. Which, surprisingly, made me slightly more conscientious of my timing. Some kids take the whole bowl of candy when someone leaves a “take one” sign on Halloween—not me. Being late when they weren’t monitoring me felt like stealing. Of course, I was never going to be on time, but I was better about it overall. So I felt no guilt taking a long lunch occasionally.

  “I’m late for a client meeting.” The waitress brought the check and he handed her a credit card. I protested that we should split it. “My only wedding expenses are a sixth of the bachelor party costs and renting a tux—and that’s one tux, not five. It’s on me.”

  I didn’t argue. “I had a good time,” I told him, as we waited for his card to return.

  He smiled. “This was fun. It’s been a long time since I had a female friend.”

  “The wife didn’t approve?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t even notice her phasing them out until they were gone. I had two really close friends in college who were girls.”

  “Why don’t you reconnect?”

  “It’s been too long. And I was a terrible person for letting Lauren do that.”

  “It happens. Speaking as someone who’s been phased out by a guy friend’s girlfriend before, I’d welcome hearing an ‘I’m sorry.’”

  He looked thoughtful. “Maybe. I’m sure I can find them on Facebook.”

  “You’re not even still Facebook friends with them?”

  Alex smiled tightly. “Lauren was—well—it wasn’t worth the fight.”

  I put a sympathetic hand on his. “Let’s do this again.”

  “Definitely.”

  When I eventually made my way back to my desk, still smiling, I saw I had an email from Madison—a first. It was to both Amy and me.

  Hey future sisters-in-law,

  Just wanted to send a quick update since you two are the only bridesmaids who aren’t in town with me. I found my dress—I’m attaching a picture (Amy, it’s the same one I showed you in Mexico). Bridesmaid dress shopping is a little more interesting. Amy,
I ordered the one you sent me a link to for yours and it’s adorable. (I found a store near me to try it on—it’s too bad your wedding is after mine or I’d consider it for my shower! I know everyone says they’ll wear their bridesmaid dresses again and don’t, but I really will.)

  Speaking of the shower, we’re looking at April 17, with a bachelorette party the following weekend on April 23. I know that’s not ideal for you two, so I promise it’s fine if you can’t make it to one or both. You’ll get the official invitations later, of course, but I wanted to put it on your radar just in case. Your mom said she’ll try to come out for the shower, if you want to coordinate.

  And finally, dresses for you two! My sister, my cousin, and my best friend are my other bridesmaids. The four of us went shopping last weekend and found a dress that should be flattering on everyone—but I want you to approve it before anyone orders. A couple of salons in your area have it, if you can get by sometime in the next couple of weeks, either together or separately, to check it out and then just let me know what you think? I’m attaching the link below, along with links to the two salons that have it.

  Thanks girls!

  Looking forward to hearing from you,

  Madison

  I clicked the link, but my phone rang before the page loaded. “Lily Weiss,” I answered automatically.

  “What do you think of the dress?” Amy asked by way of a greeting.

  I looked back to my screen. It was a pale-yellow chiffon sheath that just hung straight down.

  “I think I’m going to look like Big Bird in it.”

  “Right? Ugh, why yellow?”

  I looked down at my pasty arm in the three-quarter-length-sleeved top I was wearing. “Guess we’re spray tanning for Mexico.”

  “Great, then we’ll look orange against the yellow. She can’t be serious.”

  “I thought she was your new best friend?”