CHAPTER TWENTY
Early in January, my mother texted me on a Friday, asking me to come to dinner to discuss a trip to Chicago for Madison’s bridal shower.
Does it HAVE to be tonight?
Why? Do you have a date or something?
I didn’t. But Alex and I were planning to binge a new Netflix show that Becca said was too scary for her. Not that she was home much anymore anyway. And if she was, Will was with her. I have plans with a friend.
Can you reschedule? We need to figure out what we’re doing.
I sighed and texted Alex. Can we watch tomorrow instead? Or start later tonight and finish tomorrow? My mom is demanding I be at her house for dinner to figure out going to Chicago for my brother’s fiancée’s bridal shower (kill me now please).
Was supposed to go on a date tomorrow, but I can cancel.
No, I don’t want you to cancel for me.
Three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots again. Honestly? I was probably going to cancel anyway. Let’s start the show when you get home tonight and we’ll see how good it is before we decide?
Deal.
I replied to my mom. Fine, but can we make it early?
She told me to be there at six.
“It’s important that we go,” Amy was saying. “I’d be so hurt if she didn’t come to mine.”
“She might not come to yours,” I cautioned. “Remember, her wedding is two weeks before the date we’re talking about.”
“She told me she’s coming.”
“Do you actually talk to her?”
Amy gave me a dirty look. “Yeah. Maybe you should too.”
“Girls, stop,” our mother said absently. “Amy is probably right. Lily?”
“I just—I don’t really have the time or the money to drop everything and fly to Chicago for a weekend.”
“She’s going to be our sister.”
“In-law. Calm down, Ames.”
She crossed her arms. “Are you even going to come to my shower at this rate?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, is it in Chicago?”
“Why are you being such a bitch?”
I looked at my mother, who said nothing. “Seriously?” I asked her.
“Amy, language,” she said mildly.
I looked to my dad, who was extremely engaged in eating his salad and staying as far from the conversation as possible. He never publicly took my side against my mother, but he usually would against Amy when she was being ridiculous. Apparently his salad was absolutely fascinating, though, because I couldn’t catch his eye.
I huffed, defeated. “I can try to find reasonable airfare. And if we share a hotel room, I can probably swing it.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be in all of those weddings,” Amy said, bolstered by our mother’s refusal to actually check her. “Family comes first.”
“Is that why Ashlee is your maid of honor?” I shot back. My mother perked up.
“Do you even want to be? I feel like you don’t want to be in my wedding at all!”
I stood up and put my napkin on the table. “Okay. I’m outta here. Look, I said I’ll go to the shower even though it’s not easy for me to do right now, but I’m not going to sit here while you shame me about your wedding because I’m not dropping everything to be at your beck and call.”
“Actually, I’m shaming you because you’re making no effort to get to know Madison and it’s pissing Jake off.”
“Then let Jake tell me that because he hasn’t said a word to me.”
“When’s the last time you even talked to him? He said you haven’t returned his calls.”
I paused. Yes, I’d missed a couple of calls from Jake, but that was like a month ago. I had figured if it was important, he would text me or at least leave a message. And then I promptly forgot about it because I had so much else on my plate with all of the brides. Was I the reason we didn’t have much of a relationship?
When I didn’t say anything, Amy continued. “I’m just saying you need to go to the shower.”
“And I said I would!”
“Grudgingly! You should want to go.”
“Some of us actually pay our own bills.”
“Enough,” my mom said, finally with some force. “Amy, we’re going to the shower, all of us. Lily, you could make more of an effort with Madison.”
“Like you did with the bridesmaid dresses?” I asked quietly, unable to hold the words in.
My mother started sputtering, and I didn’t want to be there to see the steam that was about to come out of her ears. “I’m going home. Thank you for dinner. I’ll email you with airfare rates.” I turned and raced out of the dining room.
My father caught me just after I went out the front door. “Lily, wait.”
My shoulders slumped, but I turned around. It was freezing out and he hadn’t put on a coat. I walked silently back to him and he led me into his study, where I sat in the chair across the desk from his. He closed the door behind us and sat down as well.
“I know,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you know?”
“That I’m overreacting and I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to ask if you’re okay. You don’t seem happy.”
“I’m just stressed about all the weddings. And Amy’s not exactly helping. Can’t she stop already? We’re both adults now.”
He looked amused. “You are. We’ll talk about her status if this wedding takes place and she’s no longer living under my roof.”
I looked at him for a moment, processing what he had just said, and then let out a small yelp of hysteric laughter.
“Never tell her I said that.”
I mimed locking my lips. “Mom isn’t helping either.”
He sighed. “It’s a good thing you never moved back home. I wouldn’t have survived it. But your mother, as much difficulty as she has showing it sometimes, loves you to pieces.” I screwed up my face in disbelief. “You’re more like her than you realize.”
“I think that was an insult.”
“Absolutely not. But she sees herself in you and criticizes those faults. She wants you to be the perfect version of her.”
“Why isn’t she like that with Amy?”
“Amy’s the baby. She’s hard on her in different ways.”
“I never see it.”
“You don’t live here.” I didn’t quite believe him. “But your biggest fan doesn’t just provide silent moral support.” He pulled his checkbook out of his drawer. “It sounds like you’re struggling,” he said as he wrote. “I’d like to help take away some of your stress. Consider it a loan from your own wedding account. We’ll spend a little less on flowers when your day comes.”
My eyes felt wet and I rose to hug him as he handed me the check. “Thank you, Dad.”
“I love you, Lilypad. But uh—maybe don’t tell your mother about this. It’ll be our little secret.”
I hugged him tighter. “I’ll go apologize to Mom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Remember in Pride and Prejudice, when Mr. Darcy’s awful aunt is horrified that the younger sisters are “out” before the older ones are married? When did she become my favorite character? Lady Catherine has a solid point there.
I’m not saying my younger siblings need to be locked in an attic until I find a spouse, but good Lord! Forcing me to be in both of their weddings at the same time seems like the definition of cruel and unusual punishment. Can I cite the Eighth Amendment as a reason to sit these two out?
It doesn’t help that my baby sister (Emphasis on baby. Doesn’t she need parental permission to get married at her age?) is openly antagonizing me and has suddenly become best friends with my brother’s fiancée. Who, as far as I can tell, is utterly devoid of personality. Or perhaps she has a lovely personality, but an evil sea witch stole her voice and marrying my brother is the only way to get it back. I’m not really sure yet, but my sister tal
ks enough for two people, so I guess it evens out.
Then there’s my ever-suffering mother. Poor mom. Not only is her eldest child a spinster with eggs dying off faster than you can say, “Actually, I’m only thirty-two and that’s NOT too old to get married or have kids,” but that spinster also lacks anything resembling prospects.
But to add insult to injury, the save-the-dates have arrived for the five weddings and two of them are addressed to me “and guest.” Have you guessed which two yet?
Oh Mom, your subtlety is the stuff of legends. I wonder, if I fail to procure said dates, will she provide them for me? And will it actually be anyone good, or some random dude to whom she gives elocution lessons, My Fair Lady–style, to create the illusion to all her friends and neighbors that she has succeeded matrimonially with all three of her children?
I’m afraid to find out.
My mouth twitched into a smile as I reread that one. Yes, the save-the-dates for Amy’s and Jake’s weddings had included “and guest.” But with the express caveat from my mother that it only applied if I was dating someone seriously. She would never find me a wedding date. On the contrary, I felt sure she would rather punish me for my life choices by making me go single if I wasn’t in a committed relationship. But the blog version was funnier, so I kept it and hit “Publish.”
It created an interesting dilemma, though, because it hadn’t occurred to me that having a date at the weddings would make them far less painful. And if I did have a boyfriend by then, how sweet would that little getaway in Mexico be?
Okay, I had to get my grandma down there, but I would have my own room. I pictured some tall, dark, and imaginary boyfriend giving my grandma his arm as we walked through the airport together.
I shook my head, dispelling that pipe dream.
But still.
I picked up my phone and texted Alex. What’s the story on Tinder?
Three dots appeared. What do you mean?
Like is it safe? Or am I going to get murdered if I use it?
IDK. Depends what you’re using it for.
What are YOU using it for? As soon as I sent that, I realized I didn’t want to know the answer. Dating. Just dating, I typed quickly. Just thinking since you use it and haven’t been murdered yet, maybe I’d test the waters a little.
What if I’m the one doing the murdering?
You keep bringing up disposing of bodies, so I’m not ruling that out. But I feel like if you were going to kill me, you would have done it already.
Touché. Just link it to your Facebook profile so people can see you’re not sketchy, and only meet people who linked it to theirs so you know you’re not getting catfished. And don’t give anyone your address or real phone number.
I have to link it to my Facebook? I replied with horrified face emojis. My MOM is my Facebook friend!
No one on Facebook will see Tinder stuff. It just shows potential dates that you’re a real person, not a Russian troll trying to steal their identity. There was a pause. Why the sudden interest?
I can apparently bring a date to Amy’s and Jake’s weddings.
He sent the GIF of Katniss Everdeen volunteering as tribute.
Was he flirting? I shook my head and replied with a laughing emoji. My mom said only if I’m actually dating the person.
Do you do everything your mom says?
Don’t you?
No way! I eat candy for breakfast all the time.
You do not.
Fine. Busted. I brush my teeth twice a day and always take an umbrella when it might rain.
I was smiling. I’ll buy you dinner if you help me set up a profile.
That’s the weirdest date request ever, but sure.
I started to put my phone down, then picked it back up. Amy’s criticism that I hadn’t made an effort with Madison or replied to Jake was still rankling me. Probably because it was deserved. But where to begin with Madison?
Ugh, I thought.
I started a new text to her. Hey future sis! Just checking in and saying hi. How’s all of the wedding planning going?
I hesitated before hitting “Send.” I wished I had something to ask about other than the wedding, but I honestly didn’t know what else she liked, other than my brother, which led me to believe her taste was questionable overall. We were friends on Facebook and Instagram, but her posts were infrequent and bland. And she didn’t have a Twitter, so I couldn’t even see who she followed or retweeted. So with nothing else to work from, I sent the message.
The three dots appeared and she replied a minute later. Hi. I’m good. Everything seems to be coming together pretty well.
Not exactly effusive. And not much material to get a conversation going. I was contemplating what else I could say when she replied again. I hear you’re coming to the shower with your mom and Amy?
Yup. Booked our tickets this week. We’re looking forward to it.
Me too. She added a smiling emoji.
I thought about just telling her I wanted to get to know her, but that sounded creepy. And what on earth would I reply if someone said that to me? Was it better to just send little texts every once in a while and hope a conversation would eventually grow organically?
As I debated my next move, my phone vibrated again. But the text wasn’t from Madison, it was from Jake.
Thank you was all it said.
For what?
For making an effort, you jackass.
I rolled my eyes. Yeah yeah yeah. What else is going on?
We’re buying a house. I already knew that, from my mother’s nonstop commentary on my siblings’ lives, which, now that I thought about it, was probably why I never felt the need to talk to them.
Cool. Send me a link?
Mom told me she showed it to you already. Just say congratulations, like you’re supposed to.
I started to type something snarky about how he was just fishing for compliments and rubbing it in when I was still renting, but I took a deep breath and deleted what I had written. Congratulations.
Thanks. We’re excited. It’s got a nice guest room if you ever want to come visit.
Okay. He didn’t reply and I didn’t say any more. But it was something. I made a mental note to text him the next time my mother updated me on anything major, and, feeling somewhat absolved, I put my phone down to get ready for bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Alex waved to me and I weaved toward his table, unwinding my scarf as I went, then sat heavily in the booth across from him. It was two weeks after we had set up my Tinder account. And an hour into my fifth Tinder date, I texted Alex to see if he wanted to meet up as soon as I could ditch the guy.
“Drink?” He had already gotten me a martini.
“Can you just get the bottle of gin and pour it directly down my throat?”
He laughed. “Went that well, huh?”
“I swear my siblings only said I could bring a date to their weddings to torture me.”
“I told you I could be your date.”
“And I told you, they said actual romantic prospects only. No ‘random friends.’”
“Do they actually need to know the difference?”
“Please don’t start. As much as I’d love to have you there for moral support, I don’t want to lie to everyone at the weddings. Because every single person there would ask us when we were getting married.”
“And you’d rather bring a random guy who you’ve been on a couple dates with?”
I shook my head and took another sip of my drink. “No. If I had found someone awesome, that would have been cool. But I’m done trying. I’ll just go and be single and when anyone asks, I’m going to say I was engaged for a while, but he kept asking me when I wanted to get married, so I murdered him with a pickax.” Alex laughed again. Mental note: use that in the blog.
For a split second, I considered telling him about the blog. Actually, I had debated telling him about it many times since I started. It would be nice to be able to share the small succe
sses when they came. But the more anonymous I kept it, the better. And I had talked about Justin—I refused to think about the implications of why I didn’t want Alex knowing about that, assuming he hadn’t already heard, but I didn’t.
“How was your date?”
He shook his head. “I cancelled it.”
“Really? Why?”
“She was too—I don’t know—I got the feeling that I checked all the boxes by being a lawyer, so she wanted to seal the deal immediately and lock me down. Possibly literally, in her basement.”
I leaned my head on my hand, scrunched up my nose, and smiled. “Probably for the best then. You don’t want to end up in a hole, putting the lotion on its skin.”
“Right?” He smiled back. “Plus she’s a lot younger than us. She wouldn’t have even gotten a Silence of the Lambs joke.”
“How much younger?”
“Twenty-six.”
I pulled an olive out of my martini and threw it at him. “That’s almost my baby sister’s age, you perv.”
“And your sister is getting married. It’s not that young.”
“Too young for us.”
“I agree. That’s why I’m not in her basement hole.”
“You need to get off Tinder. It’s one thing if you’re using it to get laid, it’s another if you think you’re going to find a soul mate on there.”
“I know.” He paused. “Are you using it to get laid?”
I mimed vomiting. “Uh, no. And I deleted the app before I even left the restaurant tonight.”
“I never even got to swipe on you.”
“Right, I assume?”
“Of course.”
We both sipped our drinks, comfortable in the silence. “Mexico would have been fun though,” he mused.
“Even getting my grandma down there?”
“Sure. Old ladies love me.”
“She’s a flirt too. You’d have your hands full.”
“See? Who needs Tinder?”
I covered my face, laughing. “That’s an over-sixty-year spread. Get some standards already.”
“Hey, the last time I went to Cancun was my honeymoon. I’ll take what I can get.”
That sobered me up quickly. “I always forget you were actually married. You’re like an adult adult.”
For the Love of Friends Page 15
