I go down the hall for the shoes I think I left in a cute little bag on the bed—where I would see it and not forget it. I fish my cell phone out of the kangaroo pocket of the Stone University hoodie I’m wearing. I speed-dial Mark. “Come on, come on,” I murmur as I walk into my bedroom. Sure enough, my heels are there, right in the bag on my bed where I left them.
Third ring.
“Please, Mark,” I whisper. “Answer this phone and I swear I’ll make you a big plate of homemade chocolate chocolate chip cookies. I’ll make a plate of cookies for you every day of the week for the next six months.”
He must hear me because he picks up at the end of the fourth ring.
“Alicia.”
“Mark,” I exhale thankfully. “I’m so sorry to call you. I know you’re probably getting dressed for the wedding.”
He chuckles. “Nope. Paying bills. Guys don’t take long to get ready. What’s up?”
“A leak. In the laundry room. I can’t tell—”
“I’ll be right there with my wet vac and my toolbox.”
“The caterers are already here and Chloe’s supposed to be at the church and—”
“Alicia, go to the church,” he says calmly. “You go to the church. I’ll take care of the leak and I’ll see you there.”
“But you’re a guest. I should call someone else, but I don’t know—” Emotion catches in my throat.
“Go to the church,” Mark repeats in the kindest voice. “Worst-case scenario, I’ll see you at your house afterwards.”
I want to argue. I’m not used to people doing things for me. Well, Jin, but she’s different. She isn’t people; she’s Jin. But Mark is so nice and . . . and I need him to do this for me. I almost smile. “Thank you.” I already feel better as I hurry out of my bedroom. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I walk right by the laundry room and don’t even look at it.
“See you at the church,” Mark says in my ear.
“See you at the church,” I repeat. And then I take my daughter to the church to be married.
19
Chloe’s only request when making plans for the wedding was that it be like Belle and the Beast’s. Which was an interesting request, since, technically, Belle and the Beast don’t marry in the movie. It ends with Belle and the prince dancing in a ballroom. What Chloe imagined was her wearing a big dress and her hero, Thomas, wearing a tux, I suppose. That request, I was able to grant.
Chloe’s dress was white, not yellow like Belle’s, but she was a beauty when I walked her down the aisle, her bouquet of calla lilies clutched in her sweaty palms. I fight tears through the entire ceremony as I listen to my dear daughter slowly, painstakingly repeat her wedding vows. Thomas, his voice booming, stuttered and stammered through the whole thing. That’s when my tears spilled. At that moment I realized that he really did love my Chloe. And for that, I loved him that day.
Like the days leading up to the marriage, the wedding ceremony went by too quickly. One minute I was lowering Chloe’s gown over her head in a little room off the narthex at St. Mark’s. The next minute she and Thomas were walking up the aisle, arm in arm, the theme song from Beauty and the Beast playing on a violin. My Chloe was a married woman.
Instead of walking out of the sanctuary with Randall, who brought a date to his daughter’s wedding (two guesses where he found her), I recessed on Jin’s arm. Both of us wiped away tears and accepted congratulations. I ignored Randall and his twentysomething grad student. I refused to let him ruin my day.
The reception in the church hall was fine. It was just what Margaret wanted and it was perfect for Chloe’s and Thomas’s friends from Minnie’s and from the LoGs. There were mini hot dogs wrapped in strips of piecrust, pieces of fruit on toothpicks, cheese and crackers and red punch out of a punchbowl. Chloe and Thomas held hands and laughed and accepted congratulations. They clapped when they saw the pile of wedding gifts on a table near the door.
“Those are for us?” Chloe asks me, her cheeks red with excitement.
“All for you and Thomas,” I assure her.
Thomas stares at the piles of pretty boxes wrapped in silver and gold, with white ribbons. “I . . . I c . . . can open p . . . presents!”
“I open the presents!” Chloe insists, glaring at him. “I’m the bride, dummy head!”
“Now, now,” I whisper under my breath. “You have to be nice to Thomas, Chloe. Thomas is your husband now.”
“A . . . and you h . . . have to b . . . be nice t . . . to me,” he says in her face.
“Let’s cut the cake!” Margaret declares, standing at a table covered with a white paper tablecloth that held the three-tiered white cake trimmed in pale blue. It’s in the same place the craft table had been the first time I brought Chloe to the LoGs almost two years ago.
Again, tears fill my eyes. I’m not a crier. I’d gotten over that after Chloe’s birth. The business of living and caring for my daughter kept me from being a crier. But everything makes me cry today. I’m so happy for Chloe. So proud of her. So hopeful.
As I watch Chloe and Thomas cut the cake, with Margaret’s assistance, I think of my own mother and how happy it would have made her to see this moment. To share in this whole day with us. My mother was never anything like my father. She wouldn’t be embarrassed by the idea of her Down syndrome granddaughter getting married, not the way my father seemed to be embarrassed today. She would never have been embarrassed by Chloe or by me or by the fact that I gave birth to a child who was less than perfect.
My mother wouldn’t have seen Chloe that way. She would have seen Chloe for the perfect woman she is.
“Nice job,” Jin whispers in my ear.
I press my lips together, watching Chloe and Thomas as they wield the cake knife together. Jin hands me a tissue to blot my eyes.
“You’ve handled this so well today,” Jin goes on.
“I didn’t have any choice.”
“Sure you did.” She stands beside me and slips her arm around my waist. “Even after you agreed to the marriage, you could have dragged your feet. You could have made life difficult for Chloe and Thomas. For Margaret.” She chuckles. “For me.”
I’m watching Chloe and Thomas still try to cut the cake. Cameras and iPhones are flashing. The photographer is maneuvering around the table. Everyone is laughing, including Chloe and Thomas. Everyone is so happy.
“You made the best of a less-than-ideal situation,” Jin says.
“I don’t know, maybe my fears will all prove to be unfounded. Look at them.” I gesture, smiling. “How is this not an ideal situation?”
“Look at you, all mother-of-the-bride teary.” Abby comes up from behind me and gives me a quick hug, then stands on the other side of me and I’m between her and Jin. They’re both grinning at each other and I can’t help but grin with them.
I dab at my eyes, hoping my mascara isn’t running. “I didn’t think I’d feel this way today.”
“I think you need a drink.”
“Not getting one here,” Jin says under her breath. She had been appalled when I told her that there was no alcohol allowed in the church hall. What’s a wedding without friends and family getting hammered? she’d asked me when she heard. “But I can guarantee you there’ll be champagne back at the house.”
Everyone crowded around the cake table erupts into applause as Chloe and Thomas manage to maneuver the beribboned cake knife through the cake. I clap, too. Randall is standing a few feet from me, and we make eye contact.
For a moment, he lets down his guard. He’s smiling. At me. I see sadness in his eyes. Regret, maybe. The look on his face makes me wonder if maybe I’ve misjudged him all these years. Then his new girl appears at his side; she’s not as pretty as they’ve been in the past. But for heaven’s sake, he’ll have to take Social Security soon! He looks at her and everything on his face changes. He’s once again the arrogant man I know.
I return my attention to Chloe and Thomas. They look so sweet together, her in her wedding
gown, him in his black tux and black tie. Margaret hands them a piece of cake on a plate. She’s explaining to them what to do. They don’t know the tradition of smashing cake in each other’s faces, so it goes quickly and easily. Chloe is licking her lips; she has a little bit of blue icing on her upper lip. Thomas is stuffing more cake into his own mouth. There’s more laughing. More clapping. Thomas’s two sisters come up to give Chloe hugs and she’s . . . glowing. There’s no other word for it. My daughter, the bride, is glowing.
Within an hour of the cake cutting, the church reception is over. I thought Chloe and Thomas were going to ride with me, but a distant relative of Margaret’s has surprised Thomas with a limo ride from the church to our house. We all go outside in the cold and the dark and throw birdseed and watch Chloe and Thomas climb into a stretch Hummer limo. Their departure is delayed. Thomas is so excited that we have to wait for him while his mother runs him back inside to use the restroom. Chloe waits for him inside the limo, keeping herself busy by running the automatic windows up and down.
The wedding guests wave farewell to the bride and groom, and the stretch limo pulls away. Mark appears at my side and walks me to my car. I saw him in the church. He made the wedding, but I haven’t had a chance to speak to him. “My house flooded?” I ask him. I’m so happy that the wedding went well that I don’t really care.
“Nope. Minor problem. A split hose on the back of the washing machine. Hose replaced. Water cleaned up. Don’t you have a coat?” He removes his black wool dress coat and drops it over my shoulders.
“I . . .” I chuckle. “I guess I don’t. I was in a sweat suit when I arrived at the church.” I laugh again. That seems like a million years ago now.
“Smells like snow.” He closes his eyes and lifts his face toward the sky.
I look up. “It does.”
“Beautiful wedding.” He presses his hand to the middle of my back as we cross an icy patch in the parking lot.
The parking lot is beginning to fill with people. Cars are backing out. Guests are calling to each other. Laughing. Everyone seems to have enjoyed the wedding.
“It really was beautiful, wasn’t it?” I say. I realize Mark’s coat smells good. Like him. He looks nice in his dark gray suit. His lavender and gray tie is a nice touch.
As we approach my Honda, I fumble for the keys in my black clutch. “Here I am.” I click the fob to unlock the door. “Thanks for your coat.” I start to slip it off, but he pulls it back over my shoulders.
“It’ll be chilly in the car. You wear it home.” He opens my door for me.
“You’re coming back to the house, aren’t you?” I slide into the car, feeling pretty in my sapphire blue dress and high heels.
“Wouldn’t miss it. You owe me a glass of champagne. Maybe two.”
Mark closes my door and walks away. As I start the engine, I watch him go. Was my plumber just flirting with me?
There were a hundred people at the church and the reception. There are probably only forty-five who come back to the house. Which is just fine with me. It’s a perfect number. There are enough guests to entertain each other, but few enough that I can walk around and talk to everyone and thank them for coming.
After checking with the caterer and running upstairs to fix my makeup and take a bathroom break, I start mingling. I try to get Chloe and Thomas to walk around with me, but Chloe’s getting a little cranky. I think she’s just hungry, so I leave her sitting on one of the couches with Thomas and one of his sisters. The sister looks amazingly like Margaret, right down to the flowered dress. And she’s every bit as kind and patient with Chloe and Thomas.
I leave Chloe and Thomas with big plates of food: sautéed shrimp, mini pita pizzas, tiny bison sliders. And glasses of chocolate milk. Their choice. I offered them champagne in champagne flutes, but both of them took one sip and wrinkled their noses. Which was okay with me. Mental disabilities and alcohol can be difficult to mix anyway.
Most of the LoGs haven’t come back to the house, nor have Minnie’s other students, but Minnie is there and we talk for a while. We’ve agreed that Chloe and Thomas should continue going to her, but there are details to be worked out. Thomas receives Social Security benefits, but Margaret has mentioned that his daycare costs are too high. She seems to think that Thomas and Chloe can learn to stay home alone with each other; I have my doubts. Minnie is hoping they can work something out with the state, but the system is complicated.
Abby joins us and we start talking about the state of care for the adult handicapped in the United States. I’ve always liked Abby, but I find that I like her even better these days. She’s changed. Mellowed a little. I guess life does that to us. I get so lost in the conversation that I almost miss my father and Gloria slipping out the front door. They’re talking to Randall. His grad student is missing. Maybe past her bedtime?
“Will you excuse me?” I say. “I think my dad and his wife are leaving.”
Abby and Minnie continue with their animated conversation.
“Dad. Gloria.” I smile. “Going already?”
It’s a silly question. They’ve both got their coats on. Gloria has a knit hat, scarf, and gloves on.
Gloria smiles. “The wedding was beautiful. The reception. Both of them. Beautiful.” She opens her arms to hug me. “Everything was beautiful.”
My dad and Randall are talking. They look a lot alike tonight. Both are wearing slacks and tweed sports jackets. Dad’s wearing a porkpie hat. Both have gone gray, and both have more gut than they used to. My father is a retired high school teacher. Chemistry. I try not to think about the psychology of it all. Me marrying my father—or an image of him—after my mother’s sudden death. It’s all so . . . freshman psychology. And water under the bridge.
“I’m sorry you’re going so soon, Dad.” I give him a big hug, just because I need to. Despite all the things that have happened between us, he’s still my dad. I’m still his girl.
“What a fine wedding. Chloe was beautiful.” His hug is quick and not all that affectionate.
“She was, wasn’t she?” I glance over my shoulder at her. She’s sitting beside Thomas on the couch, still wearing her wedding gown. Her head is on Thomas’s shoulder. I can see she’s fading fast. It’s been a long day. A long week. “You said good-bye?”
“We said good-bye,” Gloria answers for him.
“You sure you can’t stay another day?” I ask. “We’re having brunch tomorrow. I’m sure Chloe would love for you to join us.”
“We’re meeting friends in Trenton.” Gloria tightens the scarf around her neck. It’s not that cold out. It’s barely flurrying, but I guess it seems colder to those who live in warmer climates.
“Maybe stop on the way home?” They drove up. No flying for my father.
“You’re busy. You’ll be exhausted.” Gloria rests her hand on the doorknob. “Such a beautiful wedding.”
“Good to see you.” Randall pumps my dad’s hand. They always liked each other. Always got along.
“Good to see you, Randall. Congratulations.”
Then my dad is gone and I’m standing at the door with my ex. I feel like I should say something to him. Our daughter got married today, something neither of us ever dreamed would happen. I forget sometimes that Randall was in that delivery room, too. When she was born.
But what do I say? I think he’s thinking the same thing. We look at each other. Then I guess we both decide there really isn’t anything we want to say.
“I think I’ll get a plate.” I point toward the dining room. “I’m starving and Chloe is going to be ready to go to bed soon.”
“I’m getting more wine.” He holds up his wineglass and then turns away.
I grab his tweed sleeve. “Thanks, Randall.”
He turns. “For?”
“Sharing the expense of this. Making our daughter happy.” My smile is genuine.
“I’m going to get that wine.”
“You do that.”
I intend to make m
y way to Chloe, but I keep stopping to talk to people. Someone gets me a glass of wine. I end up perched on a dining room chair against the wall, talking to one of my colleagues. Chloe finds me around eleven thirty.
“Mom,” she whines. “I want to take it off.” She shrugs her shoulders. “My dress. It’s itchy.”
I look up. Thomas is nowhere to be seen.
My colleague says something pleasant to Chloe and excuses herself as I get to my aching feet.
“Mom . . .”
I run my hand down her sleeve. “You want to change into something else and come back down? There’s still quite a few people here. They’ll all be gone when you get up in the morning. The wedding will be over.”
My bride is drooping. Her veil is gone. Her princess crown is hanging off one side of her head, and she has several spots of food and drink on the bodice of her wedding gown.
“Or are you ready for bed?” I ask.
“I want to go to bed.”
“Okay. Should we find Thomas?”
Chloe slumps against me. “I don’t want to. It itches.” She rubs against me.
“Okay, not a problem.” I put my arm around her and gently guide her from the dining room into the living room. Thomas is sitting on one of the couches, staring straight ahead, his mouth hung open. He looks like I feel after crashing from a serious sugar high. Margaret is standing beside him, chatting with her daughters.
I guide Chloe through the living room, stopping in front of Thomas. “Chloe’s beat,” I say to Margaret, then to Thomas, “Chloe’s ready to go to bed. How about if I help her get out of her wedding gown and into her pj’s, and then you come up.” I look back at Margaret. “Twenty minutes maybe?”
“I’m t . . . tired. I w . . . wanna go home.” Thomas leans back on the couch. His bow tie is gone, as is his light blue pocket square. He’s got food on the front of his white shirt, too.
“Not home, sweetie.” Margaret puts her arm around him. “Remember, you and Chloe are married now. You’re going to stay here with Mom Alicia and Chloe! Chloe’s your wife!”
Just Like Other Daughters Page 20
