by Melissa Hill
Terri needed a plan. There was no way she was going to figure out the mystery subway without one. She pulled out her mobile phone and attempted to look for directions, but a lack of knowledge about American network providers, and the skyscrapers towering above all of Manhattan messed with her weak internet connection.
Terri then thought of her phone’s compass feature, but compass reading was never her forte—not that anyone had actually taught her how to use one to begin with.
Just as she began to panic once more, a man dressed in a white button down shirt and a pair of jeans came running at her.
He carried a broom as he literally tried to sweep her away. Loudly, he shouted, “No loitering! Away! Away!” Though Terri could just barely understand him with his heavy accent, she got the jist of his intentions pretty quickly.
She apologised profusely as she moved from her spot up against his building, but he continued to yell at her in a language she could not comprehend.
In a rare moment of weakness, Terri placed her head in her hands, her brain pounding with stress and her eyes beginning to well with frustrated tears.
The man, looking at her properly for the first time, stopped shaking his old wooden broom and dropped it to the ground.
He put his hands in the air as he faced her. “Lady, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be upset.” He smiled at her gingerly, attempting to show some goodwill.
“I’m sorry… I’ll… I’m going now.” Terri spun around, unsure what direction she should head in. The man smiled at her knowingly.
“You lost, lady? I can help. I know New York like the back of my heart.” He crossed his heart like he was making a promise, completely unaware of the real idiom. His sudden change of temperament oddly made Terri trust him a bit more.
“I'm trying to find the subway? I need to get to…” She tried to read the writing on Michelle’s card, but was failing to understand the directions with all the numbers listed. It was the weirdest address she’d ever come across.
The man took a step closer to her, peering over her shoulder as he read: “42nd and 9th? Garment District. Bryant Park. Very popular area for ladies like you. Fashion, good shopping. Lots to do there for tourist.” He was enthusiastic now as he realised he could genuinely help her.
“Do you know how to get there?” Terri was hopeful. Maybe this guy was her New York fairy godmother sent to both scare the life out of her, and get her to where she needed to be.
The man suddenly took the card out of Terri’s hand and as she began to protest, ran back into his store at the front of the brick building.
She followed tentatively as she weaved through the maze of his tiny grocery and convenience shop. She found him behind the corner, leaning over the counter as he slowly wrote down detailed instructions on the blank side of the card.
When he finished, he handed the card back to her and returned from behind the counter. He led Terri out the door as he said to her: “Follow these and you get there in no time. Elton promises.” He scooted her towards the right, pushing her in the direction of the correct subway station, and telling her the number of the train she needed.
Before Terri could leave, she turned back to him, more grateful than she had been in her entire life. “Thank you. Thank you very much!”
She skipped off in the direction he’d pointed, following the lines of people weaving through the streets on their own journey through Manhattan.
Elton’s directions were very detailed, naming and identifying landmarks and local shops as she went.
As she passed each one, Terri made a check mark next to its name, helping her go from one location to the next until finally the subway station came into view. The glass exterior helped it stand out from the crowd and Terri was easily able to identify the big “6” showing her the way to her train.
Once on board, she managed to grab a seat nearest the sliding doors, just in sight of the sign telling her when it was time to transfer to the next train.
Finally having a moment to concentrate, she looked around.
So this is the famous subway… The train was packed with locals and tourists alike. Most kept to themselves, listening to music in giant hip headphones while others kept their noses in their books and electronics. To her right, a man strummed on a guitar as he peddled for change.
The whole experience felt surreal, yet strangely authentic and kind of exhilarating. So much so that Terri actually found herself thanking Michelle for forcing on her a baptism of fire through this vast city.
Once out of the subway, she emerged from below ground to discover a totally different Manhattan. Unlike the office block central in which the wedding planner’s office was located, this area seemed much more vibrant, full of quirkier and more interesting buildings. Gone were the black suited crowd and plush mirrored glass and concrete buildings.
Instead, Terri watched in surprise as women in funky shoes and men in flamboyant suits passed her by with smiles upon their faces.
In this part of town, she stopped to stare at window dressings and paused around statues of people sitting at the sewing machine.
Large men pushed even larger clothing racks across streets and up into buildings’ small, hidden doors. And shops opened their doors giving the crowd of passersby glances at their colourful rolls of fabrics and accessories.
The Garment District… she repeated, recalling Michelle Pierre’s description of the area.
Berkman’s Bridal Salon stood out like a sore thumb among the more colourful shops. Just like Michelle office uptown, it was decked out in white and lace, while faceless mannequins in large, elaborate bridal gowns lounged in its windows.
Terri walked to the door, but found it locked. She looked down at her phone—it was still only 6.45, and Michelle had said the place closed at 7.
She took a few steps backwards to look into the store windows, only to be stopped by the sound of a distorted male voice on an intercom. “Name? Appointment time?” the sound commanded.
Terri walked back to the door and searched for the call button.
She held it down and spoke. “Hello. Michelle Pierre sent me. I'm with Rachel Conti’s wedding party. A bridesmaid dress went missing in transit from Dublin.” Silence came over as she struggled to think of what else to say, “Michelle told me that a Jonathan would be able to help me here.”
She could hear a quick laugh as the man answered back, “Ah yes. The girl who was stupid enough to stow away her bridesmaid dress. One moment please.” A loud buzzer sounded as Terri pushed the metal and wood door forward.
The stale stench of expensive perfume hit her instantly as she looked about the room, only finding more seas of white silk and lace.
As she struggled to find the front desk, a tall thin man tapped her on the shoulder.
She spun to face him, nearly hitting him in the process.
In a cool, slick voice he said, “Terri, sweetie. Jonathan DeMoyne. Michelle has told me nothing about you, but I have a pretty good sense already…” He couldn’t contain himself as he studied the visitor’s dishevelled appearance and her messy makeup.
She was not his usual kind of customer that was for sure.
Terri brushed his insults aside, “It’s, ah …nice to meet you. I know we don’t have much time so …” She feared if she gave him any extra time to talk, it would do nothing but to eat away at her already diminished ego.
“Begin? I already have. Michelle sent me photographs of your old dress— That particular shade is very last year, but I suppose I should tell the bride that and not you…” His voice trailed off. “Either way, I found some comparable designs that should work for your body shape and … complexion. They are already laid out in the room along with some proper undergarments. I assume you will need those as well.”
Without a word in response (she suspected there was little point), Terri followed him to the changing room, whereupon she slipped into the body hugging underwear and strapless bra.
One by one, she tried on dress afte
r dress — none really working for her or giving her the same confidence as the one she’d had. Luckily for her, Jonathan seemed to agree. Terri only needed to take one or two steps out the door before he would send her back with a wave of his dainty hand.
Finally, on the last dress in the pile she allowed herself to look around at the designs on the other rows of gowns nearby. A red strapless number with an empire waist caught her attention. “Um, does that dress come in blue?”
He flashed her a smile and grabbed the dress from the rail. As he handed her the sample, he whispered, “Maybe you have better style than I thought. This is one of my favourite designs.”
Terri could see why. The dress was form flattering while still looking elegant. It hugged her body in all the right places, and the skirt swooshed from beneath her legs as she walked. It was clear what the winner was going to be as she actually allowed herself to twirl in the three hundred and sixty degree mirrors of the fitting room.
Jonathan quickly worked his magic, taking measurements and notes as he poked and prodded at the sample piece.
When he finished, he gave her an alternations ticket and instructed her to come back the following afternoon to pick up her replacement dress.
As she left the salon, Terri surprised herself by sending a short prayer to the heavens asking that her previous dress remained lost somewhere in the ether.
The one she’d just tried on was simply perfect to give her the confidence she needed to face the world — and Ethan - on Rachel’s big day.
16
The Terrace was exactly as Rachel remembered from her first visit with Gary two years before.
With its white linen table cloths and the waiters dressed in black tuxedos and white gloves, the restaurant embodied the pure, classic New York that Rachel adored.
However, she couldn’t quite allow herself to enjoy the surroundings until she was certain her bridesmaid would in fact, be joining her.
Concern struck Rachel again as she texted her friend once more, hoping to hear some good news at the end of this rather disastrous day.
As she was about to hit send, a woman totally under-dressed for the occasion and venue, strolled into the restaurant. She looked frazzled, like a wild thing.
Her fiery red hair frayed at the edges and her shirt was untucked and unkempt. But at least Terri had made it.
Rachel stood and waved at her friend, motioning her to come and join her at the table.
“How did it go? Did you at least find something you liked? Something that will go well with the rest of the girl’s dresses?” Rachel knew she could trust her, but her mind raced at the worry of someone in the wedding party standing out like a sore thumb on the day.
“Don’t you worry, your highness. I managed to find a dress in the correct shade of blue that will coordinate to Michelle’s satisfaction.”
Terri pulled out her phone and showed her a picture of the dress she had selected. Before she left, Jonathan insisted that she take a picture so the bride could see it.
The thought had never even occurred to Terri but he was right, of course.
Rachel grabbed the phone and she was glad to see for the first time that day, a genuine smile appear on her friend’s face. “Oh this is perfect. Absolutely perfect. And it will go beautifully with the flowers…”
She handed Terri her own phone so her bridesmaid could look through photo after photo of the flower choices she had made — along with those she’d discarded.
Terri nodded and smiled, all the while desperate to eat, and indeed drink. After the day she had, she needed a very large glass of wine.
Once they’d ordered their food, and Terri had downed her first delicious mouthful, she turned to Rachel. “So, what happened with Gary on the plane? When I woke up, you two were fighting. Do you want to talk about it?”
Rachel sighed as the waiter put down a tiny piece of duck confit on a gold and white china plate. “He’s just not … here, Terri. He doesn’t want to be here, I think. When I told him I’d made reservations for tonight, he said that I was too controlling, that I was taking away from the fun.”
“Can I be honest?” Terri hated that for once, she may have to agree with Gary of all people. “Maybe you have been a little highly strung about all this lately — understandable of course, but Gary doesn't really get that. Maybe it was his way of asking you to tone it down, a little, now that the worst of the mania is over?”
“The worst is over…but Terri it’s only just beginning! I wanted this time before the wedding to be about us, to bring back the lovelier memories we shared here before. That’s why I picked this place for tonight. Gary brought me here the night he proposed, and I thought he would really enjoy coming back here and reliving the experience. But I was wrong.” She looked down at her plate, crestfallen.
“It’s not that he's right or that you're wrong. He's obviously not that excited about wedding planning because really, it’s just not what men are into, is it? It’s the day itself that’s important surely.”
Rachel still looked glum. “Let’s just hope he still feels that way.”
Terri reached out and touched her friend’s shoulder. “Don’t think like that. It’s been a long day, for the both of us.” She pushed her starter away.
While she’d thought she was ravenous, she realised that she was by now almost too tired to eat. As a night owl as Rachel pointed out, she’d assumed jet-leg would be a piece of cake for her, but she guessed it was the travel and the drama that was wearing her out.
It was clear her friend was flagging too, though for very different reasons. Rachel had put so much effort into the preparations for this wedding, yet things had started to go wrong almost as soon they’d landed in the city.
Terri couldn't blame her for feeling less than optimistic.
As chief bridesmaid, she owed it to Rachel to keep her spirits up. “Let’s head back to the hotel, get a good night’s sleep and then start afresh tomorrow. What’s on the agenda anyway?”
Rachel grabbed her binder from her handbag underneath the table, and began to read from what was obviously a carefully planned schedule.
“Early breakfast at the hotel and then a meeting with the caterers to taste test and finalise food and drink options. If Gary can drag himself out of bed in time, that is.”
“Well, if he doesn’t, count me in for that.” Some good old fashioned taste testing sounded good.
“Then afterwards, we have to meet with the celebrant to discuss the wording of the vows.”
Great, Terri thought, brightening. Discussions about wedding vows would have absolutely nothing to do with her, so she’d have a little bit of time to herself to chill out or take in some of the sights.
“But afterwards, I need someone to come with me to the airport to pick up Gary’s mother.”
“What? Can Mary not figure out how to get to the hotel on her own?”
“I promised I’d come and collect her, because she’s nervous about being in a cab on her own. That Liam Neeson movie about those girls getting taken turned her off apparently.”
Terri giggled, but Rachel shook her head. “Seriously, we’re lucky she agreed to come at all, so I don’t mind going out of my way if it keeps her happy. It’s a surprise for Gary too, as he thinks she’s flying in on Friday morning, but I thought it would be nice for her to be here a little earlier, so the two of them can spend a bit of time together before the wedding. And it means she can come on the hen night with us too — help her feel more included in the celebrations.”
“O - K.” Terri wasn't convinced that fifty-something Mary Knowles would be all that enamoured of the cousin’s line-dancing and male strip-club arrangements for the hen night, but you never knew…
But it was typical of Rachel to be so thoughtful when it came to her future mother in law. Clearly she felt it was important that Mary was involved right from the outset, and knowing Rachel would continue to go out of her way to include Gary’s mum in their new life together as man and wife.
/>
Family as always, was most important to her and Terri idly wondered if Gary understood the significance of that, and what it would mean for their future.
“Okay then. What’s on the tasting menu tomorrow…” The two drifted into a conversation about the sample menus that Michelle had selected in coordination with the caterers. Despite herself, Terri got into the spirit of things, as Rachel ran through her own activities that afternoon, and her experience with lighting selections and a florist who would not stop talking. She listened patiently as her friend described in great detail all the choices to be made, and items to be finalised.
By the time the two departed for their hotel at close to midnight New York time, Terri was convinced of at least one thing that day.
She was never, ever getting married.
17
The following day, she just about managed to survive another morning of wedding planning madness, and for his part, even Gary managed to play nice.
He did not even bring up Rachel’s late return to the hotel the previous night, or try to get out of his obligations with the minister.
After a long afternoon of tasting plate after plate of hors d'oeuvres and entree selections (sometimes multiple times just for fun) and debating over the merits of each, Rachel and Gary’s wedding feast was fully finalised, and having dispatched her fiancé on an unexplained errand, she and Terri set off once again for JFK to pick up Mary Knowles, this time in a plush town car that Rachel had arranged.
Terri wondered privately if she’d ever get a chance to get to know the city what with all the shuttling here and there, but then told herself that ultimately helping Rachel was the reason she was here.
And it wasn't as if she had any great desire to see the place in any case.
The hotel they were staying at in seemed pretty generic, a chain establishment much the same as any in Ireland or London, and from what little she’d seen of the surrounding Soho area, it was full of the same uninspiring brand-name shops as back home.
