With This Ring, I'm Confused

by Kristin Billerbeck

  “Ashley, we’ve arranged to have a Southern floral arrangement sent for your special day. The florist here will work directly with our photos of a typical Southern arrangement, and we’ll have the hydrangeas and peonies brought from Atlanta to ensure authenticity. This will take care of your something blue, not to mention remind the guests of our beloved city. She’ll be sending the columns, with directions for the local florist.” Emily looks intently at me, clearly hoping for a reaction, but I won’t let her plant the next red flag.

  “Columns?”

  “Traditional columns with floral decoration. They’ll serve as the backdrop at the church on the altar,” she says in the same tone that one would say, “Duh!”

  Columns sound good. I can live with columns. “It sounds like you have everything under control. Is there a reason I need to come to this meeting?” I ask jokingly.

  The two women look at each other. “Not necessarily. Would you like us to handle it?”

  “Sounds like you already did.”

  Emily smiles at me. Falsely, I might add. “We’ll handle everything, Ashley. You shouldn’t worry your lawyer head about it.”

  “See you next visit, at the shower,” Elaine says. “Ta-ta now!”

  They skip down the front steps. Part of me hates myself for not fighting. But I’m so sick of the battle. Look how I fought for Seth, and he was a lamb to the slaughter when the right woman wanted him. I watch them go, and I feel completely stupid, like I offered them my white flag, and they grabbed it without looking back.

  Lord, how do I know when the battle is worth the fight? How do I know when to submit and let what I truly want go?

  I open the door to Rhett’s whimpering. “I know just how you feel.”

  I walk into the kitchen to make myself an Americano, and Kay is sitting at the table. Kay has the oddest morning ritual. She prepares herself a high-carb breakfast of bagels or granola that would make most of us weigh four hundred pounds, but she’ll run five miles and keep that washboard stomach of hers, while you question if a bagel is worth that kind of effort. Especially with that disgusting soy spread she puts on top of it. Can you say, “Nasty”?

  While Kay shovels granola and bagel into her mouth in precise, alternating bites, she reads the paper in a particular order. If you come in and take one of the sections from her “to-be-read” pile, you will completely alter the course of her universe. Sometime I do this, just to keep her on her toes. Today, I wisely take from the already scanned pile. After the newspaper, she goes to her Bible, reads her passage for the day, and meditates and prays at the table. Needless to say, we don’t usually talk much in the morning, as her routine makes me crazy.

  I turn on the espresso machine and wait for it to warm up by leaning against the counter. I cross my ankles and stare at Kay.

  “Do you have to just stand there and look at me?” Kay asks with the trademark pursed lips and one eyebrow raised.

  “No.”

  “So don’t.”

  “You’re still mad at me?”

  “You are so judgmental, Ashley. You don’t know my mother from Adam, and yet you feel completely comfortable disparaging her upbringing of me.”

  “I’m no therapist, and you talk about me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am, but, Kay, your need for control is not healthy. Being unable to read the paper out of order: front page, Business, Peninsula. It’s not healthy.” It’s weird, actually.

  “Most people read the paper in order, Ashley.”

  “That’s true,” I say, pointing at her. “I’ll give you that, but most people’s entire day is not ruined when there’s a section missing. They will not call the delivery boy, who speaks not a lick of English, looking for it. They will not pull the paperboy’s automatic tip from the Visa bill.”

  “Listen, I allow you to read my newspaper for free. If you want to mess with it before I’ve read it, buy your own copy.”

  “What happened to Matt Callaway?”

  “He said he was busy with a project right now, but, Ashley, he’s having a midlife crisis. I don’t have time or the inclination to deal with that.”

  “You don’t have the inclination to deal with anything that isn’t on your clipboard and completely planned. Deal with it. Put an end to letting him think you’re still an option. Wouldn’t that feel good? Controlled?”

  “You let people walk all over you, Ashley. You let Seth do it for nearly a year. You are letting the Southern belles ambush your wedding, and you’re just sitting here drowning your sorrows in espresso. Is that the life you want for me? Well, no thanks. I’ll take my clipboard and my power.”

  “You can push this back on me all you want. You have to deal with your mother issue, and denial is not working for you anymore. She was not a good mother. She may have done the best she could, but it was still crappy. You owe Simon and Ruth an apology if you want to know what I think.”

  “I owe them an apology? How dare you belittle my mother like that?”

  “You live in fear, Kay. Your whole life is about how you can control chaos so you never get touched, but that’s not realistic. It doesn’t allow for healthy relationships, and I happen to think you’re a great catch. I would like to see you enjoy your life more, not spend it planning things for others to enjoy. Did you ever think about how you enable this singles group by doing everything for them? I mean, sheesh, Kay. It’s almost a wonder you don’t bib them before you feed them every Saturday night.”

  “Quit turning this back on me. This is about you not having any say in your own wedding. It’s pathetic, Ashley, just like you waiting around for Seth to get his act together. He left you for India. Are you going to let Kevin walk out too because you can’t speak your mind?”

  “If Kevin wants to, yes, I am. Wouldn’t it be better that he walk out on me now than after the wedding? See, I learned something in my relationship with Seth. Maybe I was a slow learner, but I did learn. I didn’t wall myself off to make sure I never got hurt again.”

  “You’re setting Kevin up to do just that. Fight for him, Ashley. Show him he means something to you! Show him now that you’re not going to take his mother’s garbage, or you’ll spend your whole life being her victim. It’s going to make him mad, sure. Who wants to be thrust into that conflict? But you mark my words. If you don’t make him do it now, he never will!”

  At this moment, Kay and I stare at each other, our eyes narrowed, our backs curved like cats with our claws at the ready. Soon, we start to giggle. “Other people’s problems are so easy to solve, aren’t they?”

  “I’ll make you a promise, Ashley. I’ll forgive Simon and tell him so, if you tell that mother-in-law of yours to take a long hike off a short pier. This is your wedding, and you’ll be having the kind of ceremony you want. You stop being a doormat, and I’ll stop wiping my feet on Simon.”

  “And if Kevin blows a gasket, and there is no wedding?”

  “Then, like you said, better to find out before the ceremony.”

  I thrust out my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” I hardly think apologizing to Simon is going to be the end for Kay, but it’s a start. Maybe the starting gate is all that’s necessary for the full run to take place.

  There’s a text message beeping on my cell phone. It’s from Kevin.

  Luv u.

  Sorry.

  B Hm soon.

  “I’ll fight for him, all right!”

  30

  My wedding shower fills me with mixed emotions. I mean, I love to get presents. Who doesn’t? But I have to act excited over kitchenware, and that fills me with trepidation. “Oooh, yea! An egg poacher!” I practice into the mirror with a plastered-on smile. Kay appears behind me in the reflection.

  “I’m glad I didn’t get you the egg poacher. You’re not very convincing.”

  “An egg poacher assumes I’m going to make eggs Benedict, which assumes I’m going to learn how to make a reduction sauce. And I’m not going to learn any of these things, so an egg poacher is simply the symbol of fai
lure to me. I will fail at this. Gee, thanks for highlighting my weaknesses.”

  “You talk about me being obsessive. At least I’m obsessive about things that matter. Hollandaise is easy. It just takes time and the right temperature. And if you get a double boiler today, you’ll be all set.”

  “You didn’t buy me a double boiler, did you?” I ask, crinkling my nose in distaste.

  “Ashley, I live with you. If I bought you something for the kitchen, it would have to do with coffee, as that’s the only time I ever see you in there.”

  “Good girl, Kay. I’ve taught you well.”

  “Are you ready to go? If that’s as good as you can do on your fake thank-yous, we should get this over with.”

  “How’s my outfit?” I twist and turn. “Kevin bought it for me when we shopped for our registry.” I model the pink pencil skirt like I’m Doris Day. “It makes me want gloves.”

  “It’s lovely, but it would be nice to see him once in a while.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ears. He comes home tonight, but with the shower, I won’t see him until at least tomorrow.”

  “But after all, tomorrow is—”

  “Yeah, funny. Let’s go.”

  “Is your sister-in-law going to be here today? Should I dress better?”

  “You should dress better, regardless of Emily, but yeah, she’s coming. And my mother-in-law. To be, my in-laws-to-be. Heaven knows I’m not claiming them until I have no choice.”

  “Okay, Ashley, remember,” she says like a quarterback in a huddle, “if they get out of hand, you need to deal with it now, or it’s going to get significantly worse after marriage.”

  “I got it. Break! Did you put Rhett out already?” I ask.

  “He’s happy as a clam. New chew toy and everything. The yard is his oyster.”

  Brea is hosting the shower, which drives Kay crazy. Kay is the consummate entertainer. Brea will probably have beanie-weenies and Sprite with sherbet floating in the middle of it. If we’re lucky, maybe some chips and store-bought dip. Brea is my oldest and dearest friend, and I know she’s thrilled I am finally making the leap to marriage. In her excitement, she has failed to remember that she’s a terrible organizer and entertainer, and that calling on Kay might not have been a bad idea. It’s not that I care what’s served at the shower, only that my two best friends are satisfied with the outcome. I can fake enthusiasm over a salad spinner anywhere.

  When we get to Brea’s, she’s got a grouping of green and pink helium balloons out front. I hear Kay groan, but she does her best to recover. “Brea could have at least allowed me to bring something. What’s her theme? Lilly Pulitzer?”

  “Brea wanted to do this, Kay. It’s been hard for us since she got married. We barely see each other since Miles and Jonathan came along. This is her way of going out of her comfort zone.”

  “Just so you know, Ashley. If I ever get married? Hire a caterer. I won’t be offended that you didn’t try it yourself.”

  “Done. But if Kevin’s mother has her way, I’ll turn into the Stepford Betty Crocker soon and whip up your hollandaise in my pearls.”

  “No one is that powerful. Not even Kevin’s mother.”

  “You know, I just don’t see what the big deal is about cooking. I think it’s great that you’re a fabulous cook, Kay. I wish I had it in me, but you can literally go to the store and buy ready-made salads, pre-marinated meats. What’s the big deal about doing it yourself?”

  “It tastes better that way, Ashley. Premarinated and probably chock full of preservatives. Not to mention, it costs more. Your problem is you don’t have refined taste buds.”

  “Maybe not, but my credit card wrist is about as evolved as they come.”

  We enter the shower and all the women yell, “Surprise!”

  Since it wasn’t a surprise, not sure what to do with this, but I smile gleefully, I hope. This is my official wedding shower! I am the bride! I did not have to purchase a set of beach towels (my normal shower gift) for someone else. Now I really do look gleeful.

  Mrs. Novak comes toward me wearing—surprise!—a St. John knit suit. “Ashley, Emily and I are so happy we could be here today.”

  “Thank you.”

  My mom comes toward me with baby Davey in her arms. “Can you believe it’s here? You’re almost wed, and here I never thought I’d live to see the day.” She snuggles up the baby’s face, suddenly switching to baby talk. “Did we, my precious little Davey-Wavey? Never thought we’d see the day.” Mom pats my cheek briefly, then turns her attention back to her grandson, where it belongs.

  Mei Ling comes and kisses me on the cheek. “I have a surprise for you. Come into the bedroom with me.”

  I say hello to my aunts and make all the possible niceties before disappearing into the front bedroom. Brea has every toy imaginable stuffed in here. It looks like a Toys “R” Us suffered a major earthquake and their shelves were emptied. The floor is completely invisible. “Wow, Brea cleaned up.”

  Mei Ling is giddy with excitement. “Sit down.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I made you something. Since you got your dress already.”

  “Did you and Dave get me the dress?”

  “Us? Ashley, we’re having trouble buying Ikea furniture for our place. We don’t have the cash to buy you a dress, but I would have made you one if someone else hadn’t done that. You know that.”

  “Who did it? Do you know?”

  “I don’t know.” Mei Ling opens the closet door and brings out a garment bag. “I know you were trying to decide on this, but I think this will be perfect. And I really wanted to do something for you. I know all about the red egg and ginger party, Ashley. Your brother has a heart of gold and a wallet of tin. Thank you for doing that for us and for keeping it quiet. He was quite the hit with my family.”

  “How’d you know I did it?”

  “Wives know everything. You’ll see.” She giggles. “Actually, Ping’s sent a copy of the credit card receipt.” Mei Ling hands me a scrap of paper. “It had your name on it, and I put two and two together.” Mei Ling unzips the garment bag she’s brought and pulls out a bridal veil.

  “Mei Ling, what did you do?” It’s the most beautiful veil I’ve ever seen. It has a platinum leaf-chain design on a tiara, dotted with Austrian crystals with more crystals rising out of the center in a flower style. The flowing tulle of the veil is anchored by more crystals and seed pearls. I’m utterly speechless as she holds it out.

  “Do you like it?”

  I grasp the veil and walk toward the mirror. “I don’t know what to say, Mei Ling. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Kay let me into your closet. It matches your gown perfectly. I checked before I made it.”

  “Mei Ling, that you would spend time to make it for me is amazing. My brother doesn’t deserve you.” I hug her in a tight embrace, and I can feel the tears well up. “You’re ruining my makeup.”

  “I’m just glad you like it. I wanted to do something for you because you’ve always been there for us. I know your mother is really into being a grandmother. I also know what it’s like to get married without my mother, so I’m sorry for that. I feel a bit responsible, and I wanted you to know we’ll do everything to make you feel like the spoiled bride.”

  I laugh. “Mei Ling, my mother is a better grandmother than a wedding planner anyway. She’s been hanging on to the coated almonds for a while now. And there’s still eight weeks to go!”

  We both giggle and hug one more time. We zip the veil back up and enter into the world of the wedding shower. The toilet paper stands in pyramids awaiting the obligatory wedding dress game, and there are pink and green decorations everywhere.

  “Brea, everything looks great!” I say.

  “You think? I made hummus sandwiches. Do you think everyone will eat them?”

  Um, no. “Sure they will. Who doesn’t like mashed garbanzos?”

  “You’re right. I’m worrying over not
hing. This was just so stressful, and John had to get the babies out on his own. I thought he might go crazy just loading all the stuff he needed to get out of here.”

  Since my friend Brea has become a mother, her dietary habits have changed significantly. Five years ago, if I’d told her she’d be serving hummus sandwiches at my wedding shower, she would have laughed me off the face of the planet. But the complete dissolution of hydrogenated oil products has forever changed her. And I fear the loss of some of her taste abilities is the final result.

  After a meal of bean sandwiches and fruit punch, we play the games no one wants to play and then get to the gifts. My aunts are here, in full sparkly regalia as always. They won the wedding dress contest like they always do. Toilet paper is their medium.

  My first gift is from Mei Ling. “Mei Ling, you already got me something.”

  “That was just a thank-you present. This is for your wedding.”

  I unwrap the silver paper and find a small picture of Kevin and me in a silver heart frame. “It’s beautiful, Mei Ling.” Gazing into the picture, I’m reminded just how long it’s been since I’ve seen my beloved. All while seeing Seth every day.

  “Maybe it’s not that practical,” Mei Ling says. “But I’ll tell you, when your brother drives me crazy, and I look at a photo where I’m beaming at him, I remember all the reasons I married him. I want you to remember that always too. Because some days it’s easy to forget.”

  “It’s perfect, thank you.”

  Next.

  A myriad of gifts until the final tally reads like this:

  ASHLEY WILKES STOCKINGDALE’S FIRST WEDDING SHOWER GIFTS

  2 crock pots

  1 double boiler

  1 salad spinner

  1 teak salad set

  Too much silverware

  8 bath towels

  3 serving platters (none of them matching my dishware)

  1 down comforter and expensive sheets from my mother