“Perfect.”
They had pizza in bed that night, something that Rocky considered to be the ultimate indulgence, and something you could only do when you were young and in love. Growing up, Rocky hadn’t been allowed to eat food in her bedroom. Someday, they’d have kids of their own and set house rules of their own, but for now, it was just Rocky and Drew. Free to do as they pleased.
“I’m still hungry,” Rocky said, placing her paper plate on the bedside table.
“Another slice?” Drew asked, ever the dutiful spouse-to-be. He reached over for the pizza box, and opened it.
“Not for pizza.”
Five
The mother of the bride, as a bride herself
Long Island, 1982
It was love at first sight. That’s what Joanie told people. It just sounded so romantic, didn’t it? Like she was in one of those old-fashioned movies that she watched with her mother on Sunday afternoons.
But it wasn’t true. It was not love at first sight. Truth was, Joanie couldn’t remember the first moment she’d laid eyes on Matthew. He had always just been there, it seemed, the president of her sorority’s brother fraternity.
Matthew Ryan was the boy that everyone in her sorority wanted to date. Already the stuff of legends at NYC University, even though he was still only a junior. When he looked at you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. When he smiled at you, it felt like there was a ray of sun shining on your face. When he held your hand, it felt like your whole body was on fire. Yes, Matthew Ryan was handsome and smart and charming and everyone wanted him.
And he wanted Joanie.
The start of school always began with the Back to School Party at Matthew’s fraternity house. Fresh back from summer adventures, it was the place to be to reunite with old friends and start the school year off right. Joanie walked into the Theta house with her three best friends, Debbie, Jenny, and Missy, arms linked.
“Who wants a beer?” Debbie asked, and Jenny and Missy’s arms flew up in the air. Debbie liked to take charge of any situation she was in, even a fraternity party. Jenny liked to judge. And Missy just liked to drink.
“Don’t be a downer,” Jenny said to Joanie, who stood primly with her hands folded in front of her. “Have a beer.”
“I hate the taste,” Joanie said, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t help it.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Missy said. “And it helps you to acquire the lowered inhibitions necessary to have fun. We’re sophomores now. Think you can have a little fun this year?”
“I have fun,” Joanie said, fingering her pearl necklace, a gift from her mother. She tried very hard not to pout. “I always have fun.”
“Joanie’s about to become an old married lady,” Debbie said, winking at her friend. “Don’t be jealous just because she’s the only responsible one here.”
“Oh, sorry,” Jenny said. “Are you Sober Sister tonight?”
Joanie usually took the position of Sober Sister at sorority mixers—the one sister who vowed to stay sober and look out for the well-being of the rest of the sorority members. But she hadn’t that night. Amidst the excitement of her recent engagement, she’d completely forgotten. “Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.”
“Well, then, I thank you for your service,” Jenny said with an overly dramatic military salute.
Matthew caught Joanie’s eye across the room and smiled at her. She smiled back, getting a bit lost in his eyes for a moment. He was handsome, no one could argue that. A dead ringer for Rick Springfield, he was surrounded by a group of four girls as he popped the collar of his white Izod polo shirt and walked over to Joanie.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey, back.” Matthew leaned into Joanie and kissed her. As he pressed his body against hers, she felt her engagement ring press into her chest. She’d been wearing it on a chain while back at school since she hadn’t yet formally announced her engagement to her sorority. Joanie hated that she couldn’t properly wear her gorgeous ring. It was a two-carat pear-shaped stone, set on a gold band. Exactly what she’d always wanted. But the sorority announcement was tradition.
“Oh, lovebirds,” Missy said, interrupting the kiss, “Matthew is wanted up at the bar.”
Joanie looked up and saw five of Matthew’s friends chanting his name: “Ry-an! Ry-an! Ry-an!”
“I’m a little busy here, guys,” Matthew said, pointing to Joanie.
“You go. Everybody wants you,” Joanie said, and it was the truth. “This is good practice for when you become an astronaut. Everyone loves an astronaut. I’ll just have to learn to be your long-suffering wife.”
“It’s just an internship,” Matthew said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t mean I’m going off into space. It’s basically just a lot of science and math.”
“Well, they don’t know that,” Joanie said, nodding her head towards the crowd of people.
“No,” he said, looking over, then back at Joanie. “They do not. Should we go somewhere else?”
“How about this—you go be with your fan club, and I’ll grab us something to eat. Meet back in the front room in twenty minutes?”
“You’re the best,” Matthew said, and gave her a quick kiss before running off to the bar.
Joanie walked up to the rooftop, and could barely move, it was so packed with people. They’d set up a huge grill, and she got at the end of a long, winding line to order hamburgers.
“Cut-sies!” Debbie yelled out, as she grabbed Joanie and dragged her up to her spot near the front of the line. The crowd groaned.
“I could have waited.”
“We’re at the Theta Alpha house, which is our brother fraternity, which means it is basically our house, which means you shouldn’t have to wait for a hamburger!” Debbie was yelling.
“How many beers have you had?”
“Oh, I did a few shots on my way up,” Debbie explained, still yelling. “So, now I need to eat a hamburger so that the grease will soak up the alcohol. It’s basic science.”
“Should I get you a glass of water?”
“No, Sober Sister! I’m fine.”
“You definitely seem fine.”
“It’s our turn!” Debbie yelled as the brothers manning the grill asked for their order. “If I don’t have a cheeseburger with pickles right this very moment, I will literally die.”
Joanie laughed. Drunk or sober, Debbie could always bring a smile to her face. “I’ll take two cheeseburgers as well,” Joanie said.
“Got it. You want something for Ryan, too?” he asked as he flipped a set of burgers.
“Do you think I’m eating two cheeseburgers?”
“Ryan hates cheese.”
“Oh, right,” Joanie said, quickly correcting her gaffe. “I know that. I meant, a hamburger and a cheeseburger.”
“I’ll take the extra cheeseburger!” Debbie said, raising her hand as if she were in elementary school. “What? You shouldn’t waste food.”
Joanie laughed as they took their plates and made their way down to the front room. Sorority pledges had commandeered the good tables by the windows for the sisters, and Debbie and Joanie slid into one, setting their plates down.
“Can I get you another beer, Sister Debbie?” a pledge asked.
“Why, yes, you can.”
“Beer for you, Sister Joanie?”
“I’ll take a soda, please.”
“So, what was up with that?” Debbie asked, once the pledge was out of sight. She took a tremendous bite of her cheeseburger.
“What’s up with what? I say ‘please’ to everyone. I hated the way the older sisters treated us last year.”
“Not that. I mean, yes, also that. You do not have to say ‘please’ to a pledge. But I mean the hamburger thing.”
“What hamburger thing?”
“You don’t k
now how your fiancé takes his hamburger?”
“Oh, that?”
“How does he take his coffee?”
“Trick question,” Matthew said, walking up to the table and sliding next to Joanie. “I don’t drink coffee.” Matthew kissed Joanie, and she could taste the beer, still on his lips.
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” Debbie said, polishing off the last bites of her (second) cheeseburger. “Pledge! I asked for a beer!”
“Alone at last,” Matthew said, and leaned in for another kiss. “Stay over tonight.”
“I have to be home by midnight,” Joanie said, taking a peek at her watch to check the time. It was only nine. Plenty of time to enjoy the night.
“Bet you’re regretting that decision not to stay in the dorms this semester, huh?” Matthew gently took her hand in his own. His smile was full and warm. Even his eyes smiled at her. “I mean, your freshman year it makes sense to live at home. I guess. But I told you that you’d want to be in the city for sophomore year.”
“Yeah, totally,” Joanie said, but really, she was lying. She liked living at home. Sure, her mother could be overprotective, but there was something so comforting about being home. Starting college at the same school that her sister had attended had done something to her. Walking the same hallways that her older sister Michele had once walked left her feeling unmoored, unsure of who she was, but when she was back home with her parents, it was like she could breathe. She knew everything would be all right when she was back under her mother’s roof.
Her mother hadn’t always been overprotective like this, of course. But everything had changed when Michele died suddenly of a heart attack three years ago at age twenty. She could feel her mother’s grip even tighter. Her hugs were stronger; she would say “I love you” every time Joanie left the house. It was like she was constantly afraid that each time she said goodbye, it would be the last time.
But Joanie understood. She felt it, too. This feeling that life was so ephemeral, that everything could change in an instant. She wanted to be strong for her mother, let her know that she would never cause her more pain. She would be good. She wouldn’t give her mother any reason to stay up at night worrying about her. To do otherwise would just be selfish. She couldn’t let her parents suffer more.
The rest of the night went by in a blur—talking, dancing, kissing—and once the clock struck eleven, Joanie’s Prince Charming reminded her of her curfew: “We don’t want you to turn into a pumpkin, Cinderella.”
Joanie checked her watch. “Thank you. I should go.”
“I’ll take you to the train station.”
“You don’t have to leave the party. I can make it over there on my own.”
Matthew looked at Joanie and smiled. “But I want to.”
Out on the street, Matthew hailed a cab. Joanie looked around to the downtown alley. There were three homeless people huddled between two shopping carts, a blanket draped over the two carts to create a sort of roof. Joanie rooted around her clutch and found a five-dollar bill. She walked over to give it to them. They didn’t have a can out at this hour, but surely they would take the money?
“What on earth are you doing?” Matthew said, grabbing her arm. “You could get mugged. They’re probably on drugs.”
“They look hungry,” Joanie said, her voice small.
“We can’t take the chance,” Matthew said, as a cab pulled over. “You know how dangerous the city can be at night. You’ve got to be careful. Get in.”
Joanie got into the cab and slid over for Matthew. She looked out the window and saw the three homeless people getting smaller, and smaller still, as they drove away.
“I need to make sure my future wife stays perfectly safe.” Matthew offered her a sweet smile, the sort that always made her melt.
“Future wife,” Joanie repeated. She loved the way that sounded. She leaned into him for a kiss.
“Penn Station, Long Island Rail Road,” the cab driver announced, and Matthew had his money out, ready to pay.
“Thank you, Matthew,” Joanie said, and gave him a peck on the lips.
“I’m coming with you,” he said, following her out of the cab. “I’m not letting you wait on that dark platform alone.” He held her hand as they rushed into Penn Station and down onto the platform to await Joanie’s train.
“I can think of a few things that would be appropriate for a dark platform,” Joanie told Matthew.
“Can you now?” He grabbed her close, and kissed her. He tasted sweet, and his kisses made her head feel light. Perhaps she was regretting her decision to live at home this semester?
“I love you,” Matthew said as the train pulled up. Joanie checked that she had her train ticket, wallet, and keys, and then quickly kissed him goodbye before rushing onto the train. As it pulled away, she looked out the window and waved at Matthew, standing firm and tall on the platform, not walking away until the train left the station safely. She blew a kiss at him and he pretended to catch it and put it in his pocket. It was only later, as the train neared her station on Long Island, that she realized she forgot to tell Matthew that she loved him, too.
Six
The seamstress
Paris, 1958
Most of the girls who worked in the loft used their lunch breaks to go out onto the city streets, but Rose preferred the quiet. She would sit by the back door of the atelier and eat her homemade sandwich, listening to the sounds of the city, sketching her dress ideas.
Also, no one ever invited Rose to tag along.
Rose was used to being alone. Orphaned at eight years old, she was taken in by an elderly aunt, and she quickly learned how to keep herself out of the way. How to make herself small. Not a bother. Barely noticeable at all.
Her aunt wore a stern expression and seldom smiled. She believed in cleanliness and seriousness and God, and she went to church every morning. (Rose accompanied her on Sundays.) She enrolled Rose in the primary school connected to the church, where Rose was taught by nuns who also believed in cleanliness and seriousness and God. They prayed every morning before their lessons began.
After school each day, Rose often found herself alone in her aunt’s garden apartment, endless hours to fill on her own. With her aunt volunteering at the church almost every afternoon, Rose would gaze out the window at the garden that connected the apartment building to the others on the block. She would see kids playing together, but heeded her aunt’s warnings to stay safely inside when she wasn’t home. Rose did not want to disappoint her. She was desperate not to alienate her only living relative.
For her ninth birthday, her aunt bought her a sketch pad and some charcoals and Rose would sketch pictures from memory of the glamorous storefronts they passed on their walks to school and church. She taught herself how to draft clean lines, and the importance of scale. The next year, her aunt bought her a proper art kit, filled with oil pastels in sixteen different colors. The next year, it was a Little Traveler’s sewing kit, complete with a doll for dressing, fabric to make shirts and skirts with, and embroidery thread. The year after that, a Singer Featherweight sewing machine.
Her aunt died when she was sixteen, and Rose was lucky enough to find the job at Madame’s atelier, a listing for a seamstress that seemed too good to be true. Rose spent her days at the atelier and, after work, retreated to the boarding house where she rented a room. She often wondered what the other girls did when they left work. She heard them whispering about their plans—double dates, evenings spent at the cinema, parties around town—but she was never invited. Rose may have grown up, but on the inside, she was still the same little girl, face pressed against the window, watching others have fun while she stayed in.
The back door to the atelier opened, and Rose jumped. No one had ever come back here when she was having lunch before. Things had been even stricter at the atelier since Madame had fallen ill, with Madame’s butl
er keeping an even closer eye on the girls in the loft than usual. Rose looked up and saw the butler, glancing furtively from side to side. She gathered her things—her sketch pad, her sandwich, and her hat—and readied herself to get back to work. He glanced down at her for a moment, and without a word, spun on his heel and reentered the atelier.
Rose wondered if she had done something wrong, if she wasn’t allowed to be out on the back stoop of the atelier. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the handyman, the young man who did small repairs around the atelier, as he jumped over a fence to make his way into the courtyard. When he looked up and saw Rose, their eyes met. Then, he quickly vaulted himself back over the fence, racing back to wherever he’d come from.
Two men in less than ten minutes. And both had taken one look in her direction and then fled. Was this what the other seamstresses were out chasing in their free time? If so, Rose would happily remain a spinster.
Seven
The bride
Brooklyn 2020
The office was perfectly quiet. Rocky liked to be the first to arrive each day, at 7:30 a.m. sharp. She reveled in the silence. Having the office all to herself before the chaos of the day, it felt more sacred than a church. She looked around the space—the company she’d created—and a feeling of pride washed over her. This was all hers.
It wasn’t always like this, Rocky being successful, so she tried not to take it for granted. In elementary school, she lived in Amanda’s shadow. Teachers expected her to be just like her sister, a good student who always had a smile to spare. The resentment, when they discovered how different Rocky was from her sister, would be palpable, her seventh grade science teacher even going so far as to yell: “How can you be related to Amanda?” once when Rocky didn’t have her homework for the third day in a row.
It wasn’t until high school that Rocky took her classes seriously. When she saw Amanda thinking about Ivy League schools, she knew that she wanted that, too. She wanted to be successful, if only she could get out of her own way. Rocky finally listened to what her mother had been trying to tell her all along: the things that she thought were weaknesses would be the things that would make her a success. She channeled her anger, her stubbornness, into hard work, and kicked her grades into high gear. She signed up for extracurricular activities, and wrote her college essay about the coding class she’d been taking, how it was a metaphor for life in general: follow the steps in order to get the desired result.
The Grace Kelly Dress Page 3
