Not Quite A Bride

by Kirsten Sawyer

  In the past I would have called Brad. He knows how close I am to my family and how much I love Logan and he would have understood and been happy. But after my exchange with Claire this morning, I feel uncomfortable calling my best friend. Damn that bitch! She is taking the joy out of everything in my life. I could call my sister, but I want to share the news as in tell it, not share it with someone who already knows, and if she doesn’t know yet, that’ll be a whole other conversation that I don’t feel like having. Neither Alex nor Lauren would really care that much. They don’t know Logan and they aren’t super close to their families. . . in fact, Alex is an only child. I guess Justin is a good option, but he’s at work. Darn!! I decide to bite the bullet and call Brad. He’s a free man ... he can decide who he wants to talk to. I dial his cell phone (okay, I’m still sort of a chicken) and it goes to voice mail. Would you like to take a guess whose voice is on his greeting?

  Brad’s voice mail used to say, “I’m not taking your call because I’m in the bathroom taking care of my scorching case of genital herpes. Leave a message; if you’re lucky, I’ll give it to you.”

  I know, it’s vulgar, it’s gross, it’s immature ... but it’s funny. You can’t help but see the humor ... and it’s not like he ever really had herpes. Well, apparently someone didn’t think it was so humorous, though. Claire’s voice now leaves a greeting so cold it’s really not a greeting at all.

  “You have reached the cell phone of Bradley Lawson. Press one to leave a message after the beep or two to leave a page.” BEEP.

  Not even a hello?

  “Brad,” I whisper to his voice mail ... like if I’m quiet she won’t hear me, “call Molly.” CLICK.

  I look around the empty apartment and spy my cat sitting on the kitchen counter, cleaning her foot. Super sanitary, I know.

  “Tiffany!” She looks up, annoyed at the distraction. “Your Uncle Logan is coming home!”

  10

  Rescuing Brad, Part Two

  The next morning I sleep late ... although I don’t realize it’s late. I awake to the phone ringing and am really annoyed that someone would be so rude as to call so early. I make my way out of bed and find the phone.

  “Hello?” I answer in a grumpy and groggy voice.

  “Good Golly Miss Molly!” my mother cheers through the phone. She is, and always has been, a morning person ... a perfect trait for a schoolteacher. I am a morning person, too, usually, but as summer vacation drags on, so does my sleep.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s 10:30 ... I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

  “No,” I lie. Now that I realize how late it is, I’m completely ashamed that I am such a lazy bum.

  “Good, I didn’t think I would. Listen, Molly, your brother will be home on Thursday morning, so that evening we are having a welcome-home dinner for him and we would like you to bring Justin.”

  “Really? Wow ... that’s wonderful. Thank you. I’m sure he would love to. Let me just check to make sure he doesn’t have to work.”

  WOW! My family must have really adored Justin to be including him in family dinners. Things are going so well!

  “Okay, let me know as soon as you can.”

  “I will, Mom. Love you.”

  “I love you, too, Molly.” CLICK.

  The way my mother says she loves me causes a momentary surge of guilt for the enormous lie I am concocting. Only for a moment, though ...

  “Eyes on the prize,” I tell myself. “White dress, tall cake, bone china.”

  Okay, I’m good. I pick up the phone to call Justin.

  “Hello?” he groggily answers the phone.

  “You kick ass!” I tell him, ignoring the fact that I have definitely woken him up.

  “What did I do?”

  “You got yourself invited to a Harrigan family dinner! Few non-Harrigans have gone where you will be going. Please tell me you don’t have to work Thursday night.”

  “Even if I’m on the schedule, I’ll get someone to cover my shift. This is awesome!” he says, trying to fake enthusiasm through his sleepiness.

  “And you wanna know the best part?”

  “That isn’t the best part?”

  “Nope. It’s Logan. You are finally going to get to meet Logan!”

  “Ah, the infamous Baby Harrigan.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  “Me neither!”

  “So, I’ll see you for dinner tonight with Lauren and Rob, right?”

  We have yet another dinner with my friends scheduled by Justin during Brad and Claire’s engagement party. I swear, he is a social butterfly.

  “Definitely. Want me to pick you up?” I offer.

  “Puh-leeze, Girlfriend. I will pick you up at eight ... and don’t be late.”

  “See you then.” CLICK.

  I bask in the glory of the success of my plan thus far while enjoying a snapping, crackling, popping bowl of knockoff Rice Krispies before remembering my true problem at hand. Operation: Save Brad.

  I check my answering machine just to make sure I didn’t somehow sleep through his callback. No blinking light—darn. Then I check my cell phone voice mail ... just to cover my bases. Needless to say, he hasn’t called me back. It’s almost 11 A.M. on a Tuesday, and even though Brad is rarely in the office (he’s usually out on assignment scouting people doing insanely dangerous, sports-related stunts), I decide to take a chance on catching him. I’m positive Claire won’t be around there ... she doesn’t understand places of employment or why people go to them. I have to look the number up since I never dial it, and as I’m waiting for it to go to voice mail, a crazy thing happens—Brad answers.

  “Brad?!?” I can’t believe it.

  “Molly? Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, of course. What’s going on?”

  “I really want to get together. When can I see you?”

  He pauses for a minute. Looking over his schedule, maybe?

  “I think we’re free tonight. Claire’s friend Andrea had to cancel because of some problem with her Botox injection. Do you want to meet us somewhere halfway?”

  Huh? US?

  “No, Brad, just you and me.”

  He pauses again, but this one is awkward.

  “Actually, Molly, Claire doesn’t want me seeing you when she’s not around. She says it’s inappropriate.”

  Now my end of the line is the one with the pause. I am utterly speechless. I manage to get out the words, “Are you kidding?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says lamely.

  “Brad. We have been best friends for twelve years. We’ve never even kissed. Okay, well, we kissed that one time our junior year, but we haven’t kissed in ten years.”

  “I know—it’s just her thing. Let’s get together, all of us.”

  “Brad, this is ridiculous. I thought it was just coincidence that she answers your apartment phone and answers your cell phone, but it’s all to keep me away from you, isn’t it?”

  More awkward silence.

  “Look, Brad,” I say, “I really need to talk to you ... in person. Is there any way?”

  After a pause that is so long I worry the line has disconnected, he asks if I am home right now. I say I am, and he says he will be right over.

  Time for some courage ... it’s definitely now or never.

  I pace back and forth across my apartment for what feels like about thirty seconds, but according to the clock it has been more like fifteen minutes, and even though I am expecting Brad, I jump a mile when the buzzer buzzes. I push the button to let him up without even talking through the intercom. A few seconds later, he’s standing at the door of my apartment, looking as nervous as I feel.

  Okay, here we go.

  “Okay, Molly. Are you all right? Is it that Justin guy?”

  “What? Huh? No. I’m fine. I’m worried about you.”

  “Me?!? What for?”

  Wow, this is going really
swell so far. I take a deep breath and realize that my hopes that this could be easy were a dream.

  “Brad, I’m worried about you marrying Claire.”

  He takes a breath, but a calm breath, and I relax a little. Maybe he just needed someone, a close friend, to tell him it’s okay to call this off. He looks at me with eyes so full of sadness I reach out to hug him ... but he puts his arms up and blocks me.

  “Molly, no. Claire was afraid this was going to happen.”

  Excuse me?!? What’s going on?

  “That’s why she didn’t want me to be alone with you,” Brad continues. “She had a feeling that you were secretly in love with me and would realize your jealousy as our wedding got closer and try to destroy our happiness,” he answers, eyes glazed over, as if he really has been brainwashed to repeat this rhetoric.

  I am speechless. I am such a combination of confusion and repulsion and hate (for Claire, of course) that I have lost the ability to form words. Finally something comes to me.

  “You are insane! And so is your stupid girlfriend!”

  Okay, not exactly the calm, cool, and collected approach I was planning to take. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and sting my cheeks as they fall down my face.

  “I am not secretly or otherwise in love with you,” I yell at Brad as he looks at me with eyes full of pity. “I am worried that you are marrying a woman who trusts you so little that she has forbidden you from seeing your best friend! She has you wrapped around her finger and you don’t even care!”

  Brad stiffens slightly. “I like being wrapped around her finger, Molly. This is exactly what she said you would say. She does trust me—she just saw what we’ve been avoiding all these years.”

  “And what’s that?” I yell.

  “How inappropriate our relationship was.”

  Again ... words are escaping me.

  “What was inappropriate about our relationship?!? We have never been anything but best friends!” I manage to blurt out.

  “But Claire pointed out to me that it’s unrealistic for a man and woman to be best friends because one of them is always thinking about sex.”

  “I NEVER thought about sex with you!” This is a slight lie ... that one night in college that we kissed I did think about sex with Brad ... and about changing our friendship, but it wasn’t worth the risk and I completely put the thought out of my head and hadn’t thought about it since (even though he was a good kisser).

  “Look, Molly, we can still be friends. We just can’t be in that place where we were treating each other like boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  I am shocked and appalled and I can’t go on anymore. I realize that my fight is futile ... I’ve already lost. The game is over, the fat lady has sung.

  “Brad, you’re making a huge mistake,” I say sadly as I open the door for him to leave.

  He steps through the door and looks back at me and for a split second I can see that he is as heartbroken as I am. I watch him walk down the hall and then close the door and sink down to the floor, sobbing.

  11

  Dinner with Lauren and Rob

  The day is totally unproductive because I am too depressed to function. I even cancel the student I was supposed to tutor at 2:30, which is a pretty stupid thing for a person in my financial situation to do. It’s like the pain of being broken up with, but SO much worse. I can’t even describe what it’s like to be dumped by your best friend.

  At 7:30 I realize that Justin will be there to pick me up in, like, half an hour. I drag myself off the couch and into the bathroom where I get the first good look at my face. I look like I’ve been beaten, seriously. My eyes are practically swollen shut, my nose looks like a cherry, and my mouth is all goopy. I need to cancel the plans with Lauren and Rob.

  I reach Justin on his cell phone. “I can’t do tonight. I need to cancel.”

  “What? No. You can’t. You’re the one who said how important it is to stick to the ‘courting’ schedule.”

  “Something awful happened today and I look too terrible to go out in public.”

  “What happened?” I am touched to hear genuine concern in Justin’s voice. A thought washes over me that maybe I don’t need Brad. Maybe Justin will want to be my new best friend and I will be okay. Then reality comes back to me—I realize I’m not in the third grade and that best friends cannot be replaced like Converse sneakers. It’s “make new friends and keep the old; one is silver and the other is gold.” No matter what, Justin will be a silver friend and I want my gold friend! I know what you’re thinking ... you thought I said I wasn’t in third grade, but you forgot I teach third grade.

  “Brad dumped me. He said we can’t be friends anymore.” My bottom lip starts to quiver as I say the words out loud and I finish with a sob.

  “Molly, I’ll be there in ten minutes. Brew some chamomile tea and put it in the fridge.”

  I’m slightly comforted that Justin is coming, but a little perturbed that he is demanding food service from me in my condition.

  I fiddle around with the tea and before I know it he’s there. He got there faster than ten minutes.

  As soon as he enters the apartment he gives me a big hug, then says, “I moved Lauren and Rob to nine, so we have some time here. What happened?”

  I admit that I did what he recommended I avoid—tell Brad what I thought of Claire—but he is still shocked when I tell him the outcome.

  “That’s not what I expected,” he says, and I whimper in agreement. “Molly, there’s nothing you can do. You tried your best. Do you want to know what I would do if I were you?”

  “Oh-kay,” I sob.

  “I would do what he asks. If the only way to be friends with him is to play by her rules, that’s what I’d do. It’s better to have him with restrictions than not at all, right?”

  I nod.

  “And sooner or later he’s going to see the truth on his own.”

  “That’s true,” I agree.

  “I know you’re sad, sweetie. But let’s get you ready to go ... it’s going to be okay.”

  “Oh, no ... I really can’t go. Look at me!”

  “I already did ... you’re a mess, but I can fix you.”

  Sometimes he is so gay!

  “Go get the chamomile tea,” he orders.

  I go to the kitchen and return with two glasses of iced tea ... I assume that’s what he wanted since he told me to put the tea in the fridge.

  “Where are the tea bags?”

  “In the kitchen,” I answer, confused.

  “Go get those. They are for your eyes. I didn’t want to have a tea party.”

  “Oh.” I get it now.

  I return with the tea bags and Justin makes me lie down on the couch with the bags on my eyes. I must admit, they feel good. As I’m lying there he smears something on my face that smells suspiciously like yogurt. I take what feels like a very short rest with the snack bar on my face before I am ordered into the shower. The hot water has evidently been on for a while and the room is very steamy. As I stand in the tub, my sinuses start to clear and I can breathe again. When I emerge, Justin has an adorable outfit laid out on my bed.

  As we are walking out the door I sneak a look in the hall mirror ... it’s hard to believe the transformation. Justin knows what he is doing! We’re like a mini version of that show, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, but we would be called, Gay Boyfriend for the Pathetic Girl. I silently remind myself that tonight is important and I cannot let my current situation with Brad destroy what Justin and I are working for.

  “Eyes on the prize: tiara, cake tasting, bachelorette party,” I say to myself. Okay ... I’m ready.

  We stand outside the restaurant and prepare to go in. I can see through the window that Lauren and Rob are already seated. Lauren and I were pledge sisters our freshman year of college. Until eight months ago, when she and Rob got engaged, we were the ever-complaining singletons ... together. But then the second she had a ring on her finger, she forgot our bond completely. At f
irst I was hurt—I mean, Lauren and I had suffered through countless bouquet tosses together—but I realized that she wasn’t being insensitive ... she was just so thrilled and excited that she forgot how it felt to be, well, me. Their wedding is now two months away and I’m sure she is bouncing off the walls.

  Justin and I look into each other’s eyes and clasp hands.

  “Ready to be deeply in love, Girlfriend?” he asks.

  “Absolutely, Boyfriend. Ready to talk about their wedding all night?” I ask with only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in my voice.

  “Be a good sport,” he gently reprimands me. “In a few months it’ll be you.”

  This reminder cheers me up enormously and we walk in, beaming (as a newly-in-love couple should), and immediately spot Rob (duh, we’d seen him through the window) waving us over.

  “Hey, guys! Sorry we’re so late,” Justin greets them wholeheartedly.

  They promise it’s not a problem as we sit down and help ourselves to the already-open bottle of wine on the table.

  “So,” Lauren looks at me, “can you believe the big day is only fifty-seven days away?!?”

  I steal a quick look at Justin before diving warmly into Lauren’s happiness.

  “No ... time has just flown by. Tell me what else you have to do.”

  Lauren and I talk about dress fittings and wired ribbon versus satin ribbon, Jordan almonds, and mothers’ corsages versus mini-bouquets. I realize it’s in my best interest to really pay attention to all this stuff now! The boys scoff at our “wedding craziness” and then discuss wedding topics that interest them, like wine, music, and food. It is actually a fantastic evening that is only made better by how much Lauren and Rob clearly like Justin. We even have such a good time (and so much wine) that my heartbreak over Brad is out of my head.

  As we walk home, Justin and I are excited to start wedding planning after all the information we got from Lauren and Rob.

  “So,” Justin begins, “Rob was telling me about how he and Lauren got engaged, and I realized that we need a really good engagement story.”