by Laura Wolf
Sincerely,
Amy and Stephen
june 5th
Our cake tasting is tomorrow at Piece-A Cake but Mr. Spaulding has scheduled a 5:30 P.M. staff meeting and Stephen’s got a court appearance for his pothole debacle.
Surprise, surprise. It looks like my mother will have to decide.
june 6th
My mother has informed me that our wedding cake is going to be mocha with a hazelnut filling covered in yellow frosting and white sugar flowers. Hazelnuts and mocha.
I hope our guests enjoy eating our wedding cake, since we can’t without me swelling like a blowfish and Stephen passing out from excruciating cranial pain.
june 7th
While I’m thrilled to be on a first-name basis with my UPS delivery person, receiving these wedding gifts is beginning to raise all sorts of unexpected feelings in me. Guilt, annoyance, resentment, shame…
After all, a lot of people made big sacrifices to send us such nice things. Not everyone’s rolling in it like Mandy and Jon. And I don’t want our marriage to nickel and dime those I love. Lucy actually sent us the serving platter from our dish set. That cost fifty dollars, and she’s on a fixed income!
Then there are our parents’ friends, people we’ve never met. Complete strangers at our wedding for forty bucks a head. So is it any surprise that I get annoyed when they send cheap gifts like a set of dish towels? Of course not. But after getting annoyed I begin to feel ashamed. Ashamed for judging the worthiness of complete strangers solely on the monetary value of their gifts. That’s really gross.
But not as bad as the fools who send us gifts that weren’t on our registry. How smug are people who decide they know what you want better than you do? Especially if they’ve never met you. It’s one thing if someone happens to know your taste. But the complete stranger who sends you a hand-carved clock shaped like a cow that moos on the hour? These things aren’t cheap. Nor are they returnable. I hate that.
Then you’re faced with the decision of whether to keep a gift you hate just in case the person who gave it to you happens to come to your house. Who’s got that kind of storage space? Forget it. Stephen and I have already decided that if we don’t like it, we’re exchanging it for something we need. And if we can’t exchange it we’re giving it to charity. Let the less fortunate listen to that damn mooing cow.
But of course I’ll be sending everyone a thank-you note regardless of what they give us. And I do mean “I,” because Stephen’s chicken scrawl is so illegible people often mistake it for Arabic. It’s long and laborious, this process of writing thank-you notes. I’ve already written thirty-eight, which means I’ve had to devise thirty-eight different ways to say thank you and still sound sincere. But that’s all right, because I really am thankful.
* * *
Dear Jerry and Mimi,
We greatly apreciate the bowl you sent us for our wedding. Seldom have I seen so many brilliant colors on a single object. What an original selection. It will be beautiful on our coffee table.
Warmest regards,
Amy and Stephen
* * *
Dear Nancy,
We greatly apreciate the mosaic bowl you sent us for our wedding. It reminds me so much of the Roman antiquities I adore. What an original selection. It will be beautiful on our coffee table.
Warmest regards,
Amy and Stephen
* * *
Dear Katrina,
How thoughtful you were to send us a wedding present. We greatly apreciate the copper bowl. While both modern and colonial, it will make a lovely centerpiece for our coffee table. What an original selection.
Sincerely,
Amy and Stephen
june 8th
I’m going to kill Bianca Sheppard! It took me two months to find “Sweet Sugar Kisses”—a song that’s regal, moving, and romantic without being hackneyed like “Here Comes the Bride.” And Bianca stole it! I’m certain I mentioned it to her when we spoke about wedding cakes in April. I mean, please. What are the chances of someone you know using an obscure B-side jazz instrumental as their processional music? Now all those people who come to my wedding who also went to Bianca’s will think Stephen and I stole it from her. It was ours, dammit! It was ours!!!
june 9th
Sure I’ve got seven decorative bowls, five saucers, two teacups, an iron, a blender, and an Aboriginal death mask, but I still don’t have wedding shoes!
june 10th
I picked up my dress from Katrina today. She said she felt badly about taking my money since the dress is still just “okay.” Nice. Real nice. That’s my WEDDING DRESS you’re talking about, lady!
But considering the speed with which she pocketed my check, she couldn’t have felt that bad. At least it fits well. And while it may not be perfect, it certainly is unique. That’s got to count for something, right?
Nicole stopped by my apartment while I was trying it on. She was on her way to some dance club with Pablo and wanted to borrow the bustier that she so mercilessly mocked four years ago. It seems that Pablo’s turned June Cleaver into a city-loving club rat. It beats Mr. Coffee.
She took one look at my dress and shook her head. “You’re actually going to wear that?”
“Yes, I’m going to wear it. It was Mom’s.”
Nicole lit a cigarette as she riffled through my closet. “I know. She begged me to wear it when I got married, but I refused. I can’t believe you said yes.”
Excuse me—WHAT?!
My mother offered this dress to Nicole first? What about sentimental gestures? And our big, emotional moment?!
I am the world’s biggest sucker, with the world’s ugliest wedding dress.
* * *
Dear Suzy,
We greatly apreciate the framed reproduction of Poussin’s Rape of the Sabine Women that you gave us for our wedding. I am always amazed by how vividly the Baroque painters were able to capture the pain and misery of the human condition. Thank you so much for thinking of us.
Warmest regards,
Amy and Stephen
* * *
Dear Mr. Lindstrom,
We greatly apreciate the set of salad and dessert plates you gave us for our wedding. They will undoubtedly enhance our dining experience for years to come.
We look forward to meeting you at the reception, as my mother-in-law speaks very highly of you.
Warmest regards,
Amy and Stephen
* * *
Dear Anita,
Stephen greatly apreciates the year’s supply of edible underwear that you gave us for our wedding. He’s always been a fan of dessert.
Love,
Amy
june 11th
I just got our wedding gift from Mandy and Jon. It’s an orange enamel stock pot, and I just know it’s a reject from their wedding. It’s not from our registry, it’s not their taste, and it’s certainly not ours. Mandy knows we registered for stainless steel. It’s in a nondescript box without any store name, so I can’t return it or check to see that they actually bought it.
The thing just screams RE-GIFT, RE-GIFT, RE-GIFT!
It’d be one thing if they couldn’t afford to buy us a gift, but they’re the most affluent friends we have. And to think Stephen and I spent all that money on their damn fluted crystal vase. I feel like I should mail a thank-you note to the original sender.
june 12th
After two hours of deliberation the jury has found in Stephen’s favor. They are awarding him $100 for each of his thirty-six stitches. That’s $3,600! I almost wish he’d had forty!
Who knew Stephen cracking his head on the ground was a stroke of such luck!
This is a godsend. We need this money so badly. And to think, we owe it all to Larry. And the best part is that since he agreed to represent Stephen for free—as a wedding present to us—we actually owe him nothing!!!
june 13th
As soon as I’m back from my honeymoon, assuming I survive this wedding, I’m suing
Beautiful Bride for everything they’ve got. Seventy-five percent acceptance rate, my ass! We’ve got 115 people coming! That’s 95.8333 percent! There goes that “extra” money from Stephen’s lawsuit.
So much for solvency.
june 14th
Having been actively involved in the wedding planning process for a mere twelve days, Stephen has officially begun to worry—the rehearsal dinner, Misty’s relatives, his tuxedo, his brother Tom’s refusal to wear a tuxedo, Larry’s prospective toast, the cake…blah, blah, blah. Amateur.
Meanwhile a stray cat crossed the sidewalk in front of me today. I was fairly certain that it was dark brown, but it could have been black. I’m not usually the finger-crossing, salt-tossing type of superstitious person, but it’s EIGHT days before one of the biggest events of my life. Not to mention the fact that the proofs for my “Faces” issue are due tomorrow. So who could blame me for chasing the cat down the block, across the street, through an alley, and into a Dumpster just to make absolutely positively certain that it was dark brown?
june 15th
Lucy’s doctors are concerned that travel will exacerbate her circulatory problems.
She can’t come to the wedding.
I’ve been crying all day. What’s the point of having a wedding if Lucy can’t be there to share it with me? It’s been her unfaltering support that has gotten me through these past few months.
My 115-person wedding suddenly feels very lonely.
june 16th
Anita called and invited me to dinner at Snap Dragon—a Chinese restaurant in SoHo. I assumed she wanted to apologize for callously refusing to buy my hair comb. But Snap Dragon’s carnival atmosphere of music and booze hardly suited my mood. After all, hair combs, wedding dresses, and obnoxious Tom were meaningless in the face of Lucy’s absence. But Anita insisted and I reluctantly agreed.
Thank goodness, because it turned out to be my wedding shower. Anita-style! Snap Dragon’s back room was filled with my girlfriends—Mandy, Paula, Kathy, Jenny, Suzy…even Nicole was there. And for the next four hours we ate, drank, laughed, reminisced, yelled at the top of our lungs, stood on tables, and made a total spectacle of ourselves.
It was one of the most incredible evenings of my entire life.
Here were all of my girlfriends joyfully celebrating not only my wedding but our years of friendship. Humorous stories were shared. Humiliating tales were told. And then there were the gifts: lingerie, sex toys, a Dustbuster? Paula gave me a salon gift certificate for two. Nicole returned a doll she’d spent our entire childhood denying she’d stolen. And Anita, forever impressed with Gram’s moxie, gave me a book, How to Make a Jewish Home.
Later in the evening, as a man dressed like a firefighter strutted across tabletops stripping down to a leather G-string, Mandy quietly whispered in my ear, “By the way, have your sex dreams stopped?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Mandy smiled. “That’s good to hear.” Pouring herself another glass of wine, she absently looked around the room. “So what did you do? Use a book? A shrink?”
“No, the dreams just stopped on their own. Why?”
“No reason.”
Mandy never says anything for no reason. And I was acutely aware that she was changing the topic when she asked if I’d purchased wedding shoes. But I told her my humiliating fat feet/Manfield Blossom story anyway. She just shook her head. “You really don’t want to find wedding shoes.”
Is she kidding?! “Of course I do. I’m getting married in six days.”
“Exactly. And if you find wedding shoes you’ll have nothing left to worry about except the fact that you’re getting married in six days. Those shoes are just a scapegoat for your wedding anxiety. Trust me. I did it too. Except my scapegoat was those damn Holland tulips.”
But before I could marvel at my own powers of deception, Nicole sat down next to me and lit a cigarette. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a favor to ask. Since Chet’s obviously not coming to the wedding, I’d like to bring Pablo.”
Great. “First off, smoking’s bad for your health. Second, don’t you think it’s a bit premature to be inviting Pablo to family events? Mom and Dad are going to be really upset.”
“True, but it’s your wedding, so they can’t make a scene.”
That’s what she thinks. But how could I say no? After all, if she’s willing to celebrate my wedding as her own marriage falls apart, the least I could do is allow her a date.
june 17th
As a politically correct gesture Stephen came to my apartment after his bachelor party last night. At three in the morning he stumbled in, drunk out of his mind, slurring his words, and stinking of cigars.
Oh, yeah. He was wearing a Viking helmet.
It was hysterical. After professing his love and slobbering all over me, he passed out partially clothed.
I took some Polaroids for posterity.
As soon as I got to work I called Mandy to compare notes. Had Jon also returned home wearing a Viking helmet? Mandy didn’t know. She’d been in the shower when Jon returned home at 7 A.M. “What do you think they did until seven in the morning?”
I don’t even want to know. “Played some pool. Ate breakfast.” Yeah, right.
june 18th—1:35 A.M.
I’ve shredded my “Things To Do” list. I now understand that Beautiful Bride and Prudence, with her flawless skin and million-dollar dress, are agents of the devil. Who else would promote the following:
#47. Make table-seating charts
If my guests can find their cars in the mall parking lot, then they’ll have no trouble finding an empty chair in my parents’ backyard.
#52. Decide on staff-guest ratio
How’s 1 to 115? Rest assured that my guests have all been to the salad bar at Wendy’s. They’ll be able to serve themselves just fine.
And my personal favorite:
#58. Hire limo for church-reception transport
Limousines and the Thomas family. It’s like cooking truffles with Pam. How ridiculous.
Face it. My “Things To Do” list is simple: find shoes.
june 18th
Anita called to confirm the plans for my rehearsal dinner.
ANITA
Oh, there’s one more thing. It’s not a big deal, but I think I should mention it.
I thought she was going to harass me some more about the hair comb. But I was wrong.
ANITA
In the thank-you note you sent me, you misspelled the word “appreciate.”
ME
What are you talking about?
A-p-r-e-c-i-a-t-e.
ANITA
No, it’s a double “p.”
ME
Are you certain? I mean, like you absolutely verified it with a dictionary AND a secondary source?
ANITA
Yes, Merriam-Webster’s and my higher-than-average IO. But don’t sweat it. Just spell it correctly in the rest of your thank-you notes.
What “rest” of my thank-you notes? I’ve already sent out seventy-six with the line “We greatly apreciate your gift….” Every one of our wedding guests must think I’m a complete moron!
ME
Are you certain that one “p” isn’t some alternate British spelling?
june 19th
I used Paula’s gift certificate and went to the salon after work. I’m sure she assumed that I’d take Mandy with me, but I took my mother instead. After getting a haircut and a massage, we had our toenails painted matching shades of red.
This was the first time since we started to plan this wedding that my mother and I spent quiet time together. For the last ten months our meetings had been consumed with hysterical family members and the crazed minutiae of a “Things To Do” list.
But here we were, three days from the wedding, still breathing. It was a miracle. A miracle my mother had worked incredibly hard to bring to fruition. Without her, I might have had a decent wedding dress, but I probably wouldn’t have had a wedding. Terr
y Thomas had delivered with flying colors for her firstborn. Sure, she did it without the fanfare and emotional fervor I had hoped for, but as I was finally beginning to realize, that didn’t diminish her sincerity.
So as our toenails dried a heartfelt shade of red, I told my mother how much I loved her, then thanked her for all her help.
Reclining in her pedicure chair, aglow with post-massage bliss, my mother put her hand over mine. “I know you think Nicole is some sort of family favorite. But it’s not true. My guarded enthusiasm for your wedding had everything to do with how much I love you. When your sister first decided to get married, I was thrilled. I felt it was the natural conclusion to what had already been a long and happy relationship. And because of that I threw all my energy into her wedding, never once stopping to consider if it was a sound idea. Then as time passed and I saw how her marriage was evolving, I began to reconsider. I began to wonder if it had been a mistake. It had nothing to do with Chet. I’ve always felt that Chet is an extremely decent human being. It’s just that they were so young, and they’d really never dated anyone else. And since I never took the time to think about these issues before they wed, I’ve spent the last five years praying that they’d done the right thing. Except now that they’re divorcing, I know they didn’t. And I can’t help but blame myself. Yes, it was Nicole’s decision, but I’m the mother. I should have taken better care of my baby. Because that’s what mothers do. And that’s why I was cautious about your marriage. It wasn’t because I’m indifferent to you. It’s because I love you.”
Me too, Mom. I love you too.
june 20th
After trying on every white shoe in the city of New York, I returned to the Kenneth Cole store two blocks from my house and bought the same white satin sling-backs I tried on ten months ago. They’re simple, they’re classic, and they’re affordable. If only I’d bought them ten months ago, I could have saved myself a ton of anxiety. But Mandy’s probably right. If I hadn’t agonized over my shoes I would have found something else to agonize about.
