My silvery dress was hanging on my bedroom door, my new silver purse dangling from my doorknob. Could you wear too much silver to a winter wedding? I hoped not as I had metallic dressy sandals and planned to wear dangling silver snowflake earrings. Piper’s mom once taught me this fashion rule: Always take off one accessory before leaving the house. It was supposed to prevent you from “overdoing it.” But I wasn’t willing to forgo any of my silver items.
My happy dress-up thoughts were quickly overshadowed by more worrisome Forrest-related thoughts. What if he spent all his time with the Bouchard sisters, just like he did at the holiday basketball tournament? I pictured Lauren and Charlotte on either side of Forrest, each kissing one of his cheeks.
I knew I shouldn’t be worried, since we were going to the wedding as dates. We planned to go together just like the other couples we knew. Piper and Dylan would be there, but Kate and Brett were no longer a pair. Just before Christmas, Brett had broken it off because he “wanted to see other people.” (At least this excused Kate from the boyfriend Christmas gift obligation.)
Kate briefly worried that Brett may have broken up with her because of the Fat or Not list, but I assured her that could not be it. She said she still liked Brett and was a little sad, but had also confessed that hanging out with him so much had gotten a little dull. In a way, she told Piper and me, she wished she had the courage to end the relationship first. But Kate didn’t want to hurt Brett’s feelings.
“It’s better to be the dumper than the dumped,” Piper always told us. But so far none of us had taken her advice.
Thirty
11:30 a.m.
11 hours and 30 minutes until midnight
I finally woke up and found my fuzzy slippers. In the kitchen, I saw that Mom had already given me one of her dreaded chore lists. She liked to write them on index cards and even put a box next to each one so I could check off my progress. The list began with “put laundry away” and ended with “help undeck the halls.” I never liked returning the Christmas ornaments and decorations to the sad cardboard boxes and plastic tubs. Outside, my father was already unwinding the twinkly white Christmas lights from the shrubs and door frame. I protested that it was too early to take down the lights.
“It’s supposed to snow again tonight,” he said. “And I don’t want your mom out here on this ladder.”
With a baby on the way, Dad had become more protective of Mom. It was sweet. In recent weeks, he didn’t want her bringing in the heavy groceries, crawling into the storage closet, or getting into arguments with me. I exchanged sparks with Mom from time to time, which he seemed to tolerate before, but no longer. Mom had invited me to help design the nursery for the baby. It took all my strength not to paint it pink, pink, pink. But Mom said, “What if it’s a boy?” Yikes. What if?
When I was outside talking to Dad, I was surprised at how warm it was despite the four inches of snow on the ground. Everything remained coated in white except the roads, which were black and wet. The sun felt warm on my back through the fleece jacket I was wearing. I decided to go for a pre-lunch run. It got me (temporarily) out of my chores. I thought it might calm my high-strung mood and help pass the many hours I had ahead of me before I could start getting ready for the wedding.
I listened to the squeak-crunch of my sneakers on the wet ground. My breathing quickened but it was even and I felt like I wanted to keep going. I probably could have kept on running for hours with the shining sun overhead and the air cold enough to chill the back of my throat. I did not run in the direction of Forrest’s house. I actually tried to put him out of my mind. It almost worked.
Bzzz-Bzzz. It was my phone vibrating on my hip. I stopped near a square-shaped park with a gazebo in the middle. The grass was still snow-covered, but the crisscrossing pathways were clear.
“Jemma?” Piper said. “I am so upset I can’t even speak.”
“Well, you are speaking.”
“No time for jokes. Dylan just broke up with me.”
“Oh, Pipes.”
“This has never happened to me before IN MY ENTIRE LIFE,” she said.
This made me feel sad for her but it also irritated me just a tad. Piper had already had more than a dozen supercute boyfriends. Literally none of them had ever broken up with her.
“Well, what did Dylan say?”
“He said, ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’”
“What about him?” I asked.
“That’s just it. I don’t know either. He dumped me in a text.”
“Cold.”
“I know. And my phone was charging so I didn’t even see it until hours later. He already changed his Facebook status to ‘single.’”
“Well, first things first. You’re still going to the wedding, right?”
“Yes, I’m going. And I’m going to look amazing. But I’ll be alone tonight. Just like Kate. Jem, you’re the only one with a date for New Year’s.”
Oh, Piper. I am more alone than you realize.
“We’ll all hang out—the three of us. We’ll have a great time. I’m sure of it,” I said as I walked through the melting park.
“No offense, but I hope everyone doesn’t get all coupled off. It’s going to be a romantic wedding after all. With slow dancing,” Piper said.
I assured her we’d all stick together and reminded her that Bet would be there, too. She was the official videographer for the wedding. Ms. Russo wanted a video record of the event, but was trying to avoid the “wedding industrial complex” and not spend too much money. Bet offered to do it for free—her wedding gift to the happy couple.
Thirty-one
2:11 p.m.
9 hours until 11:11 and 9 hours and 49 minutes until midnight
I worked fast, accomplishing both my shower and the chores, which included undressing the Christmas tree. Then it seemed like a good time to polish my nails. Once I finished with the silver polish I spread out on the couch. There’s not much to do while you are waiting for nail polish to dry. You can’t read a book or straighten your hair or eat an orange. You just have to sit and wait. I had forgotten to turn on the TV in advance, so I just lay there waiting.
My parents must have sensed my availability, because that’s when they pounced. Both of them came in and sat on either side of me—Mom on the reclining chair and Dad on the love seat. They were looking at me so intently I got worried. Had something happened to Grandma or Donald Hall, my cat? Were they about to say I wasn’t allowed to go to the wedding? Had they found out about the Pink Locker Society?
Nope, it was none of the above. They just wanted to check in about the baby.
“It’s going to mean big changes for all of us, Jemma,” Mom said, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“But you’ll always be our Cupcake,” Dad said.
Enough with calling me Cupcake, I told them. But I also said I was getting used to the idea that the baby was coming and I was happy—happy! Was it wrong to wish for a girl, I wondered.
“It’ll be great,” I said, meaning it mostly.
They said they were glad to hear it, and left me alone with my drying nails.
I felt a little strange keeping the baby a secret from my friends for all these weeks. But truth be told, that wasn’t the biggest secret I’d been keeping. Forrest kept entering my thoughts as I got ready for the wedding. I wanted to find the courage to talk to him tonight, really talk to him.
Once dressed, with my hair straightened and all my silver on, I felt good. I decided not to wear hose because panty hose is so very old ladyish. But no hose is quite cold when it’s New Year’s Eve, so I put on a pair of black leggings. This was done for warmth, but looked kind of high fashion, I thought.
The only trouble was they were footless leggings, so my feet and toes were still exposed to the winter chill. But with thoughts swirling around my head like a blizzard, cold toes were the least of my worries.
Thirty-two
5:25 p.m.
6 hours and 35 minutes until midnight
Kate’s mom picked up me and Piper. Mrs. Parker insisted on taking some photos before she dropped us off at Gibraltar.
“I can’t help myself. You girls look like movie stars,” she told us as she parked along the curb.
Standing outside Gibraltar’s stone walls, I thought it didn’t feel so bad. My silvery toes were pleasantly chilled. I wondered if Forrest was already there. I wondered, too, if it would be another evening of me watching him chat up the Bouchard twins.
The camera flash lit up the snow-dusted stone wall, where we posed. My mother had told me Gibraltar was once the residence of a Vanderbilt. When the last owner—an elderly woman—passed away, the property fell into disrepair. A group of local horticulturalists brought the garden back to life, but the house remained shuttered and boarded up.
Even in winter, Gibraltar had curb appeal. Upon those stone walls were carved sculptures of chubby, bare-bottomed cherubs and large stone bowls of fruit. It was dusky dark already, so we saw all these features only because Ms. Russo and Mr. Ford had strung white twinkle lights everywhere.
Lights lined the arched entrance to the garden. Inside, more lights dangled off tall trees and draped across the backs of benches set on either side of the aisle. Blue lights clung to the hedges on both sides of the makeshift altar where the happy couple would recite their vows. The wedding was going to be outside, for real, in the winter. The aisle itself, where Ms. Russo would make her grand entrance, was outlined with white lights.
Up a twisting path there was a huge white tent. It glowed like a Japanese lantern in the night and offered hope that we would soon be indoors.
“It’s heated,” Forrest said when he found me alone. Kate and Piper ran off to get wedding programs. Me and my toes were glad to hear about the warm tent in our future. The ground was cold and hard but clear of snow. I wiggled my toes in my sandals to ward off frostbite. Much of the snow had melted during the day, but it still clung to the garden’s fountains and sculptures, some eroded by years of sitting out in the weather. Spotlights shone dramatically upon smooth Greek goddesses and more chubby cherubs. In summer, the fountains would be alive and splashing but tonight they were just frozen observers of this romantic scene.
I tried not to stare, but Forrest looked amazing in a blue sport coat and tie, like he might have been yachting earlier in the day. Overcome at the sight of him, I told one of my secrets.
“My mom’s going to have a baby,” I said.
“Seriously?” he asked.
“For real.”
Forrest rocked back on his heels and raised his eyebrows. Then he turned and pulled me into a hug. He let me go, put his hands on my shoulders, and looked me straight in the eye.
“Wow, Jem. Awesome,” he said, then his hands dropped to his sides again.
“Yeah, I hope it’s a girl,” I said.
I nodded and we both turned to watch the wedding scene unfolding before us.
“Oh, I’m shocked,” Forrest said sarcastically. “I still remember when they told me my mom was going to have Trevor.”
“What were you—two years old?”
“Yeah, I have a good memory. I’m glad he was born. He didn’t get really annoying until, like, last year.”
“You’re the first person I told. First friend, I mean.”
“Really?” he said.
He was standing near a pair of chimeras, little garden stoves that flickered with orangey-red flames. I imagined what he was feeling at that very moment. I’ve always liked the pillow of warmth that surrounded campfires, or fireplaces. I tried to stand in the spot where the cold and warmth met. It reminded me of the night Forrest and I talked outside on my back porch, while s’mores cooked on the grill.
It felt like a thousand days since that moment, when he squeezed my hand and first told me of his plan. Not much time had actually passed, but I felt like a different person now.
Having an almost-real boyfriend had changed me. I felt older, probably because that almost-real boyfriend was the love of my life. It was like there were two different Forrests. One I made up in my head when he was only a crush. And the other who was a real guy, who needed a favor from me, who sometimes was nice to me. (He was awfully sweet about the baby.) And sometimes he seemed to not care much one way or the other. You can’t go back, my mother likes to say. I guess I couldn’t go back to the time when Forrest was just someone exciting to think about. I knew the real Forrest, at least a little, and he knew me.
I had hoped it would inspire in him a genuine love for me, but it hadn’t. It was like we were teammates. We had a job to do: pretend to be a couple. We did it and we went on with our separate lives. It was at that moment I made a decision.
Everyone was starting to situate themselves on the bench seats. Kate and Piper found us, handed us both programs, and we took seats that gave us a good view. Those already seated kept looking over their shoulders to see if the bridal party was in view. Just then, the music started playing. Real musicians were seated to the left of the altar. Bows met violins and this fairytale setting now had almost everything.
Thirty-three
6:11 p.m.
5 hours and 49 minutes until midnight
Ms. Russo, for weeks, had been complaining about how getting married had become this enormous industry and there were a billion things you needed to buy and services you needed to employ to make it official. She had dropped two Bible-thick bridal magazines on her desk as proof.
She and Mr. Ford pledged to not do things by the official rules. No wedding planners, no special videographer (Bet would do), no expensive location, and no flowers. They would have frozen in the cold anyway, she said. They really did it their way, I thought, as the crowd turned to face the back of the garden. Everyone in the places, Ms. Russo stood at the top of the frozen aisle, her hands warm in a furry white muff (not real animal fur, she told us).
She wore a matching cape with a fur collar. The dress underneath was simple and long-sleeved, made of heavy silk. It skimmed the ground and was tailored to fit. Wedding clothing and accessories were the only extravagances in which she apparently indulged.
Ms. Russo looked very un-teachery tonight. Her long hair was pulled high up on top of her head. The chin-length veil framed her face like a halo as it caught light from the twinkle lights, the lanterns, and all the tall candles. Forrest sat on my left, with Kate, Piper, and Bet on my right. We were on a bench so I was happy to shift a little closer to Kate, for sheer body warmth. My toes had started to suffer. I kept a margin of space between Forrest and me.
Some survival instinct must have kicked in because I started bouncing my feet in a kind of in-place run. It was quiet, thankfully, but the people around me noticed. When Forrest looked down and saw my naked toes, his mouth fell open.
“Aren’t you freezing?” he whispered.
He took off his scarf and dropped it on my feet. I had to admit it helped. I tied it snugly around both feet and felt warmth again in my skin, layer by layer. Piper saw the exchange and winked at me.
I gave Forrest a thumbs-up, then tried to refocus on the ceremony. I didn’t want to miss the vows. Weeks ago, Ms. Russo told us that they were using traditional vows, but thankfully, the standard phrasing for the bride was now “love, honor, and cherish” not “love, honor, and obey.” No, Ms. Russo would have never stood for that.
But it wasn’t yet time for the vows. The white-haired pastor was addressing the about-to-be-married couple with some advice. He said he recommended “three Ps” for a happy marriage: provide, protect, and pursue.
Provide was just helping each other with basic stuff and also providing emotional support. Protect meant more than just moving the person out of the way of a falling rock.
“I mean protect in every sense,” he said. “Protect each other by holding each other in high esteem and speaking well of each other, to friends and family, always.”
Pursue was the one that got me. Pursue meant exactly what it sounded like. That you should “court” and s
eek out that other person. I figured it meant doing nice stuff for them or even dressing up and looking good for a date. In other words, you singled out this person as the one you wanted. You made an effort.
I tried to stop myself, but I began measuring Forrest by the standard of the three Ps. Not that we were married or anything. I knew that we were only in eighth grade. It’s just that I wished so much that we had the beginning ingredients for something that could someday be that big and important. Giving me his scarf for my cold toes was a kind gesture, but my heart knew it wasn’t enough. I had to admit that Forrest had done nothing to pursue me. That was the major missing element. It was why I felt so empty about everything.
For Forrest, this arrangement was convenient. I was a friend, and he probably thought I was a cool girl for agreeing to participate in his plan. But he was not driven in his heart by true feelings for me. And if he kissed me at midnight it would only be because he thought that’s what we were supposed to do, for the sake of appearances.
That stood in contrast to what I witnessed in that illuminated garden. Ms. Russo and Mr. Ford turned to each other and took their vows. They held hands and spoke directly to one another. Ms. Russo had trouble getting through her lines. At one point, she raised her hands—palms out—to Mr. Ford. This gesture seemed to hold back a flood of emotion and she was able to finish what she was supposed to say. It was the “for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health” part. I saw Mrs. Percy, two rows ahead, dab her eyes with a tissue. I was curious to see Mr. Percy, but the person sitting beside her was an older woman.
Mr. Ford said his vows in a clear, steady voice and then the priest announced that these two teachers were husband and wife. They went in for the kiss even before he said to. All of us, the rows of students, family, and friends, broke into glove-handed applause. The newly married couple bounded up the aisle and I saw Bet race in that direction to catch their triumphant march on video. With almost equal vigor, the crowd headed for the winding path that led to the glowing warmth of the tent. Someone had taken an early peek and said it had an ocean of tables and a dance floor.
The Forever Crush Page 9
