Groomless - Part 2 (10 page)

“I still vote for gigolo…and if you’re going for the whole cosplay thing, you could always call Ron again. I’m sure he’s got plenty of LARPing experience, and maybe he knows how to handle his, uh…sword.”

“You always vote for gigolo.”

“Another good line for the invitation,” she said, laughing.

“Pssh. Probably more like a Hobbit-sized dagger,” I joked. “If this were a real wedding, I would so fire you as maid of honor.”

“Honey, I ain’t the maid of anything…and certainly not honor.”

“There’s not going to be a gyno exam. I’m not marrying the heir to the throne. They won’t be having my maiden head-checked.”

“Not at all? What kind of bachelorette party is it if no stirrups are involved?”

“Kate, stop. I’m gonna gag. Besides, there will be no bachelorette party, because there won’t be any wedding, groom, or vows. It’ll just be me, playing dress-up in some frilly monstrosity and trying not to weep off my waterproof makeup when I dance with my dad. I didn’t really think he was even serious at first.”

“People with Stage 4 cancer tend to be fairly serious. It’s not like he has time to screw around with teasing you.”

“Yeah, well, I thought we’d just have our obligatory dance in the back yard. I even offered to try to shoehorn into my old prom dress.”

“The purple one? It deserves a decent burial, not another airing.”

“It’s vintage now.”

“Nothing that ugly goes vintage. You should put it in a yard sale. Maybe some kid wants to be Barney next Halloween.”

“Don’t say ‘Barney,’” I teased. “That’s so…last decade. I loved that dress. It was so shiny! Anyway, this isn’t really about me or my taste.”

“We’re not going shiny on your damn wedding gown. We’ll find a dress, and it won’t involve purple or sequins or some horrible corset like that one you tried on that almost broke your ribs. Oh…and no lace gauntlets either.”

“But with lace gauntlets it could double as a Halloween costume. I could be the next Madonna, like a virgin.”

“Um…it’s too late for that, from what you’ve told me. Apparently, Mr. Skywalker wasn’t the only Luke who knew how to use his light saber, right?” Kate said, then giggled.

I chuckled.

“And you don’t have to worry about the dress. I kind of won it with my ring set. Remember?”

“That’s right. You’re just messing with me.”

I smiled, then looked away.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said.

“I hate this,” I said, suddenly overcome with grief. “I don’t want my dad to die. I hate it so much that when I think about it, I fear I’m going to suffocate.”

“I know. I hate it too. I’m just trying to keep your spirits up.”

“I appreciate it. Gallows humor is better than feeling all maudlin.”

“Maudlin? Gosh, Julia. Where do you come up with these words? Do you have, like, the first edition of Webster’s or something? That’s worse than spinster.”

“Sorry. It just means I’m feeling sorry for myself. My dad isn’t healthy, and I didn’t meet the right guy in time for my father to walk me down the aisle.”

“The right guy is highly overrated…and I’m speaking as someone who’s had several.”

I couldn’t help but grin at that. “There’s only one right guy, and I’m sure I’d know him if I saw him. Then again, it’s entirely possible that I’ve already dated him and fucked it up so badly that I put him off women entirely. Maybe my Mr. Right is now dressed in drag, trying to meet a nice man down in Miami so they can raise poodles and—”

“Dial it back, babe. I can still call 911 if you go over the edge on me.”

“How would you even know if I crossed over into insanity?”

“Because madness has a pattern, a weird logic. As far as I can tell, you’re far too all over the place to be insane just yet.”

“I’ll consider that a good thing.”

“Julia,” Kate said seriously, “personally, I think you should let sleeping exes lie. Don’t play the Luke card. It’s a bad card or, dare I say, a wildcard.”

“That was bad, really bad and not funny whatsoever.”

Ann walked in the room and smiled. “Why did you break up again? Refresh my memory.”

“You shouldn’t stay gone so long,” I said.

“I paid all my back rent, and you couldn’t ask for a better roommate. I’m back now, so fill me in.”

“Ironically, because I wanted a commitment and he wanted a career. We were both committed to something, but he wasn’t committed to me. I thought commitment was college, then marriage, mortgage, and a kid. He was all about growing his career and wanting the fast track, but I’d been dreaming about marrying him since I was sixteen and he asked me to homecoming. He wasn’t ready for marriage. Hell, now I’m not ready for it. I keep waiting to feel all grown up. When does that kick in?”

“You’re asking me, of all people? I don’t even have a grown-up job. I work at the mall.”

“You’re a manager though.”

“Yeah, right. It’s really prestigious being in charge of all those eighteen-year-old jeans-folders. They can’t even remember to make sure the size sticker is on the outside. If my acting would take off, I’d quit. It’s so demoralizing being the queen of those who just don’t give a shit.”

“Perfect. That’s how I’ll introduce you to my fake groom’s family.”

“Are you going to invite his real family or
hire
some?” Kate asked.

“I think hiring relatives for the fake groom would be too…meta.”

“Do you really think your fake groom wants to share his fake wedding with his real family? They might replace his tux jacket with a straightjacket.”

“Nah. We’ll just say he got drunk and lost a bet with me and has to dress up. People will believe that. It’s the heartwarming stuff they can’t swallow.”

“I forgot to tell you the good news though!”

“I could use some good news, Ann. What is it?” I asked hopefully.

“You’re getting a free cookie cake!”

“What? How is that good news? How, in fact, is that news at all?”

“I told my friend Shelley about your, uh…situation. She runs the cookie place in the mall, and she thinks your story is so beautiful that she’s donating a great big cookie cake for your reception. They’re delicious, but they usually cost forty bucks or something.”

“What on Earth will it even say on the top? ‘Sorry Your Dad’s Dying’? ‘Congratulations on Your Demented Pageant of a Fake Wedding’? Next thing I know, they’ll be wanting to cater my fake baby shower.”

“This has all gone viral enough. If you have a fake baby, we’re going on tour. The Internet loves tragic human interest stories. Remember the one I emailed you about that guy and his daughter reenacting the wedding photos from when he married her mom, who then died? That stuff kills. Mega numbers in views.”

“Gee, I’d love to exploit my father’s terminal illness for publicity. Let’s do that,” I said, deadpan. “It’s enough that I did that newspaper article and agreed to that stupid talk show. I’m losing my dad, and I’m afraid this whole thing has turned into a spectacle. It was meant to be sweet, a way to grant one of his wishes, but it’s stealing the last shred of dignity I had. I appreciate all the donations and such, but in many ways, it just sucks. Free flowers and cookie cakes? Really? It’s like I’m planning his funeral instead of a wedding, and the whole damn world is invited to stick their noses in it. He said to think of it as his wake, a way to celebrate his life and the pride he takes in me and the woman I’ve become. Then it all goes Hallmark, and I black out a little.”

“I know, honey. I’m so sorry, but cookie cake!” Kate said, wearing a hopelessly fake smile that left me cracking up.             

“If it weren’t for you, I couldn’t do this. Maybe it’s all those nail polish fumes that get me through it.”

“I’m here to help, babe. Just no lace gauntlets, okay?”

“I promise,” I said, “as long as you keep your Perfectly Poufy Pink lip gunk away from me.”

“Deal,” she said, wiggling her ugly green toes.

I looked at Ann. “How was the movie job?”

“Long hours and hard work, but I made some cash.” She blew out a long breath. “But it’s over now and I have nothing lined up. And that’s why I kept my job at the mall. They’re very accommodating to my schedule. I was surprised they let me leave for so long. I was scared I might’ve lost my job. Good thing they love me over there.”

“We’re glad you’re back,” I said.

“Do I get to be a fake maid of honor?” she asked with a smile.

I laughed. “Of course!”

“And what’s the color scheme?”

“Lime green and hot pink,” Kate said.

I laughed. “I think not!”

Ann smiled. “That’s so Kate. I like Turquoise, aqua, and mint.”

“That’s lovely,” I said. “I was thinking fuschia, purple, and indigo.”

“That’s gorgeous too! But don’t you want summer colors?”

I bit my lip. “True. How about coral, teal, and light grey?”

“Those colors just happen to pair amazingly together!”

“I think it’s fun and those bright hues go perfect with a light grey to balance out the palette,” Kate said. “The contrast between coral and teal added with the basic neutral of light grey is a beautiful color scheme and a sure winner.”

“I love it!”

“Then we have a color scheme!”

Cheering, we all high fived.

* * *

Honestly, I never would have thought my life was going to head down a path like the one it was taking. I had always thought I would just marry Luke and live in an apartment with a park view. He definitely had the potential to be a high flyer, even when we were back in high school, but when he skipped out on our dreams to chase his own, I had no choice but to give him up and pursue mine. At first, I just wanted to get a job that would one day let me move to Manhattan, where the pulse of the city throbbed from Midtown. I loved to window shop on Fifth and stroll through the Met, and I loved to take pictures, dreaming that one of them would end up on the glossy pages of a magazine one day. Now, my dream was just to make it through the following Saturday night without falling to pieces.

It had been hell to deal with my father’s late-stage pancreatic cancer diagnosis. He had never complained of aches and pains; that was more my mom’s style. He kept losing weight, and even though he didn’t say it, I knew his stomach hurt him constantly, even when he took handfuls of antacids. I should have known then that something was wrong, but the doctor he went to blamed his gallbladder and sent him in for a scan. That scan was our first step on a long, dark road, because it revealed the first mass.

He was finally home from the nursing facility, and he tried to be strong and put up a brave front, but his clothes hung off of him like curtains, and his skin had a yellowish hue about it. He looked nothing at all like the father who used to carry me on his shoulders when I was little, nothing like the guy who took me out for ice cream on my fourteenth birthday and very bluntly talked to me about birth control right there over our soft-serve, to my eternal humiliation. He meant well, because he always wanted me to know how to take care of myself, and now he just wanted to say goodbye to me in style, to give me the send-off into adult life without the safety net of my dad.

Dad was so happy that we would have a professional photographer and videographer, all at no charge. He wanted us to have family pictures taken, so it would appear that all our family and friends were gathered there to celebrate a happy occasion. I spoke to him about it just being a family reunion sort of thing, but he would not hear of it. It had to be a wedding reception, with me, Julia June Cross, in a white wedding gown, tossing a bouquet of flowers tied with a ribbon. I wanted the wedding reception too. I wanted it to be perfect, with all the trimmings, just so my daddy could be part of my dream wedding. The most horrible part about it was that it wasn’t really my dream wedding at all; it was only pretend. At no fault of his own, my father would be the second man in my life who would refuse to be part of my real dream, but he couldn’t help it. Cancer left him no choice. Luke, on the other hand, had chosen his career over me, and that left me groomless at my own reception. I knew Luke would play the role for the fake reception, but what I didn’t know was whether or not that would only make reality hurt even worse.

Chapter 12

A week passed, and I managed to avoid Luke, even though he insisted on stopping by, sending me yellow flowers, and leaving me text messages. When I finally gave in and talked to him, I explained that I needed some time, and he seemed okay with it. He had told me before that he would give me my space, and he would keep that promise. So I reminded him of that.

One night, as I lay alone in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the two of us in the rain outside the nursing home. I recalled every word he’d said to me, and there was no way I could ever forget that mind-blowing feast of kisses that swirled my head from the sidewalk to the inside of his limo. I replayed the encounter over and over in my mind, and I literally could not stop thinking about him. I didn’t like feeling so out of control, but I also felt very alive for the first time in a long time. Somehow, someway, Luke had awakened me, and his kisses had sent me soaring.