Wedding Girl (24 page)

“Thanks, Dad, but for now, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

“Okay, good.” More slamming noises. “I have to go.”

“Don't poke the bear.”

“I won't. Love you.”

My poor dad. I can't imagine what is going on with my mom, and I wish Bubbles were here to talk it through with me. Plus it is a little embarrassing that her social life is so much better than mine. Ruth is out of town for some sort of conference; Jean is on lockdown with her new show and has been avoiding contact since breaking up with Hanna upon their return from Connecticut. Apparently, after the birthday party, Jean tried to go with the flow, but on their trip Hanna pouted more and more every day, and then confessed on the plane ride home that she had thought the trip was for getting engaged, and when no ring appeared, it made her angry. Jean, thank goodness, could smell the crazy, and said she thought they were moving fast even for
lesbians and should take a little break. Then she changed her locks. I tried to get her to come over tonight, but she is working on drawings for a design presentation next week. Amelia and Brian are on their honeymoon in Southeast Asia, and Bubbles is either moonlighting as a stripper or definitely has a gentleman caller, because she is out and about every other night, getting home later and later. But she still chats openly with my grandfather's spirit, so I'm not going to quiz her on it. When she is ready, if ever, she will tell me who is squiring her about town. After all, who would I be to judge about keeping a secret or two?

I make myself dinner and watch the
Kings of Pastry
documentary on Netflix, figuring I had better start boning up on some of my competition knowledge if Herman and I are actually going to not make idiots of ourselves.

After the movie, feeling even more certain of our embarrassment than before, I head upstairs to answer some Wedding Girl emails, and there is a note from Jake.

Sunny—

Cheerio and tiddly pip! I'm here in the land of rain and chill, and have just eaten my fifth dinner in a row with roasted meats and Yorkshire pudding. I believe these people think gravy is a beverage. I've settled in a bit to work, and while there is quite the mountain to climb over here, I can see the path pretty clearly, so I'm tentatively optimistic that I'll be able to do what my company needs me to within the three month time frame. I'm not sure my liver will last that long, and I may be about to set a land-speed record for fastest cholesterol jump, but what can one do?

How are things over there in the colonies? I'm dying for news.

Jake

Jake—

You're certainly up early, is it the jet lag, or are you a morning person? Glad things are off to a good start. Here's the best story I can think to share . . .

I write the
Reader's Digest
condensed version of the surprise party debacle, which is a story that just gets better the more you tell it, and then tell him about the subsequent breakup.

Sunny—

Jet lag for sure, I'm not much of a morning person as a rule. And I'm assuming you aren't either?

That is the funniest, scariest surprise party I ever heard of. Thank god your friend broke up with the crazy lady. Did she do it on the plane?

Jake

Jake—

Nope. In the cab on the way back from the airport. And no, not a morning person.

Sunny

S—

Oh, that is fantastic! You have to promise to tell me the unabridged version of that story when I'm back. I bet you are leaving out tons of juicy details.

J

I have to say that it does make me feel a bit warm and fuzzy for him to mention our future date so offhand.

J—

Yes, well, we shall see if you are worthy of such a wonderful story. You might have to earn it a bit.

S

This is about the most blatant flirting I've done, and I hope it lands okay.

S—

Duly noted. How's your uncle doing at the store, things okay there?

J

J—

He's good, thanks for asking. Things have been picking up a little bit, some of our efforts seem to be bearing fruit, I don't know if we can save it, but we're giving it the old college try.

S

S—

Good for you! That's the spirit. Anything fun in the world of wedding advice?

J

J—

Nope just the usual stuff, family disasters, too many people RSVPing yes, stretching budgets, why are flowers so expensive, the basics.

S

S—

So I'm still your best and favorite client.

J

I laugh.

J—

Well, so far. But it's early yet.

S

S—

Ouch. Well on that note, I have to get ready to go to work, and by my clock you should be off to sleep soon. Goodnight.

J

J—

And good morning
Have a good day at work and try to eat some vegetables!

S

I hear the door downstairs unlock and look over at the clock. It is after eleven. I head downstairs and catch Bubbles attaching Snatch's leash.

“Hello, dear. I hope I didn't wake you.”

“Of course not. You taking the dog out?”

“Just a quick walkies; it's a beautiful night.”

“Want me to join you?”

“I'd love it.”

I slip into my work clogs, which are by the door, and grab my keys. We head out and the night is indeed beautiful—warm but not humid, and with enough of a breeze to keep things moving. We walk down the block, letting the dog snuffle his way and stop to pee on every tree.

“How was your evening?” I ask, trying to be conversational but not prying.

“Lovely; thank you for asking. How was yours?”

“Eventful.” I fill her in on my parents.

She laughs. “Give your mother a break. Can you imagine the upheaval? In one fell swoop she is giving up the home she's been in for over four decades, trying to figure out how to make a new place feel like home and function for her future, and planning a wedding that she never ever expected to be planning. And all of this while you are still seeking your own balance.”

“What do I have to do with it?”

“Sweet girl. A parent is only as happy as their unhappiest child. And I don't mean to imply that you are unhappy; you seem to be heading in a very good direction. But your whole life exploded, and that is hard for all of us who love you to watch. You've given up on your old dreams without really appearing to be pursuing new ones. So while your mother knows you aren't miserable, you aren't really quite happy yet, and until you are, she can't be. I think she thought the wedding would be something you could do together, but she doesn't know how to relate to you
on those things. So on the one hand, she wants to do the kind of event you will be proud of, the kind you would want for her, but she also feels like a lot of her decisions lately go sort of against her personal politics, so she's battling with herself. Imagine, all these years of their 1960s sensibilities, the choices they've always made, and suddenly they're overnight millionaires and getting married to boot? And what is worse, they like it; they like the nice things, and the financial security, and I think they even like the conventional parts of it. And that must be very scary for your poor mom to swallow, to face about herself. Plus, I don't need to tell you, she's at a complicated and difficult age, hormonally speaking, which I'm sure is exacerbating the whole megillah.”