by Leylah Attar
It was most definitely a guy, Fia said.
Was he worth it?
I don’t know. You should ask Dolly.
I wasn’t the only one reeling from Dolly’s confession. Naani, Rachel Auntie, Joseph Uncle, Isabelle were all staring at her with their mouths open. She’d kept it from all of us.
Finally, Fia spoke. “I didn’t push you into the water.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Then why did you accuse me of something so ludicrous?”
“Because I wanted to punish you.”
“For what? What did I ever do to you?”
“You make me feel things I don’t want to feel. Don’t you see? I didn’t choose this. I wanted to make different choices. Easier choices. And you just… You just… You won’t let me be. I convinced myself you were a mistake. I was young and curious, and I got carried away. But I’ve been running from the truth the whole time and I’m so exhausted. I love you, Fia. I’m ready to tell the whole world because that’s my truth and I can’t hide it anymore.”
Fia remained stone-faced. An ancient, fortified castle. Immutable. Unbreachable. Then the lights turned on, one by one, like a welcoming home for a lost loved one. “Well, it’s about time you came to your fucking senses.”
Dolly made a sound, like the one that had escaped me when I realized I was floating on my own. “Fia, I—”
“You hurt me, Dolly. You hurt me really bad. I don’t know if we can ever go back to the way things used to be. I need to process things. And I need to know you’re not doing this because your horoscope said it was a good day to come clean, or your tarot reader told you to go for it, or some psychic hotline re—”
“I turned to those things because I was afraid to make my own decisions. It was easier to transfer the responsibility. But no more, I promise. I’m not afraid anymore.”
As Dolly and Fia faced each other across the table, it felt like a wave had crashed and we were all swirling in the ebb. But I was wrong. The tide was still coming in. I caught a whiff of Vicks VapoRub as Naani adjusted her shawl and spoke.
“I’m moving back to India after the wedding,” she said. “To be with my first love. I found Prem Prakash Pyarelal on the internet. We’re both widowed now and want to spend the rest of our lives together.”
My mind reeled with her revelation. All this time, Naani hadn’t just been surfing the web on her phone. She’d been chatting with a man halfway across the world.
He fed me eggplant fritters, she told me. The secret looks, the butterflies in my stomach, the half-empty bottle of perfume he slipped into my hands.
“Dear God.” Rachel Auntie slammed her palms on the table. Naani stiffened beside me. I sensed a mother-daughter showdown, but Rachel Auntie turned to Joseph Uncle instead.
“The whole world is pairing up, and here we are, sleeping in separate cabins. Enough is enough, Joseph. You’re such a stubborn, stubborn man. Can’t you see I’m miserable without you? You could sell popcorn or porn and it wouldn’t make any difference to me. It’s time to stop sulking. I’ve given you enough space to brood. You are loved, Joseph. I couldn’t ask for a better man to go through the ups and downs of life. If you stopped feeling sorry for yourself long enough, you’d see that.”
Before Joseph Uncle could respond, Isabelle jumped in.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel I’m ashamed of what you do. You and Mom have treated me like a princess all my life. I’ve picked up more from the two of you than you might have wanted me to. Appearances have always been so important. Even when things are falling apart, you put your best face forward. I was painting my own faces on you, what I wanted everyone to see. All the while, I’ve been hiding my own truth from you.” She took a deep breath and gripped Thomas’s hand on the table. “I’ve converted to Greek Orthodox. Because I love this man. I love him more than whatever labels I was born with. He’s strong and honest and sincere. No matter what surprises life throws our way, I know we can get through it together.”
She glanced at George. This was Isabelle, accepting Thomas without his family’s fortune, without the lifestyle she envisioned for them.
I could feel the speculation lift off the table—the weigh-ins that hover in the background whenever someone marries into money.
She smiled at Thomas. “Through thick and thin, baby.”
The moment stretched out as Thomas averted his gaze. “Isabelle…”
Her smile disappeared at the tone of his voice. The air went still as she waited for him to continue.
“I knew,” he said, so softly that I almost didn’t hear. “I knew we were filing for bankruptcy.”
Her hand fell away from his clasp slowly, fingers curling inward like a burned leaf. “You knew? You knew, and you kept it from me?”
“I was going to tell you after the wedding. I wanted to give you the kind of day you’ve always dreamed of, the kind that we planned to have all along. I couldn’t take that away from you. The spark in your eyes when you look at me, like all your dreams are coming true—I never want to see it extinguished.”
Everything funneled down to the two people who had brought us together that evening. We’d all fallen, one by one, like dominoes, and we watched as they teetered, the silence between them wobbling back and forth.
Then the one person I forgot about spoke up.
“I can’t do this anymore,” said Teri. “I was supposed to be the one getting married this month.” She paused, feeling the weight of our stares. “I’m not married. I got a restraining order from my fiancé instead of this ring. I took it anyway.” She flashed it before us. “I had to get out of there. When I saw the ad for a job on a luxury yacht, I doctored my resume up a bit. I figured the bride would want a married woman who’s been through it all, right?” She glanced at Isabelle. “I’m sorry I lied. I can’t be your maid of honor when everything reminds me of the wedding dress hanging in my own closet. I’ve made a mess of things. I need to head back home and sort things out. I quit.”
Isabelle’s gaze remained on her, steady and unwavering. She nodded, either at Teri’s resignation or whatever dialogue was running through her head.
“It’s okay,” she finally said. “I won’t be needing a maid of honor after all.” Pushing her chair back, she stood and looked around the table. “The wedding is off.”
The wedding took place on the island of Hydra, in the same church where Thomas’s father was baptized. Joseph Uncle didn’t walk Isabelle down the aisle. In the Greek Orthodox tradition, the father accompanies the bride to the entrance of the church and the groom takes over from there. Hydra was a non-motorized island, so Joseph Uncle walked Isabelle all the way to church, through bougainvillea-drenched streets with no names.
Rachel Auntie and Dolly flanked Naani as she zigzagged her way up the stone-paved paths. I followed behind, while Fia ran up ahead, taking pictures of the bridal procession. A pair of minstrels led the way—one with a violin and the other with a lute. Turquoise views of the port glittered between stone walls. Salt-white houses rose from the hills ringing the amphitheater-shaped harbor. It was a bright, brilliant day for a wedding that almost wasn’t.
“Ready?” Joseph Uncle paused as the church came into view. Thomas stood at the gate, holding a bouquet of flowers for Isabelle. “One last chance to reconsider.”
“You’re the best dad ever.” Isabelle kissed him on the cheek. “I haven’t been the easiest daughter, but you’re still looking out for me. I wish Thomas didn’t keep things from me, but I know in my heart his intentions were good. He really loves me, Dad. I can’t keep rejecting his apologies. I can’t imagine my life without him. We still have a lot of things to figure out, and I hope we do it as gracefully as you and Mom did over the years. You can let go now, Dad. I’ll be all right.”
Joseph Uncle nodded, too choked up for words as he handed her over to Thomas. Rachel Auntie slipped her hand in his, and we followed them through the gates of the small, whitewashed church. Inside,
ornate gold frescoes glowed in stark contrast to the simplicity of the exterior. The smell of burning candles hung heavy the air.
Isabelle and Thomas held hands as the priest recited prayers and placed twin crowns, connected by a ribbon, on their heads. The ceremony was somber, until the priest said something about how the wife should fear her husband. Isabelle stomped on Thomas’s foot with a laugh. The small congregation cheered her on even as Thomas tried to playfully pin down her rebel foot.
“Na Zisete!” the guests exclaimed, after the priest invoked blessings and removed the crowns.
I handed out small bags of koufeta—sugar-coated almonds packed in odd numbers to signify the indivisible bond of marriage.
“If you slip this under your pillow tonight, you’ll dream of the person you’re going to marry,” a guest informed me.
“I don’t plan on sleeping tonight,” I said. “I’ll be up celebrating all night.”
Truth was, the only person I reached for when I closed my eyes was Alex.
Nikos appeared by my side. With Teri gone, we were paired up once again as the best man and the maid of honor.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Lead the way.” I smiled. We’d played each other in our own way, but something had solidified between us. Something had solidified between every person who’d been at the table on the final night. That last dinner had been a confessional booth—the thirteen of us, offering up our sins.
Under the rain of rice and rose petals, I looked at the faces of everyone present, one by one. Naani frowning at her phone, busy messaging PPP (my new name for her boyfriend as Prem Prakash Pyarelal was a mouthful). Beside her, Dolly laughed as Fia crouched on the steps—lens up, shoulders hunched—trying to capture the rice storm and protect her gear at the same time. George’s phone rang in the chaotic swirl of pink and white. He looked at the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket. Kassia reached for his hand and squeezed.
I didn’t know what awaited Thomas’s parents when the creditors caught up to them, but the look they shared was of two people wanting to shut the world out for another day. Standing next to them, Joseph Uncle and Rachel Auntie beamed as Isabelle and Thomas turned to wave goodbye. From driving their baby girl home from the hospital to being bystanders at her wedding, they’d never stood together with more love and respect for the other.
Nikos and I walked Isabelle and Thomas through the church gates, to the narrow street outside.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Papadakis.” I hugged Isabelle, feeling a rush of emotions for my cousin. Childhood memories. The games we made up. The pranks we played.
“You.” She stepped back and held my hands. “It was meant to be you all along. I’m sorry about Teri. I can’t imagine sharing my wedding day with anyone else by my side.”
“You might change your mind.” I picked the rice grains off her hair. “We still have the reception to get through.”
“You’re not going to topple off the stage again, Moti. I made sure there is no stage.”
“You underestimate my propensity for disaster.”
We laughed as Fia took candid shots of us.
“Isabelle?” Thomas nudged her toward the handsome horse waiting for her. “We need to get going.”
“On that?” She wrinkled her nose. “I know the island has no cars, but I’m not leaving on a smelly donkey.”
“It’s a horse, and not just any horse. A bridal horse. Look how he’s decorated with pretty flowers. He’s even got a white cloth over his saddle. You ride, and I get to lead you through the streets and show off my new wife.”
“No.”
“Isab—”
“Uh-uh.”
“Fine.” Thomas handed her the bridle rope. “I’ll ride. I’ll be damned if we’re going to let a single penny go to waste from now on.”
“Fine.”
They clip-clopped down the hill with Nikos and me trailing behind. The camera clicked as Fia captured the moment: Thomas on a bridal horse and Isabelle with a bouquet in one hand and the leash to her husband’s horse in the other, pausing every few steps to dislodge her heel from the cobblestoned streets.
As people grinned and stopped to congratulate them, my eyes fell on the cobalt-colored harbor. Somewhere among the water taxis, the fishermen’s boats and the line-up of stylish yachts, Captain Bailey was disbanding the crew of the Abigail Rose II.
The morning we anchored in Hydra, I’d taken Alex’s phone and entered my details in it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You said nothing permanent starts that way. It’s something you invite to stay.” I handed the phone back to him. “I’m inviting you to stay.”
“This is lame,” he said, scowling at the screen.
“Not exactly the reaction I hoped for.”
“You know what I mean.” He trapped me against the counter and nibbled on my ear. “Stay with me. The cruise is done, but we don’t have to say goodbye just yet.”
“I’m not saying goodbye, Alex. I’m only just saying hello to myself.” Once the truth had bubbled up to the surface, I couldn’t stop it. “I want to move out of the apartment I share with Dolly, get a place of my own. I want to take swimming lessons. I want to chase my dreams while you chase yours. And when the time is right, I want us to chase new dreams together.”
Taking it slow was right for both of us. Alex had his letter of recommendation, the job on the Kiriakis charter, and a ferry to catch out of Hydra. Two weeks in Folegandros and he’d be off again, finally earning enough to save up for his dream restaurant on the water. But as I watched the ferries depart, knowing that Alex would be on one of them tonight, I wanted nothing more than to kick off my shoes, run all the way to the harbor and straight into his arms.
The wedding ceremony had been a solemn affair, but the reception was the exact opposite. Held outdoors on a terrace hanging over the sea, it blazed with lights and music and merriment. No speeches or toasts, just eating and dancing and more eating.
Isabelle and Thomas had two first dances—the first to an Indian Bollywood tune and the second to Greek music. Everyone cheered and threw money as they danced. From the corner of my eye, I saw George slide his foot out from under the table and pull one of the bills toward him. Then he snagged another. On his third attempt, he jolted upright as if he’d been pinched hard by Kassia. They bent their heads together in a heated conversation while the guests took turns leading Isabelle and Thomas in circle dances.
“Moti,” Rachel Auntie said, coming up to me.
“You don’t think…” She looked at me with a familiar expression and then we both looked at Dolly. She was standing behind Naani’s chair, deep in conversation with Fia.
We laughed. The chances of Dolly playing dead were slim, especially when she confessed to faking it all along.
Just then, Naani stood, her eyes wide and round. She clutched her chest and stumbled backward. Her chair fell back and hit the floor.
Rachel Auntie and I rushed to her side as Dolly and Fia caught her and lowered her to the ground. Naani was pale and she kept moving her lips, but no sound emerged.
“Naani,” I said.
Her ashen face turned my way.
“Puh…” She pointed feebly toward something.
“Paani? You want water?”
I stood and reached for the jug of water on the table at the same time as Nikos. The first time I set eyes on his miniature extra thumb, I’d been getting water for Naani.
“Here.” Nikos poured a glass. “Is she okay?”
My stomach lurched at the thought of losing her. I held the water to her lips, but she shook her head.
“Puh…” she said, attempting to get up this time.
“What is she trying to say?” Rachel Auntie cried. “You think she’s had a stroke?”
“What’s going on?” Isabelle joined the circle of chaos and clutched my arm. “What’s wrong with Naani?”
An elderly man nudged his way through the crowd, calling, �
�Rosa? Rosa Rodrigues?”
Isabelle and I exchanged a look. How did he know her name?
He tried to kneel beside her, but the creak of old bones got in the way.
“Puh…” Naani whispered.
“Yes, sweetheart. It’s me. I wanted to surprise you, but maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. I couldn’t put off seeing you any longer. Greece is closer to India than Chicago. So I thought, why not? I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Puh… Puh… Puh.
PPP.
Prem Prakash Pyarelal.
Naani’s first love. In the flesh.
We got her on a chair and let her catch her breath. “It really is you,” she said. “I thought I was seeing things. You weren’t replying to my messages. I thought something was wrong.”
“You thought I’d croaked and my ghost had come to say goodbye?” He chuckled. “I was on the plane, jaanu.” He sat beside her and took her hand in his. “My God, it’s good to see you.”
Naani took in his bare, mottled scalp, the bright line of his dentures, his shiny suit. “It’s good to see you too, pyare.”
“There you are.” One of the hostesses caught up with Naani’s boyfriend. “So sorry,” she said to Isabelle. “He slipped through when we weren’t looking. Sir, please follow me out.” Her tone was more pleading than authoritative. I wouldn’t want to call security on a geriatric wedding crasher either. At least not without giving him some cake.
“It’s all right,” Isabelle said. “He can stay.”
“Thank God.” Dolly plopped on a chair after the hostess retreated. “You gave us such a scare,” she said to Naani.
“Saara drama kya tum pe hee chhod deh? Yeh to boori baat hain, na?” Can’t let you shoulder all the drama, can we? That would be unfair, right?
“Abh jao tum sab,” Naani went on. “Niklo yahaan se. Tamaasha khatm.”
Now leave us. All of you. Show is over.
We took the hint and dispersed, giving Naani some time alone with her pyare.
“You know, Moti,” Nikos said. “The best man hasn’t been fulfilling his duties tonight.”