Unbelievable

by Sherry Gammon

  “What is all this?” I asked, holding up a detailed drawing of a heart. Someone, I assumed Cole, had labeled the chambers and vessels going in and out of it, along with even more minuscule details I couldn’t make out.

  Cole took the drawing, examining it as he spoke. “Whenever I observe surgery, I like to write down my impressions.” He scribbled a note in the corner and set it back down.

  “That’s what Cole calls ‘fun’,” Maggie said to me, adding quote marks in the air. She turned to Cole. “And you wonder why you’re still single.” Maggie smiled playfully. “I have to run. I can come by tomorrow morning and help if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, we’ll need it.” I grimaced at the piles.

  “See you at ten,” Maggie said, tugging on the door three times before it opened.

  It took us four days to clear out the piles. If Maggie hadn’t helped it would’ve been longer. Cole hated parting with his drawings. Being an artist with several sketch pads of my own sitting in my apartment I sympathized completely . . . at first. When I learned that he’d transferred all but a few of them into a sketch book, it made it a lot easier to toss out the piles, for me anyway.

  When I wasn’t tossing out the pictures, I was flirting up a storm with Cole. The poor guy’s ears were infused red regularly. I did things like touch his arm, brush the hair from his forehead, and rub shoulders as we went through the stacks. Maggie got a kick out of it, and encouraged me to keep at him whenever he wasn’t around. “He needs someone to breathe a little life into him,” she laughed as he tripped his way out the office after I brushed some hair from his forehead.

  Maggie and I ate lunch together each day. Cole, who was supposed to be on vacation, got called to help in the ER regularly by Dr. Anderson, the guy who was supposed to be covering for him. “His name should be Lazy Butt, not Anderson,” I complained.

  “Lilah, that’s not very nice. He is a doctor and deserves some respect,” she said, straight-faced. “We should call him Dr. Lazy Butt.” We laughed to the point of tears.

  Maggie encouraged Cole to stand up to Dr. Butt, only Cole insisted it was no big deal since he was already at the hospital.

  By Friday, only four boxes remained. Maggie left for a dentist appointment, leaving me alone with Cole.

  “What about those? Do we need to have them hauled out, too?” I said, pointing to the boxes stacked next to the filing cabinet.

  “No. Those are full of books. Real books, not notebooks.”

  I walked over and pulled the tape from the seam of the top box and bent back the flaps. Cole reached in and removed a book.

  “This is my pride and joy,” he beamed.

  I stared down at the dilapidated leather-bound book in his hands. He lovingly caressed the cover. The title The Complete Works of Shakespeare had almost completely faded on the front. “It was my grandfather’s. He died of colon cancer when I was fifteen. The last month of his life I stopped by his house every day after school and read a few passages to him. He loved Shakespeare.” He turned the book over, eyeing the ragtag spine. “I really should get a new copy. This one’s hammered.” I knew by the tenderness with which he handled the book he had no intention of replacing it. It meant way too much to him. “What I should do is have this one rebound.”

  “That’s a good idea. May I?” I held out my hand and he gently placed the book in it. I opened the cover and thumbed through a few pages. “Why are there so many passages highlighted?” Large sections of each page were outlined in yellow. Someone had written small notes in the margins, just like the hundreds of drawings we’d spent the past four days tossing out.

  “My grandfather did that. Like I said, he loved Shakespeare. I’ll bet he memorized most of this book over his lifetime.” He pointed to a large section of Romeo and Juliet that was outlined. “This is my favorite.”

  “I played Juliet in our high school’s version of the play,” I said.

  “I’ll bet you tortured poor Romeo.”

  “Maybe,” I grinned playfully. He had my number already.

  Cole closed the book, got down on one knee and held a hand out to me. “‘But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? / It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. / Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief.’”

  “‘Ay me,’” I laughed as he stood. “It seems your grandfather wasn’t the only one who memorized this book.”

  “Guilty. He told me if I memorized a passage a day, I’d develop a photographic memory, and that school would be ten times easier for me, so I did.” He took the book and carefully perused the pages again.

  “Did it work?”

  “My memory definitely improved. I don’t know about photographic, but it’s pretty close.” He handed me back the book. “Here, test me. Open it to any page and repeat a line or two of a highlighted section. I’ll tell you the play, along with the act and scene it’s from.”

  I took the book with a smirk. He wasn’t the only lover of Shakespeare in the room. My advantage? My well-versed knowledge of love quotes. I did a paper in eleventh grade on famous love quotes from Sir William’s works. I almost felt bad for what I was about to do to Cole. Almost.

  I held up the book, and with longing in my eyes, I quoted, “‘Did my heart love till now.’” It was an easy one to start with in an effort to bolster his courage.

  “Too easy. Romeo and Juliet. Act I, Scene 5.” He smiled confidently, folding his arms after waving me on.

  I turned a couple of pages and tried again. “‘This bud of love by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.’”

  Cole shook his head. “Act II, Scene 2, same play.”

  “Okay, let’s pick a new play.” I scanned ahead and found another highlighted passage. Oh, yeah, perfect. I looked up at Cole. He was already rolling his eyes.

  “What?” I said innocently.

  “Nothing. Go ahead.”

  “‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?’” I laughed as he buried his face in his hand.

  “As You Like It. Act III, Scene 5,” he said into his palm.

  Then because I couldn’t resist the irony, I quoted, “‘I pray you, do not fall in love with me/ For I am falser than vows made in wine.’”

  “Same play, same scene. Lilah, humor me and pick something from a tragedy,” he said, exasperated.

  “You’re not very romantic, Cole. I do believe Opie would be disappointed.” I turned to Macbeth, scanning through the pages until I spotted it. “Ready?”

  “Is it from one of Shakespeare’s tragedies?” he pressed.

  “Yes. This play is as gruesome as Sir William gets.” I grimaced. He signaled for me to continue. The guy liked this little game way too much.

  “‘A heart to love, and in that heart, Courage, to make’s love known.’” I swallowed my grin as he tossed his head back and groaned.

  “What? You said a tragedy, and Macbeth is definitely that.” I set the book carefully back in the box, knowing we were done playing his little game.

  “Come on, Juliet. Let’s go down to the cafeteria and get something to drink.” Then he added before I could quip, because I was about to, “And no, not poison.”

  Chapter 5

  To my surprise Maggie asked me to go wedding dress shopping with her. What my father had told me about her just didn’t add up. She wasn’t mean, or manipulative, and she certainly didn’t come across as sadistic killer, not that I knew many of those . . . aside from my brother Alan.

  Maggie had a gentleness about her, especially with Cole. When he hurt himself, she’d be there helping him up or bandaging an injury. She encouraged him when he made disparaging remarks about his clumsiness. When she spoke with Seth over the phone, the love was almost palpable. Her eyes glowed. And her verbal abuse of Booker had me in tears. Her quick wit with the cat jokes amazed me. “Gatto means cat in Italian. I love to taunt him,” she explained with a wicked grin.

  But the thing that impresse
d me the most about her was when a drunk man from the ER accidently wandered into Cole’s office looking for the bathroom.

  “You have the wrong door. The restroom is that way,” I pointed down the hall. When he turned the wrong way, Maggie took off after him and led him to the bathroom. She waited outside until he finished and took him back to the ER waiting room.

  Doubt weighed heavily on my mind as I got in my car to meet up with her at the bridal shop.

  Hoping to lighten my mood, I turned on my mother’s favorite Ricky Martin CD and sang my way to the bridal shop. Big mistake. It only reminded me that my mother and I’d never have the chance to go wedding dress shopping together. She’d never cuddle her grandchildren. I brushed the teardrops from my lashes. “Okay, Delilah, stay focused,” I said in my harshest, Daddy-like voice.

  I pulled up to a small shop on Main Street and parked. Maggie stood in the doorway, waving me over.

  “Hi. Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it. It’ll be nice to have another female’s opinion.” She held open the glass door and I followed her inside. Mendelssohn’s Wedding March chimed out to alert the staff that a customer entered the store. “That really should be The Imperial March playing. Oh wait, you didn’t see the movies. Never mind. Prepare yourself.”

  “She’s that bad, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Maggie assured me. “I made the mistake of telling her my budget and now she keeps pushing all these expensive dresses and veils at me.”

  The shop was sleek with its modern chic décor, though not something I’d have chosen for a bridal salon. It felt cold and sterile, not inviting in the least.

  A priggish woman stepped out, a wide smile filling her face. This was who Maggie called Darf Vader? She looked nothing like the daunting guy dressed in black I’d seen in pictures. This Vader was completely unintimidating, and dressed entirely in pink. Pink cropped jacket, pink pencil skirt, even pink pumps. Then she smiled. “Dolores Umbridge,” I said under my breath. Maggie’s shoulders shook a little.

  “Ms. Brown. So good to see you again.” She greeted Maggie with a stiff hug.

  “Hello. This is my friend Lilah. I brought her along to help me decide.” Maggie set her purse down on the cold, dark leather couch.

  “Oh.” Darf raked her eyes over me slowly, starting with my black boots, and working her way up my black calf-length leggings and white tunic. She stopped just a moment to eyeball my black belt with silver studs that hung on my hips. Yeah, too-over-the-top for her.

  Darf turned her back to me and stepped up to Maggie, though I could still see her toad-like face in the mirror over Maggie’s shoulder.

  Lowering her voice, Darf said, “Dear, maybe you should bring your mother.”

  “She’s dead,” Maggie replied in a whisper.

  I had the pleasure of watching Darf’s face tighten as if she swallowed a mouth full of sour milk. “I’m sorry. I’m sure your friend will do just fine.”

  Darf sent Maggie into the dressing room with one of her assistants. The prig turned to me and, without saying a word, pointed to a black leather loveseat and black end table across the room. On the table laid a tray of bell-shaped cookies. I sat down and ate way too many amazing cookies. Maggie entered the room as I downed my fourth. I about choked.

  I’d never seen a more gorgeous dress. The mermaid style wrapped tight around her body and flared out at her knees with layer upon layer of crimped organza and tulle. A four-foot train trailed behind her. She looked stunning. She also looked miserable. I stepped over next to her.

  “My dear, this is the dress. You look so beautiful, does she not?” Darf Vader asked, no doubt rhetorically since she didn’t wait for an answer. “You’ll be the envy of every bride.”

  Maggie stepped up onto a platform in front of three mirrors that allowed for a 360 degree view and glowered at her image. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s right. I mean, it’s lovely, but…” She just shook her head.

  “Tell her how beautiful she looks,” Darf demanded of me.

  “She’s right, Maggie. You do look beautiful,” I offered. “However,” I added, causing Darf’s shoulders to tighten. “I get the feeling you’re not too comfortable with this dress.”

  “It needs a veil; you’ll see,” Darf insisted, scurrying off to grab one.

  Maggie looked at me and mouthed I hate it. We both giggled. “Hurry, unzip me.” She spun around and I unzipped the dress. She held it to her petite frame and said, “This dress is $7,400. She’s been trying to ram it down my throat for two weeks now.”

  “What dress do you want?” I asked. I followed her eyes to a simple, yet elegant dress hanging on a discount rack near the back.

  I ran to the rack, grabbed the dress, and rushed Maggie back into the dressing room. I made it back to the black sofa as Darf came trotting by, her arms loaded down with lace and tulle. “Where did she go?” she asked, glancing around.

  “She’s trying on another dress.” I smiled.

  “Yes, of course. I did put two gowns in the dressing room. They’re both lovely.” She laid the veils gently across the loveseat and waited.

  Maggie entered the room a few moments later, appearing angelic. The dress had a simple empire waist and looked undeniably elegant on her. And perfect. Embroidered flowers trailed down the tulle skirt and encircled the bottom. The light in the room caught the delicate diamond beading on the bodice and twinkled, but it was her face that caught my eyes. She glowed.

  “What do you think?” she asked with trepidation. “You don’t look as if you like it.”

  “Maggie, you look lovely, absolutely lovely. You’ll be the envy of every bride,” I mimicked Darf, only I meant it.

  She laughed.

  “Oh no, dearie, this is too . . . I don’t know, too simple for you. You want all eyes to be on you. You want everyone in the room to gasp in envy. This dress will never do,” Darf assured her.

  “And the fact that it costs only $249 has nothing to do with your opinion at all?” I pressed the woman. Her eyes pinched a little, but she remained silent.

  “What are you going to do with your hair?” I asked.

  That broke Darf’s short-lived silence. “I think this veil would be perfect.” She placed an elaborate veil with an even more elaborate headpiece attached to it on Maggie’s head. It was a beautiful veil, very expensive, and completely wrong.

  “I disagree, it competes with the dress,” I stated.

  “I’ve been matching young women with wedding dresses and veils longer than you’ve been alive, dear. I do believe I know a little more than you,” she murmured over the top of her pink glasses. “Now, if you pull her hair up like this. . .” she said, pulling Maggie’s pathetic hair up on top of her head away from her face.

  “I still don’t like it,” I said simply.

  “Well, you’re not the bride,” snipped the woman. “What do you think, Maggie?” She looked at Maggie sternly.

  “I agree with Lilah. It’s too much with this dress,” she said.

  The saleswoman sneered. “Fine, I’ll try something else.” She stomped away to find another veil.

  “Thanks,” Maggie whispered.

  “I don’t think Darf took it too well.”

  “Darth,” she corrected with a giggle.

  Darth returned with several more veils, each one as expensive as or more than the first, and each one not right for the dress. When she left to get more, I rummaged through a display of tiaras. I grabbed a simple one, lightly encrusted with diamonds, and few diamond and pearl studded twisty clips that sat in a basket on the counter, and took them over to Maggie.

  “What about this?” I placed the simple diamond tiara on her head, keeping most of her hair down. I randomly twisted in the pearl and diamond twists throughout her hair. She looked beautiful. I slowly turned her toward the mirror and her mouth dropped open.

  “That’s perfect,” she exclaimed, turning her head from side to side.

  “Your hairdresser will do a better job of plac
ing them more evenly, and she can add some curls here and here,” I explained, showing her what I meant. “You can add a little tulle if you want and tuck it in the back here.” I pointed to the backside. “I think this is exactly right for this dress, and it’s on clearance, only twenty dollars. Darth’s going to flip out,” I warned her, “making this all the better choice.”

  The woman returned again with another armful of overly expensive veils, stopping dead when she saw Maggie.

  “What do you think?” I asked, daring her to deny how great Maggie looked.

  “It looks good, but I think one of these will look even better,” Darth said, in an even tone.

  “No,” Maggie said, firmly. “I like this, but thanks anyway.” Darth’s mouth flapped open twice, as she clutched her ridiculously expensive veils to her chest before turning and storming off to put them back on the overpriced rack. I helped Maggie take out the tiara and clips, and she changed out of her dress.

  “Seth’s going to love the dress,” I assured her as we left the shop with everything in a handy garment bag.

  “Seth would love anything I wore. If I walked down the aisle naked he’d tell me I look beautiful,” she said with a grin.

  “I’ll bet he prefers you walk down the aisle naked.” We laughed.

  “Thanks, Lilah. It’s nice having another female to bounce ideas off. I hated trying to pick out a dress and veil on my own. Fashion is definitely not my strong suit. I usually don’t let people like that push me around, but with my limited fashion know-how, I just wasn’t sure.”

  We walked around the building toward the parking lot. “I was married once. My mom wasn’t around, either. I wish she could have helped me pick out a dress,” I explained, surprised at my own candor.

  “I’m guessing it didn’t work out?”

  “Nope. We met while living in a commune . . . long story,” I said, shaking my head. “We’d only known each other two days before we got married. Spontaneous and foolish,” I insisted. “I won’t make that mistake again. Besides, I want the fun of planning a wedding, down to the last boutonniere. Like I said, I love fashion, especially if you can get a bargain.” I pointed to the black boots I had on. “These? I got them at a second hand store. They’re designer and cost me nine dollars.”