by Glynis Astie
She grinned goofily. “I know it’s the hormones talking, Syd, but I’ll take it.”
After checking his phone yet again for what I presumed was a message from my mother, Louis approached Maya with a smile. “You look incredible, Maya. Devon is a very lucky man.” He kissed her on the cheek.
Maya blushed. “Thanks, Louis.” She then turned to me and clapped her hands. “OK. Chop, chop, Syd! You need to try on your dress.”
Louis piped up. “So, I am impressed with your ability to obtain a Gerard Marant design, Maya. How did you manage it?”
She turned to the mirror and busied herself with examining her dress from a number of different angles. “It wasn’t hard, Louis. All I had to do was learn French.” She quickly realized what she had said and clapped her hand over her mouth. I heard a muffled “Shit!” sneak out from under her hand.
“What?” Louis and I asked in unison.
She closed her eyes. “Damn it.” She opened her eyes and glared at me. “Fine! The selection of maternity matron of honor dresses in this country is pitiful, so I had to search elsewhere.”
We watched her patiently, waiting for the rest of the story.
She sighed. “And in order to obtain a dress suitable for my best friend on such an occasion, I had to be able to communicate with the boutique directly. It was, after all, a custom design.”
Holy crap!
“Why didn’t you ask Louis for help?” I stammered. “That was a lot of effort to go through in the middle of your frenzied wedding planning.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to do it myself. After everything you’ve done for me…it seemed like the right thing to do.”
Suddenly, a final detail clicked into place. “So you were late to my baby shower because—”
She finished for me. “Your dress was stuck in customs.”
My lip twitched. “So you made up the bit about the custom dress case?”
She regarded me with pity. “Of course! Do you think Chanel doesn’t know how to ship a dress? Besides, my dress has been here for weeks.”
I was momentarily indignant. “How did you know I would believe you?”
She scoffed. “Please! You may have gotten a handle on your neuroses, Syd, but you’re still the most gullible person on the planet.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “You got me.”
Suddenly, she slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh! I have one more thing for you before you can try on your dress. Give me one sec. Jillian?”
Two seconds later, a tall redhead came running into the room carrying a shoe box. She handed it to Maya and scurried out of the room as quickly as she had come in.
I stared after Jillian in confusion as Maya said, “These are for you, Syd.”
I took the proffered box carefully. “Thank you, Maya. You think of everything.” Thank goodness she did, since I hadn’t spent a moment thinking about what I would be wearing on my feet the day of her wedding. Oh Pregnant Brain, you are far too amusing for your own good.
I opened the lid to find a pair of red, sparkly Mary Janes. They looked both comfortable AND gorgeous. Once again, Maya had pulled off the impossible.
I sniffled. “They’re beautiful, Maya.”
She came over and took my hand. “These are your ruby slippers, Syd.” I gazed up at her in confusion, prompting her to clarify further. “You’ve taken an incredible journey over the past two years. You’ve pushed past your fears, forced yourself to grow the hell up and you may have had to put up with a lot of crap from me along the way. So, I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. And, um, how much…I love you.”
I stared at her in amazement. It took Louis nudging me gently to pull me out of my shocked stupor.
“Thank you, Maya,” I whispered and was suddenly seized with a fit of giggles. “So, I guess that makes you Glinda the Good Witch?”
She frowned. “Well, the witch part is true anyway.”
I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, again, for everything. I’m grateful for you. I hope you know that.”
Maya carefully kissed my cheek. “I’m grateful for you too.”
Louis coughed. “This outburst of emotion from you is rather uncharacteristic, Maya.”
She shrugged her bare shoulders. “I’m human too, Louis.”
I beamed at my weepy friend. “Will wonders never cease.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
What a week it has been! An hour after we left the dress fitting with Maya (you will be pleased to know I didn’t pop any seams), we received the call that Charlie and Zoe were on their way to the hospital. Eight agonizing hours later, we received a call from an exhausted grandfather announcing the birth of Ginny Tax Bennett. Further prodding resulted in the correction to Ginny MaxBennett. (My dad needs his beauty sleep.) Had Zoe actually agreed to such a name for her daughter, I would have thought she was still under the influence of her epidural, given her intense dislike of “ironic” names for children—middle or otherwise.
Thankfully, Zoe’s labor had been easy and Charlie had shined as her coach. Louis and I were lucky enough to score photos a few hours after learning of Ginny’s arrival. I was so thrilled to be an aunt again, I didn’t even mind being awakened at three in the morning to receive the images. Her sweet little face was THAT adorable.
Each day has brought a new cluster of photos, courtesy of my mom, and I have savored every last one. They have made the perfect distraction from a day I have been both anticipating and dreading for quite a long time. You know what I mean. My due date is now a mere ten days away. My only hope is that the joy I will feel upon becoming a mother will far outweigh the pain I will endure to become one.
For the time being, the only feeling I will allow myself to dwell upon is the joy I feel for my friend Maya on her wedding day. After all the drama, heartache and effort, she and Devon have FINALLY made it to this auspicious occasion. I can’t tell you the massive sense of relief I feel, though I imagine I should wait until the ceremony is over to fully embrace it.
I glanced at the clock, wondering what was taking Louis so long, when I heard a very distinctive bellow coming from the living room. “Duck!”
Did I forget to mention my dad was coming? Both of my parents wanted to attend Maya’s wedding, but my mom didn’t want to leave Zoe just yet, especially since she would be coming out soon enough for another very important birth. So, they opted to have my dad represent the senior Bennett clan at the wedding.
Since Simone was still in residence and my father wouldn’t deign to sleep on our couch (nor would he fit with his Santa-esque build), he elected to book a room in the hotel where Maya was getting married. Dad loved nothing more than being pampered and his daughter didn’t possess the desire nor the ability to take care of him in the manner to which he had become accustomed.
Instead, I had focused my energy on more important matters—like jumping through a great number of hoops for Dr. Bauer to allow me to walk down the aisle for the wedding. She was clear in her demand that I sit both during the ceremony and the entirety of the reception. Maya wasn’t about to argue with doctor’s orders, but she was less than pleased.
My father’s voice urged me back to the present. “Duck! Where are you?”
My father cracked me up. We lived in a one bedroom apartment. There weren’t that many places to look! “In the bedroom, Dad!” I called.
He poked his head around the open door and grinned. “There you are.”
I held my arms out to him. “I’m so happy to see you!” He leaned down to embrace me and let me snuggle into him. A hug from my dad always lifted my spirits.
He sat on the edge of the bed. “So, Louis asked me to tell you that we need to leave in five minutes.”
I nodded. “I’m all set.”
As if on cue, Louis came into the room followed shortly by his mother. “Are you ready to go, mon coeur?” He flashed me a big smile, while smoothing his tuxedo jacket and wiggling his eyebrows. He looked gorgeous.
I was about t
o tell him so when I made the mistake of glancing at his mother. Simone was dressed from head to toe in sparkling gold fabric. Ever the accessorizer, she had added a sparkling gold headband, four inch gold heels, and several pieces of gold jewelry to her cap sleeved, A-line blindingly gold dress. My dad whistled appreciatively (he was also a big fan of bold fabrics), while I crossed my fingers that Maya wouldn’t harm my mother-in-law for trying to “steal her thunder” on her big day.
I forced a smile. “Tu es très belle, Simone.”
My dad nodded his agreement. “Let’s get this show on the road, kids!”
Louis grabbed our bags (we too had elected to stay the night in the hotel, booking a separate, NON-ADJOINING room for Simone) and we all headed to the car. I settled myself in the front seat, massaged my stomach wearily and whispered to Luc, “Fasten your seat belt, little man. This is going to be quite a day.”
Two hours later, Maya and I were standing in the vestibule outside the garden where the ceremony would take place. (Well, she was standing. I was sitting.)
I regarded her with concern. “How are you doing?”
She turned to me nervously. “Fine. Totally F-I-N-E.”
I flashed her a lopsided smile. “It’s OK to be nervous, you know.”
She shook her head at me. “I’m not nervous. I don’t get nervous. EVER.” She paused slightly before saying, “Do I look all right?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “You. Look. Gorgeous.” I had already told her this at least twenty times. I genuinely meant it the first ten times, but after that, not so much. It is hard to have positive feelings for someone who’s annoying the crap out of you. (Once again, I blame the pregnancy hormones for my nastiness. But it could also be the fatigue, swelling and/or general achiness. Everything has gone downhill…)
Maya’s father, who had been watching the guests through the glass doors, signaled us and the other bridesmaids. “Time to go, girls.”
Maya took a deep breath. “OK, Dad.” She turned to her group of close friends. “Thank you for doing this. You’re each so special to me and I couldn’t have done all this without you.” She paused. (It appeared she was fighting back tears, but it just as easily could have been an adverse reaction to her atypical sentimentality.) “Now make me proud or there’ll be hell to pay!” I knew the real Maya was in there somewhere—nerves or not.
I gave her hand a final squeeze and took my place in line. When it was my turn, I began my walk very carefully, measuring each step as instructed by Maya, making sure to smile the entire way. I was pleased to see my dad had found Kate and Nick (Sam was spending the day with Sally and posse) and that Nigel and Grace were nearby. I would be tied up for quite some time with wedding party photographs and I felt better knowing my father was in good company. (Louis, of course, would be with me for the duration as my attendant.)
As I reached the end of the aisle, I nearly let out a yelp of surprise. Resting in the spot where the matron of honor should stand was, I kid you not, a bedazzled wheelchair. A BEDAZZLED wheelchair! Leave it to Maya to find such a distinctive item. She had managed to observe my doctor’s orders in style. With the help of Amy, one of Maya’s bridesmaids, I carefully sat down in my glittering throne.
Maya’s walk down the aisle was truly magical. Her entrance was met with a series of gasps, no doubt from those who weren’t aware of the extent of her beauty. It took everything I had not to cry. (The only sight worse than an enormous pregnant woman in a bedazzled wheelchair was a blubbering, red-faced enormous pregnant woman in a bedazzled wheelchair.)
Beyond her obvious physical beauty, there was something radiant in Maya’s expression. I hadn’t seen her this happy in all the years I had known her. I turned to Devon to find his face perfectly mirroring her elation. As he watched his bride approach him, his expression was so euphoric it almost put me over the edge into Blubberville.
The ceremony was everything the happy couple had hoped for: tasteful and romantic (Devon’s requirements) as well as short and entertaining (Maya’s requirements). There was only one minor problem. At the exact moment Maya was about to say “I do,” Luc gave me a swift kick to the stomach and forced out the most enormous belch I have ever heard. (Even more enormous than the notorious seltzer burps!) My hands instinctively flew to my face, causing me to drop both my and Maya’s bouquets to the floor. The puddle of flowers at the bride’s feet were not well received in the least.
My father, of course, found this absurdly funny and proceeded to laugh hysterically at top volume. A good portion of the wedding guests, Simone and Nigel included, joined in and it took a few minutes to bring everyone’s attention back to the ceremony.
My embarrassment, however, was immeasurable and my face quickly became the color of my dress. Such a gaffe in front of an audience of two hundred (when I already felt like an elephant in a red dress) was more than my hormonally unstable self could handle. My heart was in the pit of my stomach. Maya was never going to forgive me for ruining her special day. With nowhere else to hide, I shrank into my wheelchair and let the shame overtake me.
Once the recessional started, Louis discreetly came behind me and wheeled me down the aisle. “Are you OK?” he whispered.
“No,” I whispered back. “Luc kicked me a little too hard.”
Louis snorted.
I glared at him. “Do. Not. Laugh.” His lip twitched. “There are NO words to describe my mortification.”
He bit his lip and wheeled me out to the lobby. After my father arrived, Louis excused himself to use the restroom. Evidently, he was more in need of a private place to laugh his ass off. As long as I didn’t have to witness the act, I would be fine.
My father kissed my forehead. “You look gorgeous, Duck.”
I smiled ruefully. “Thanks, Dad. You look pretty dapper yourself.” I hugged him gently, making sure not to wrinkle his tuxedo.
He pulled out of the hug and gazed down at me. “Nice performance, Duck. It’s too bad you didn’t have better acoustics.” I winced. I knew my father was only warming up. This was going to be a very long night.
Next up was Nigel who winked at me and said, “Hey, Syd! You cracked off quite a whopper in there, didn’t you? You’ve got real talent.”
The more people I greeted, the more humiliated I became and, therefore, the crankier I became. After the tenth comment from a passing wedding guest, I begged my dad to wheel me to the bathroom. I was determined to hide out until Maya needed me for pictures. If it wouldn’t have embarrassed her further, I would have been content to spend the remainder of the wedding camped out in the ladies lounge. There were plush couches, along with TVs and toilets (separated by a large distance, thankfully), and Kate could bring me sustenance. What else did I need?
After I had put the finishing touches on my staying-in-the-bathroom-for-the-duration plan, Maya flounced in with a vengeful expression.
My lip quivered. “I’m so incredibly sorry. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”
She stared me down. “Sydney Julia Durand! Do you think I’m angry with you?”
It was my turn to stare. “Why wouldn’t you be? What I did was…was…atrocious!”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Did you belch on purpose?”
My eyes widened. “Of course not! I’m ashamed! Embarrassed! Horrified! And a little sick…”
“Exactly my point, Syd.” She sighed. “I know you feel like hell, and you should be in bed, but instead you worked very hard to be here. That means the world to me.”
Tears started pooling in my eyes. “You mean the world to me too.” My voice cracked and the sobs started.
Maya got up and squatted in front of me, which is quite an accomplishment in a gigantic ball gown. “Listen to me. I was starting to freak out up there and when you, um, expelled that bit of gas, you made me laugh. You brought me out of my worry and I was able to SMILE while saying ‘I do’.” She squeezed my hand. “You saved the day with a touch of, shall we say, accidental comic relief?”
&n
bsp; I held my head in my hands. “I’ll be remembered for this…expulsion FOREVER.”
She giggled. “Yeah, I may as well tell you this now. My cousin Robbie put the video up on YouTube. It’s already gotten ten thousand hits.”
I stared at her in horror.
My reaction only made her laugh harder. “Relax, Syd. You always wanted to be famous.”
I exhaled slowly. “You were the one who always wanted to be famous.”
She snorted. “And now I will be! I’m in the background of the video, looking fabulous.” Cue a further giggle explosion.
Even better! I’ll forever be known as the Jabba the Hutt-like matron of honor who ruined her best friend’s beautiful wedding ceremony. Perhaps I could do the talk show circuit, regaling America with my stories of uncouth behavior.
Once Maya was able to control her laughter, she stood up and gave me a once-over. “Are you ready to face the masses? Because if you think I’m going to allow my best friend and MATRON OF HONOR to spend the reception hiding in the bathroom, you have another thing coming.”
I pleaded with her using my best puppy dog eyes, but she wouldn’t budge. She quite rudely removed the brake on my wheelchair and pushed me out into the reception area, where we were swarmed by cell phone toting guests eager to snap a photo of the bride and her gassy companion. I was smart enough to know these photos would end up going viral on every available social media channel—most likely coupled with a link to the popular video. I would never live this down. Ever.
Thankfully, Maya put a stop to the insanity ten minutes in, citing my health issues, but she was kind enough to give her guests a five minute warning to ensure maximum photo ops. She quickly wheeled me back to my husband and warned me to be ready for photos in thirty minutes. I saluted her as best I could and asked my husband to get me a glass of water. Nothing works up a thirst like good old-fashioned humiliation.
Two hours later, all requested wedding party photographs had been taken and dinner was in full swing. Louis had insisted on ordering me a special low-sodium (read: tasteless) meal from the caterers. I gazed longingly at his filet mignon, whipped potatoes and cheese infused spinach, hating him a little more with each bite. Was it wrong to want to stab your husband with a piece of cutlery?