Trying the Knot

by Todd Erickson

  The lights beamed brightly inside the cozy, rosy smelling boutique, and they warmed him like a toaster oven set on low. Against the sapphire blue sky, Alexa Feldpausch squinted and shifted uncomfortably on a little red stool. Although her tangled hair hung past her shoulders, she looked especially lean and unfeminine in the gaudy bridesmaid gown. She looked like a skater punk dressed in drag about to burst into tears.

  “I’m a pink cow,” she protested. Under her breath, she cursed the person responsible for her predicament.

  The round little Polish seamstress’ fingers fumbled with the excess material around Alexa’s hipless midsection. Although her mouth clamped onto several pins, the woman managed groans of sympathy as she inspected the tall girl’s less than perfect body. The tight, strapless bodice gave way to a full skirt, which would have accentuated Evangelica’s hourglass figure, but it simply hung limply on Alexa and rendered her shoulders more broad than usual.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Alexa said. “It was a bad idea for me to stand in for Vange. Jesus Christ, she’s got the body of Marilyn Monroe, and I’m built like –

  “A quarterback? Watch your mouth.”

  “Oh, eat shit and die, Thaddeus,” Alexa mumbled, and the round grandmother lost a few pins. Alexa jumped off the stool and gazed out at the desolate street. “This sucks! Tell Kate to find someone else to stand up in her stupid wedding.”

  “You don’t look half bad,” he lied. “Honest.”

  “I look like total shit. What’s this hot neon pink color called, anyway – Cap’n Crunch Berry? Didn’t Kate get the memo, neon is so out.”

  “It’s fuchsia, dear,” Mrs. Rotundowski said gently, and she placed a comforting hand on Alexa’s shoulder. “It’s quite a popular color these days. Trust me, we’ll make it work. After a few nips here and tucks there and there, this dress will feel custom made. You don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  “Except I look like a big ugly float,” Alexa said with resignation. With the help of Rotundowski, she sadly resumed her elevated roost on the stool. “Doesn’t Kate realize big tacky weddings are so five years ago? Christ, this is the Nineties, Dynasty went off the air ages ago.”

  “It’s only for one day,” Thad said, trying to sound sympathetic because she really did look awful. “What about shoes? Have you tried on Vange’s heels?”

  Alexa smoothed the dress flat against her and looked down at her own exposed bare feet, which looked all of their size nine. The hem ended at the middle of her calves. The three of them shuddered at the thought of her feet stuffed into high heels. She exhaled deeply, which caused her curly bangs to bounce off her jutting cheekbones. It looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

  “How can we hide them?” Alexa asked while wiggling her toes.

  “With the length of this dress and your height, I think you could get away with wearing tennis shoes,” said Mrs. Rotundowski. “No one will see your shoes with this full skirt.”

  “But it’s so short.”

  “Tea length for the junior bridesmaid,” Thad said.

  “I’m going to let out the bottom, and we’ll make it a smidgen too long.”

  Thad thought his sister looked a mess at best. He only hoped no one else noticed, but at that moment Jack sped by on his BMX bike.

  “Look, it’s your boyfriend,” Thad said, pointing out the window.

  “He’s our cousin, idiot,” she corrected.

  Seconds later, Jack made a U-turn in the middle of Main Street and passed by again. This time he pointed a lollipop at her and laughed hysterically. Prepared, she forcefully flipped him off. The hollow insult only served as an invitation for him to stop and further humiliate her.

  After parking his bike, he barged into the boutique with the lollipop dangling from his mouth. He exclaimed, “Dude, I can’t believe you’re actually going through with it!” He ignored the accusatory look Mrs. Rotundowski cast his way. By now he had grown accustomed to the accusatory stares judging him to be a killer prom date.

  “You look god-awful nasty.”

  “You don’t look so hot yourself,” she snarled. “Just shut up, Jerkoff, and be on your merry masturbatory way.”

  “Where you headed, Jack,” Thad asked.

  “Work,” the teenager answered, and he stuck his soggy sucker stick into a potted plant. In his t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, he looked tougher than necessary.

  “The high school dropout washes dishes for a living,” Alexa said as she tugged on her dress. “Not so tight, I don’t want to look like some butt ugly airhead asshole.”

  “Missy, you’ve got the mouth of a sailor,” Mrs. Rotundowski said aghast.

  “My name’s not Missy, and if it were I’d be the next one to kill myself,” Alexa said, pulling on the dress. “Then there’d be one more bridesmaid in a coma.”

  “Don’t mind Al, she’s been in a bad mood ever since puberty pushed her over the edge,” Thad explained. “Remember, pretty is as pretty does.” Then he asked Jack, “Are you going to the church rehearsal? There’s dinner at the lounge afterward.”

  “Just straight to the lounge. I got to work,” Jack said. He drifted nervously away because he was in no mood for yet another interrogation by one more well meaning adult who did not know anything about him or his life.

  “But your sister is getting married.”

  “My sister’s in a coma,” Jack said. Seeing a monster truck speed past, he stopped dead in his tracks and his face flushed in terror. He ran his hand through his chin-length blond hair and said shakily, “Holy shit.”

  “We’ll have none of that talk in here, mister,” said Rotundowski, who still eyed him with contempt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing,” Jack whispered, obviously scared to death. Once out the door, he checked to see if the coast was clear. Only then did he mount his bike while tossing his bangs from his comically cherubic face, and he sped off as quickly as he had appeared.

  “What was that all about?”

  “The Czerwinski Twins are in town on leave from the Army,” Alexa shrugged. “Jack thinks they want to kick his ass, because of the accident.”

  The seamstress stood back and inspected her work. “It’s a real tragedy about the Czerwinski girl. It’s also so sad about Vangie Whiley. Such beautiful girls.”

  “Yes,” Thad agreed.

  “Vangie and her mamma used to live next to me in the trailer park. I’d watch her playing outside and, I’ll tell you what, I don’t care who she was from home – even if her daddy did kill himself and her mamma’s a floozy – she was going places one day. There was just no stopping her,” Rotundowski said remembering fondly.

  Nodding in the direction of the far wall, she said, “There’s a picture of her modeling a dress from way back when she sang in the Miss Portnorth pageant.”

  Alexa stared admiringly at the large portrait and the sophisticated black formal gown, which made Evangelica look like a movie star. Her sleek auburn hair framed her face, and her wide heart shaped mouth was painted matte red. Voluptuous and beautiful, her eyes glimmered knowingly, like two uncut diamonds. That look in her eye was probably what garnished her the talent award and cost her the crown.

  Until earlier that spring, Alexa had never really spent much time with Evangelica. It was not until Vange volunteered to help her prepare for the prom that Alexa actually took the time to get to know her. Alexa was clueless regarding formal wear, makeup, and manners. The only reason Alexa agreed to attend the prom at all was because Jack begged her to double date with him and Jules Czerwinski. Jules was a popular cheerleader and a secret Skoal Squaw member, which was a sort of teen girl Mafia. They were the classic coupling of the virgin and the rebel – Jules being the rebel and Jack the virgin, despite all appearances to the contrary. They were an odd couple, and their pairing for the prom had a similar effect as the Michael Jackson and Madonna match-up for the Oscars, a freak show on parade.

  A few weeks prior to the prom, Vange took
Alexa downstate to find the perfect dress, accessories and cosmetics. Evangelica assured Alexa that the spaced-out electric blue number was the dramatic statement she was looking for. Vange also curled Alexa’s dark hair into a flip and gave her cat eyes. Alexa was ordinarily repulsed by such feminine preoccupations, but Evangelica had made them fun; moreover, she made Alexa so obnoxiously beautiful she could not help but get swept up in the moment. Vange even gave her strategic tips about what food not to order, how to walk, when to go to the powder room, and what dopey one-liners to listen for, in case her jock date intended to get fresh with her.

  Vange advised, “If he tries to score and won’t take no for an answer, just knee him in the balls or give him a hand job. Take your pick.”

  Evangelica’s excited enthusiasm was the inspiration Alexa needed to enjoy the ridiculously inane rite of passage, prom. Vange snapped a zillion pictures all over town of Jack, Jules, Alexa, and Jocko posing dramatically and foolish. Her infectious laughter encouraged the foursome into making fools of themselves and mug for the camera.

  Alexa had wanted her mentor to join them and record their swanky out-of-town dinner, but Jack vetoed the idea because he was trying to impress Jules, who had secured her mother’s new Mary Kay pink Cadillac for the evening. The ordinarily gorgeous golden girl, Jules Czerwinski, looked beautiful in her prissy pink ensemble, but Alexa was able to parade around proud as a peacock because Vange successfully transformed the ordinarily outdoorsy frump into a stunning, otherworldly goddess.

  The dinner digressed in a fit of guffaws as Alexa and Jack tried to outdo one another’s obnoxious behavior. They managed to be inconspicuous enough to entertain without drawing undue attention. Alexa seized every opportunity to utilize the tips Evangelica had taught her. On the way to and from the restaurant, they listened to the unique compilation tape Vange had made for them full of drippy romantic standards. All the while, Alexa’s date filled her with tremulous excitement by merely touching her gloved hand.

  Inside the gaudily decorated school gymnasium, Alexa made fun of the hicks who wore high-top sneakers with their tuxedo tails and sparkly cummerbunds. She also laughed at the girls, in their pseudo-Victorian gowns sporting ratted up bangs that cascaded into hairspray-shellacked fuck-handles. Alexa only danced to fast songs once her date insisted on mauling her to the beat of every sickening Top-Forty love ballad.

  “Missing Link” as she later dubbed him, proved to be more of a Neanderthal than she originally feared, and he ended up storming away with one of the Skoal Squaws. When he asked Alexa, “So, are you gonna blow me tonight, or will I have to pull out my Willie, and use it Kennedy-style on you?” she introduced his face to her fist and raised her knee to his balls just like Vange taught her.

  Mortified, Jack ushered Jules and his featherweight champion cousin out the door as the King and Queen were announced, and they left Jocko doubled over with a cold compress between his thighs. The reigning ‘gruesome twosome’ had been dating since the dawn of junior high, and they were tentatively planning a summer wedding after graduation. They were on the fast track to domestic obscurity.

  After prom, they skipped the All-Night-Bowl-A-Thon-and-On and planned to watch horror flicks at Ben’s house until dawn. Ben promised to let them smoke a little pot, and Vange offered to cook a mammoth breakfast. But the Promsters never made it back to the Dooley house.

  On a lonesome country road, a deer collided with the now permanently parked pink Cadillac. There, the vehicle sat drenched in blood, where Jules died, the emergency responders came, and Jack ran insanely into the woods shedding his bloody tuxedo. Alexa and Jules were rushed to the hospital in ambulances, and a manhunt was issued for Jack. He was found naked wandering along a dirt road early the next morning. He was taken into custody the county jailhouse before being carted off to the nut-hut for a spin in the bin. For Alexa, the hospital was more horrifying than the accident. Her enraged mother stormed tipsily into the emergency room while her father was unsuccessful in subduing her hurling accusations. Jane Feldpausch claimed every horrible thing was Ed Hesse’s fault for marrying the town tramp Shayla Whiley.

  After having slugged down a fifth of scotch, Jack’s dad was beyond inebriated. He blathered endlessly about the dangers of drinking and driving. But they had been sober as they had not drunk a drop of alcohol. Shayla hurled insults back at Alexa’s mother and encouraged the police to throw that crazy Feldpausch bitch’s ass in the slammer.

  Thad bounced hopelessly between the parents and Jack, who was being given a hard time by the police. The injuries Jules sustained made it impossible for her to be behind the wheel, and the police were reluctant to let Jack off the hook. It was not until his statement received corroboration from the backseat witness that they dropped their investigation, and it was determined he was not responsible for the unfortunate demise of his prom date.

  Jules’ parents sat crumpled in a sobbing pile off to the side. Nyda-the-Living-Dead prayed while her husband railed against the injustice of it all. Earlier in their backyard, Jack whispered to Alexa that the Czerwinskis were swingers, and now she wondered if it were true. Under the florescent lights on a hospital gurney, Alexa spent an eternity in a trance, watching the events of the evening unfold as if she were a camcorder obtaining footage for a tragically bizarre reality TV show.

  When Evangelica arrived with Ben, her steady gaze of sympathetic reassurance was all Alexa needed to emerge from her state of shock. When a half-naked Jack was put into a straightjacket and taken away for further treatment, Alexa buried herself in Vange’s soft awaiting breasts and bawled like a baby.

  “It should’ve been you!” Nyda screamed. Mascara ran between the cracks of her hallow, tear stained cheeks, making her look like Alice Cooper. “You’re the one who should be sprawled out in a morgue!”

  Feeling as if someone had kicked her in the gut, Alexa nearly fell over. Evangelica gathered her close, buried her face in her chest and led her down the hallway as Nyda screamed after them, “It’s you, you’re the one who should be dead, you whore of Babylon!”

  “It’s me,” Evangelica whispered in Alexa’s ear as she guided her toward the exit. “Don’t pay any attention to her, it’s me she’s talking about. I’m the one who should be dead. It’s me.”

  Vange took Alexa home, tucked her into bed and wept alongside her. Vange was still there the next afternoon when Alexa awoke screaming in terror. She often had periodic nightmares of headlights reflecting off glassy deer eyes, followed by its mangy carcass sprawled across the red splattered car hood. Alexa was haunted by the image of Jack running wildly into the woods while ridding himself of the blood-drenched tuxedo. Her horrific dreams always ended with garish headlights fixed on Jules, with her pretty pink gown bathed in heaving crimson. They had sat with her trying not to touch her caved in chest or bashed in, bloodied forehead.

  Even now, Alexa awoke to the sounds of gurgling gasps as Jule’s lungs filled with blood. But the morning after the accident, it was Vange who held onto her tightly and soothed the pain of the memories of the night before. It sounded corny, but the night of the accident, Alexa fell asleep thinking Evangelica was an angel sent from heaven.

  Mrs. Rotundowski’s distant voice sounded in Alexa’s ears. “Honey, you got to turn and face the window, please.”

  Alexa sniffled and obeyed without protest.

  “It’s a shame about Jack’s mamma. I knew Kaye Hesse real well, and you couldn’t find a finer lady. She was a saint, pure and simple.” The small round woman jabbered on. “I even bought a few of her crystal bowls and a pair of shoes at a garage sale once. I says to Shayla, These shoes here look brand new. And she goes, who knows, all this junk belonged to Kaye.” She shook her head. “Can you even imagine such a thing, selling your new husband’s dead wife’s personal things in a garage sale, for pennies no less? Whenever I wear them shoes, or use the bowl, I think of Kaye and what a wonderful lady she was. A real good woman.”

  “She’s our aunt,” Alexa said softly.
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br />   “I know, hun,” Mrs. Rotundowski said. She pierced the dress with one last pin and smacked Alexa on the behind. “That’ll do yah. I’ll finish this up and drop it by your mom’s house later tonight.”

  “Thank you, so much,” Thad said as Alexa jumped from the stool and retreated into the dressing room. Thad called out, “We can get ice cream on the way home, Al, if you want.”

  Her voice dripped with sarcasm, “My reward for being a good little girl?”

  “Well, if you insist, we can pretend you’re still little and a girl, but after seeing you in that dress we both know otherwise,” Thad said. He picked up the formal gown, which she hurled out onto the floor.

  Freed from the tacky taffeta confines, she emerged from behind the curtain wearing denim cutoffs and a sleeveless flannel shirt. She bounded toward her brother and planted a kiss on his cheek before twisting his right nipple extra hard for insinuating she was anything less than the epitome of petite feminine grace.

  She beamed. “You’re too kind, big brother.”

  “And you’re a cow even now,” he said, and he poked her hip-less middle while rubbing his sore chest. Alexa made a fist and threatened to knock his lights out as she aimed it at his jaw. Rather than knocking his block off, she mussed up his hair.

  “So butch.”

  “Shut up, queer-bait,” she snarled.

  They walked toward the beach and avoided the barren main street, which was as neglected and coarse as any other forgotten Northern Michigan mining town. Unlike Alexa, Thad hated drawing attention to himself, and he considered cruising Main making a virtual spectacle. Once their mother caught Alexa walking along the main drag with a Mountain Dew bottle in hand, and Jane Feldpausch yanked her into the family station wagon by the hair.

  As they approached the cemetery, Thad’s attention drifted from Alexa’s ceaseless blathering about the wedding and her upcoming senior year to the decorated tombstone before them. Blue streamers and black balloons fluttered in the wind with morbid festivity.