The Wedding Season

by Kayley Loring

  “That’s great, Scott…What about your dad?”

  “Well. I think just hearing from my brother and mom that it’s good is enough for him.”

  “I’m really happy for you.” I’m surprised by how happy I am for him, in fact. I’m really, a lot happy for him. As happy as I would be for Maya, or myself.

  “It never would have happened if you hadn’t said that to Carter.”

  “Oh I’m sure it would have eventually.”

  “No. It was all because of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. So I guess you won’t be applying to law school this year.”

  “No but I have an idea for a legal horror script called Bite Me, Carter.”

  “I would buy a ticket to that.”

  “Oh, I’d comp you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I write down cooter and see that he has just written down the same thing. We laugh. He tears up his card and writes on another one: flaming lips.

  Yep. I’ve got those. Moist ones. Right now. And you’re not even touching me.

  “These terms are a tad biased,” I say. I write out baloney pony on a card and hold it up.

  “Adorable,” he says. Skin flute goes on a card.

  “Good one.” I write down foreskin and hold it up, scrunching up my face. “Yay or nay?”

  “Um. I’m giving that one a thumbs down. We need more sex positions.”

  We both write 69.

  I tear up my 69 card, take a deep breath, and start to say something once again, but I hear Maya say from the other room: “Oh is this the guessing game? Do you have tea-bagging yet? My mom loves that one. The term, I mean.”

  I immediately write down tea-bagging.

  “I can’t wait to meet your mom,” Scott says, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Hey Braddock! Aw, it’s good to see you. You’ve been getting some sun.”

  He gets up to hug her and they have a long, warm embrace. This is the first time I’ve seen them together in a while. They have clearly bonded.

  “I need to borrow Duffy for a minute.”

  “She’s all yours. I can snowplow through the rest of these myself.”

  “Ahhhh haaaaaahhhhh!” Maya takes my hand and leads me away, to my room. “You guys are so cute together,” she whispers, a little too loud, in my opinion.

  “Shhh! We aren’t together.”

  “You were seated at a table together. Calm down.”

  “How’s the venue looking?”

  “Almost done, the girls are finishing up. It looks beautiful.”

  We enter my room. I swear I can smell pepperoni, even though I stuffed my driving clothes deep inside a plastic bag and stuck that in my weekender bag. But I may be hypersensitive.

  “Oh God. Did you eat pepperoni in here?”

  “I’m disgusting.” She is hypersensitive too, due to hormones.

  “I’m sure no one else can smell it. I smell everything now. Even love.”

  “Oh shut up. How do you feel?”

  “Good. I’m excited. Sam is so cute. He keeps crying.”

  “Oh. He’s so sweet.” I get a gift for Maya out of my bag.

  “Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “Please. This is your bachelorette party gift. Imagine we’re in Vegas, at a male strip club.”

  “It’s how I always imagine us.” She unwraps the gift and pulls out the maternity lingerie. There’s a sexy lace-trimmed cotton nightie that’s also for nursing, as well as maternity pajamas that have dragons all over and it says Mother of Dragons. “Oh my God.”

  “How cool would it be if you give birth to dragons?!”

  “Oh my God I’m gonna be a pregnant Daenerys for Halloween! Genius! I love them, thank you! So sweet.”

  She gives me an elegant little gold box with a silver ribbon and bow and wildflowers tucked into the ribbons. “This is so pretty I could shit.”

  “Thanks.”

  I open the box. In it, is a dainty rose gold necklace with a pendant of two intertwined open hearts. “It’s so pretty.”

  She takes the necklace out of the box and unhooks the clasp. “This is a promise to you, that I will still be available to you when I’m married and when I’m a mother. We will always be linked. You will always be my best friend, okay? Remember that. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t reach out to me if you need me.”

  Tears are squirting out of my eyes and snot is dripping from my nose. It has been that kind of day. I nod my head. “Thank you. I already miss having you around the apartment.”

  “I miss you too, I really do.” She goes behind me and puts the necklace around my neck. “But I want you to be half of your own romantic coupling too. I can see that your heart has opened up. It’s beautiful. You just need to be brave.”

  I nod, weeping and making weird snorting and hiccupping sounds.

  She rubs my back. “There’s really nothing to be afraid of. Can you imagine how great it would be? Will be. The four of us hanging out all the time? We’ll be our kids’ godparents!”

  “Okay okay one step at a time. I can’t even get up the nerve to tell him how I feel.”

  “Well. No rush. But if you could do it this weekend that would be perfect. No pressure.”

  I cover my face.

  “Sorry. I’ll let you pull yourself together. Do you have Kleenex in here?”

  I nod. “I stopped to get some on the way up here.” When I bought pepperoni and donuts.

  She kisses me on the cheek and hugs me. “See ya out there.”

  The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur—figuratively and literally, because I have tears in my eyes most of the time. I keep touching my open hearts pendant and envisioning me and Scott and Maya and Sam hanging out as we all grow old together. But it never seems to be the right time to talk to Scott in private—what with the eating of the delicious food that I helped to prepare, and the bear hugs from massive, beautiful Bermudian men, the sober Scotsmen who still act pretty drunk, dancing and singing traditional Scottish folk songs, the hipster singer-songwriter guy that Sam produces music for, who sings a song he wrote just for Sam and Maya, and Maya’s gorgeous sixty year-old half-Chinese mother going around with the word cock ring on her back, asking people: “Am I a blowjob?” “Am I a cocksucker?” “Am I a Dirty Sanchez?”

  Even when Scott helps me wash dishes at the end of the night, we are never alone. Heather and her team are around. We don’t even talk at that point, because it’s so entertaining to listen to Heather bark orders and curse like a marine. It’s comfortable, and probably the most domestic-type thing we’ve ever done together. I like it. And it makes my armpits damp because I want to tell him I love him. I try to let him know telepathically, at one point. He does look over at me, quizzically, and I wonder if it worked.

  “Are you trying to hold in a fart?” he says, grinning.

  “What? No! Shut up!”

  “You shut up.”

  “Oh my God.” We’re done with the dishes. I wipe my hands on a towel. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

  “Me too. I’ll walk you to your room and then get back to the house.”

  We tiptoe down the hall past Maya’s room. She went to bed at ten-thirty, which was pretty late for the little pregnant lady. He follows me. I open the door to my room. He stands a couple of feet away from me, his hands on his hips.

  “You’re a good maid of honor,” he says, in a hushed voice.

  “Thanks. You’re a good best man.”

  “Thanks. See you in the morning.”

  He hugs me. He is a good hugger. It’s a long, warm, friendly hug. “Not if I see you first,” I say, instead of “By the way, I love you.”

  He pulls away from me and stares down at me, like he really wants to say something. I brace myself. Is he going to say it first?

  He takes in a breath, then says: “Are you hiding pepperoni in there?”

  I punch him in the arm. Shit. “No! Shut up. Good night.”

 
“You shut up.”

  “You complete…ly annoy me.”

  He smiles and pats me on the head. “Right back at ya, buddy.” He walks away. “You had me at ‘shut up.’”

  I go inside my room and shut the door and cover my face with my hands.

  “Buddy?!”

  We’re buddies now? I stomp around the room. Have I misinterpreted everything about the way he’s been looking at me today? What is happening?! Why can’t I just tell him I love him and get this thing back on track? Or maybe we got off track when we were in New York? Or the first time we made out in that bathroom?

  Gah!

  I collapse on my back on the bed, kick my feet into the air. Whichever track we’re supposed to be on, I just wish I could get us on it! Why is this so hard for me? How can it be so easy for other people to marry their co-workers or marry someone who’s the same sex as them or marry someone that they moved to England to meet or marry someone that they just met a few months ago and are having a baby with?

  Maybe I’m only meant to be married to my work.

  Maybe I was put on this earth to write about other people’s relationships.

  Maybe that’s not such a bad thing?

  Chapter 23

  *Erin*

  There’s something about weddings that’s so life affirming and hope-filling. They can even soothe the most frightened and vulnerable open hearts. Especially when it’s the wedding of people you love and care about. I didn’t even stress out over the fact that I woke up this morning with indentations all over one side of my face from smushing it into a pillow, after finally getting to sleep in the wee small hours. It now seems like years ago that I was tossing and turning, my nostrils filled with the mild lingering scent of pepperoni, my head filled with paranoia about missed opportunities with Scott.

  I got up early to help Maya get dressed up, in her delicate subtly shimmery rose gold slip dress and slender silver halo that’s adorned with crystals, wildflowers and gardenias. Each of the bridesmaid dresses are slightly different in style, but all made from the same billowy blush fabric that was donated by one of Maya’s favorite teachers at FIDM. The men wear off-white slacks, jackets and shirts—no ties. It’s a good look.

  We had pictures taken in the National Park. First we did the ladies, and then there were the “First Look” pictures, when the guys brought Sam and he saw Maya for the first time in her bridal dress. His jaw actually dropped, right before he started weeping like a little boy who couldn’t believe he just got exactly what he’d asked for for Christmas. All of us women had to have our eye makeup touched up after that because OH MY GOD. So cute.

  Scott is wearing his glasses. I know him well enough to understand that it’s because he expected to cry today, and he doesn’t want his contact lenses to cloud up or get dislocated if he rubs his eyes. Knowing this—knowing that he knew he would cry while his best friend got married—makes me love him even more. Standing next to our best friends, while the minister said: “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” we stared at each other. We weren’t smiling, we weren’t solemn, we were both crying happy tears, because in our own small ways we made this happen, by introducing them. At least, I think that’s what we were both thinking.

  We’re under the big tent, surrounded by desert and hills and the setting sun, flowing gauzy magenta fabric, and so much glittering candlelight. It’s warm, no longer hot. It does sort of feel like we’re in Morocco, and it definitely feels like we’re at a wonderful party wherein two beloved people just happened to officially marry each other. It’s exactly what Maya and Sam wanted for the weekend.

  Scott and I are sitting next to each other at Table Number One, with the bride and groom and their parents. We’ve already consumed the salmon and chicken kebabs that I helped to skewer, and we’re eating the incredible layer cake that tastes even better than it looks. Maya and Sam’s parents and grandparents have all given their lovely little speeches, and now Sam is wrapping up his long, meandering, rhapsodic ode to all of the people he loves, most of all Maya. He thanks Scott for deciding to go to Emerson to study screenwriting, so Scott could meet me, and thanks me for being a great enough person for Maya to love and live with, and thanks our agents for getting married, so I could introduce her to him at their wedding.

  I see Maya lean back, make eye contact with Scott, and give him a look that says: make him stop! Scott gets up, hugs Sam, and takes the microphone away from him. “Okay, Champ, why don’t we take a little intermission from this beautiful journey down memory lane.” He signals for me to tap my water glass, and I do. Maya grabs Sam and kisses him, for the hundredth time this evening.

  “Hi, everyone,” Scott continues, into the mike. It is of no surprise to me that he’s a natural public speaker. “I’m Scott. I’ll keep this brief. What a relief that I no longer have to share my most embarrassing Sam story with everyone, because you all just witnessed it. And he isn’t even drunk!”

  There is laughter, and applause and cheering from the Scotsmen, who are allowed to drink champagne tonight.

  “I’m just kidding, Sammy, you’re adorable…I’m sure there are more than a few cynics out there who'd find it hard to believe that two people can meet, fall in love, get married and get pregnant (not necessarily in that order), without facing or creating any obstacles.” He looks directly at me. “But fuck the cynics. Obstacles are for love stories.” He looks back at Maya and Sam. “Your love is real. I don’t know if we choose who we love, but we do choose how we love. You both chose to love each other unabashedly and without limits from the moment you met and it’s inspiring to me and I think it’s safe to say that you’ve both inspired everyone here and we are all so lucky to be here to celebrate you and the amazing beautiful thing you’re bringing into this world together…”

  He pauses, to pull off his glasses and dab at his eyes with his fingers. He sniffles and laughs at himself.

  Everyone in the room with a pair of ovaries goes “awwww.” Even me.

  “Sorry. Let’s all raise our glasses again, to this gorgeous couple, and promise to be there for them and their spawn always. To Maya and Sam.”

  There’s a chorus of: “Maya and Sam!”

  Sam and Maya hug Scott, and then he hands the microphone to me.

  “Thanks a lot,” I mumble. I had been so preoccupied with Scott Thoughts that I didn’t even prepare a Maid of Honor speech. Normally, I would have prepped like I would for a pitch meeting. But it’s a good thing, because anything I would have written would have sounded like a phony monologue from the end of a bad rom com after that.

  I clear my throat and keep stroking the open hearts pendant of my necklace. “Well, that’s not an easy act to follow, but I will keep this very brief and to the point. Sam and Maya, I love you both, and this is my gift to you—other than the one I got off your registry. I think you’ll appreciate this even more than the juicer…” I turn to look at Scott and I say to him: “I’m in love with you, asshole. I love you, and if we can be even half as happy together as Maya and Sam are, then it will be worth putting up with you for the rest of my life or as long as I can.”

  I drop the mike, hearing laughter and applause, I hug Maya and Sam, who are laughing and crying, and then I go over to Scott. He has stood up and his face is as expressionless now as it was when I told him I loved him in front of all these people. I stand before him, waiting for a reaction. He grabs me, dips me, and says in my ear: “I’ve been in love with you since before I met you, you dumbass.” He kisses me, holding me in his arms, and I relax into it, trusting that he won’t drop me.

  Sam and Maya hoot and holler, and Sam calls out to the DJ to start up the music. Not one person hesitates to boogie on out to the dance floor.

  Somebody drops a champagne glass and it shatters on the ground. Scott immediately puts his arm out to stop me from stepping onto the dance floor barefoot.

  “Where are your shoes?”

  “I don’t know! I can’t remember when I took them off.”

 
“Get on my back. I don’t want you to cut yourself.”

  “Oh my God, I can just avoid that area—look someone’s cleaning it up.”

  “Get on my back, woman. Now.”

  I roll my eyes, hike up my dress and jump up onto his back. He carries me out like this, to join Maya and Sam and all of their beautiful friends and family, and we dance like this for half an hour until he has carried me all around the area and I find my shoes.

  He collapses into a chair while I slip my shoes on. “You are so much heavier than you look.”

  “You’re just weak from loving me so much.”

  “No way. It gives me strength. I feed on it.” He watches me for a moment, as I straighten myself up, then he pulls me onto his lap.

  “Move in with me.”

  “I can’t move in with you.”

  “Come on. You will eventually.”

  “Oh really.”

  “What’s the point of you moving to a smaller apartment or going through all the annoying shit you have to go through to find a new roommate, if you’re just going to shack up with me eventually anyway.”

  “One step at a time.”

  “But we’re going to be together all the time if we’re writing together.”

  “All the more reason we should have separate places to retreat to.”

  “I just don’t want you to waste money on rent if you don’t need to.”

  I put my hands on the sides of his face. “I appreciate it. I do. I’m sure it will happen eventually, but let’s not rush into it. I want this to work.”

  He relents. “Me too.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “For waiting for me.” I kiss him and then pull away. “We need to get back to writing soon. Keep the momentum going!”

  “It’s Joshua Tree weekend, take a break.”

  “I know, I know. But what should we write next? Another relationship-y horror movie?”

  “Something supernatural and more R-rated this time. The Lovely Boners.”

  “Your boners really are lovely and supernatural.”

  “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but thank you.”