This Was Not the Plan

by Cristina Alger

  She sighed. “Honestly, Charlie, the last time we went to a wedding, you made the whole thing pretty stressful. You worked the entire weekend. You practically missed the ceremony because you were stuck on a conference call. I ended up wandering around the hotel all afternoon with Caleb so that he wouldn’t bother you while you were working.”

  “I think I’ve apologized for that approximately four hundred and eighty-six times. We can go for four hundred and eighty-seven right now, though, if you think it would make a difference.”

  “I just want to relax. Really relax. I’m not sure you appreciate how much stress you bring into our household.”

  “What do you want from me, Mira? To quit my job? Last time I checked, we weren’t exactly a dual-income household.” The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. “I’m sorry,” I added quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Mira looked like I’d punched her in the gut. “It’s fine,” she whispered. “It’s true.”

  “No, it’s not fine. I’m really sorry.” I felt horrible. It had been, after all, my idea for her to stay home with Caleb. My salary belonged to both of us, I truly believed that. And yet, here I was, wielding it like a weapon.

  “It’s okay, Charlie. I just need a break.”

  “From me?” I frowned.

  “From life.”

  “So go to the wedding. Enjoy yourself. Sleep in. Go hiking. Caleb and I will be fine.”

  “But—”

  “I want you to go,” I heard myself saying, though of course I didn’t mean it.

  “What about your work?”

  “Zadie will help me.”

  Mira nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I really need this right now.”

  She went. I booked her the ticket, using my own miles. I even upgraded her to business class, just to make the point that I really did want her to go and have fun. Zadie watched Caleb. I spent most of the weekend at the office, pretending to work, but really wondering what Mira was doing, and if she was having a better time than she would have if I had been there.

  Mira didn’t answer her phone on Saturday. Instead, she sent me an e-mail saying that her cell had poor reception at the hotel and that she’d call me the following morning, when she was en route to the airport. When she finally did call, it felt as though a week had passed instead of merely forty-eight hours. I wondered if this was how she felt when I traveled for work, which was often.

  “How was it?” I said, trying to sound enthused.

  “Amazing,” she said, and her voice was filled with light. “This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”

  “You must be sad to leave so soon.”

  “Not really,” she said. “I’m so happy to be coming back to my boys.”

  • • •

  She never did. It was the last time we spoke, just an hour before she boarded Flight 1173, bound for home.

  Rehearsal Drinks

  The minute I set foot in the tent, I panic.

  For one thing, I’m completely surrounded by couples. Touching, hugging, laughing, kissing couples. Even at the bar—which, in my opinion, should be a safe haven for singles—I’m wedged between newly engaged Gemma and Hugh and newly pregnant Charlotte and Mark. Both couples hug me hello and, for a few minutes, we all make a good-faith effort at small talk. Given that I’m an unemployed widower, this is no easy feat. At thirty-five years old, what else is there to talk about besides family and work? I share a few anecdotes about Caleb, then ask polite questions: “When are you getting married?” and “Oh, you just got tenured at Columbia? How exciting!” Good news is relayed to me with guilty eyes, self-deprecating jokes. No one likes to brag, especially not to me. And when conversation necessarily stalls, both couples slip away with assurances that they’ll catch up with me later.

  More importantly, I still have no idea what I’m going to say in my toast. I’m carrying around a blank index card, which I’ve sworn to myself will be filled by the time I walk into the wedding tomorrow night. I reach into my pocket, running my thumb nervously along its edges. I have to start drinking, and fast.

  I hang at the bar, swilling a vodka-soda and pretending to be busy. Every few minutes I check my BlackBerry. What I need, I’ve decided, is Elise. She’ll know exactly what I should say in my toast. I’ve called her twice today and sent her a text. Radio silence. I watch the door like a hawk, hoping she’ll miraculously appear, all smiles and hugs and funny stories about how she lost her phone and is so very sorry she hasn’t gotten back to me this week. As the steady stream of arrivals slows to a trickle, this becomes less and less likely. I turn back to the bar, feeling deflated.

  “You okay, man?” the bartender asks. He looks vaguely familiar, but through my slightly drunken haze I’m having trouble placing him. He’s one of Zadie’s friends from somewhere. Almost everyone at this wedding is, from the caterer to the waitresses to the guy officiating the ceremony. From the end of the bar, Madison tosses me a wave. It’s basically one large tent filled with people out of context.

  “Yeah,” I say, shrugging. I nudge my glass across the table. “One more, please.”

  He eyes me. “You sure? Zadie’s going to be mad at me if I get you too wasted.”

  I look up at him. “I quit my job today.”

  “Cheers.”

  “I don’t know. It seemed like the right idea at the time. But it’s entirely possible that it’s just another one of my massive miscalculations in judgment.”

  The bartender gives me a polite nod, which I choose to interpret as an invitation to keep talking.

  “I had a date. She’s supposed to be here by now. I’m starting to think she’s not coming.”

  He glances up, shoots me a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “That blows.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe she got stuck in traffic. It’s not easy to drive in rain like this.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe she’s somewhere in the crowd, and you just haven’t seen her yet. This place is jammed.”

  “It’s possible,” I say, feeling a small surge of hope. “But everyone ends up at the bar at some point, right? So I figure if I just hang here . . .”

  “Sooner or later she’ll turn up.” He nods. “That sounds like a good plan.” He reaches behind the bar, pulls out two shot glasses, fills them to the brim, and hands me one. “Don’t worry. She’ll be here. And don’t stress about the job. Life’s too short to waste it in a cubicle. You know?”

  “I do,” I say, and cough a little from the sharp taste of tequila.

  “Charlie!” I feel a big hand descend on my shoulder.

  I turn and find myself face-to-face with Moose. He’s sporting a seersucker suit and a bow tie that’s the same bright yellow shade as his knee-high rain boots. A dopey grin spreads across his face.

  “Aw, man, it’s good to see you,” he says, pulling me in for a hug.

  “Sweet boots, dude.”

  “Hey, if us Mainers know anything, it’s how to dress for inclement weather.”

  “Well, you look great.” He does, in fact, look great. He’s dropped a few pounds and, for once, his thick red hair is neatly groomed. He’s even got a light tan, a sign that he’s managed to escape the office recently, for a few hours at least. “You look well rested.”

  “I took the week off.” Moose shrugs, a little embarrassed. “I’ve been staying out in Montauk. Your sister’s wedding gave me a nice excuse to hit the Hamptons.”

  “Wow, you’re on vacation? That’s new for you.”

  “Yeah, first one since I started at Hardwick. It was Julie’s idea, actually.” Moose’s arm falls over the shoulder of a smiling brunette whom I’ve just noticed standing beside him.

  “Hey,” she says, and, to my surprise, embraces me. “It’s so nice to meet you, Charlie. Moose talks about you all the time.”

  I nod, too dumbstruck to respond. This girl is beautiful. She’s got big, almond-shaped eyes, full lips, a
decidedly cute nose. She slips an arm around Moose’s waist.

  Holy crap, she’s his girlfriend, I think. Moose has a girlfriend.

  “This is my girlfriend, Julie,” Moose says, grinning like an idiot. He turns to Julie. “I can call you that, right? That’s cool to say in public?”

  Julie giggles. “Of course it is, goofy,” she says, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

  “Wow,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

  They both turn to stare at me.

  “You okay, dude?” Moose asks, looking concerned.

  “I turned down the job,” I blurt out.

  Moose’s mouth drops open. “For real?”

  I shrug, feeling uncomfortable at his surprise. “For real. It just didn’t feel right, man. I didn’t want to go back to that life. Maybe it’s a mistake. I don’t know. I just think I need to cool my jets for a while. Maybe try yoga or something. Just learn how to be. You know?”

  Moose eyes me suspiciously. “Chuck, you been drinkin’?”

  “Maybe a little.” I hold up my thumb and pointer finger an inch apart. “A squinch. A scootch.”

  “Uh-oh. How many drinks have you had?”

  I look lazily at my watch. “A few. A few too many. I was just waiting on Elise, see—”

  “Jesus, Charlie.” Moose shakes his head. “We’ve been to this rodeo before.”

  “Izz not a rodeo. Izz a circus,” I say, laughing at my own joke.

  Moose and Julie exchange looks.

  “Okay,” he says, taking me by the elbow. “You and I are going to take a little walk.”

  “Bye, Charlie,” Julie says with a sympathetic wave. “See you boys later.”

  “She seemed nice,” I say as soon as Julie is out of earshot. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

  “Well, you’ve kind of had your plate full.”

  “I’m so happy for you, man. Seriously. Are you happy for you? ’Cause you don’t look so happy right this second.”

  “I’m happy about Julie,” Moose says through gritted teeth. “I’m not happy that you’re wasted right now.”

  “I’m not wasted.”

  “Yes, Chuck, you are. You’re wasted.”

  I hold up my hands. “Okay. Maybe I am. Guilty as charged, Counselor.”

  “You need to sober up, and fast. We’re not going to have a repeat of the Hardwick summer associate welcome party. Not on my watch.” He pauses at the door of the tent, looks up at the angry gray sky. “You ready to make a run for it?”

  Fifteen minutes later I’m feeling more clear-headed, thanks to a quick run in the rain and the pot of black coffee that Moose brewed for me in the kitchen.

  “Okay,” I say, setting my mug down on the counter. “I feel good. I’m ready.”

  Moose crosses his arms, enforcer-style. “Finish it,” he says, nodding at the mug. “And then we shower.”

  “I don’t have time to shower, Moose.”

  “You’re right, you don’t. But you’re going to do it anyway, so make it snappy.”

  “Sheesh,” I mutter, taking a swig. “Tough crowd.”

  When the mug is empty, Moose marches me up the stairs.

  “Damn,” he says, pausing at the top. “This place is huge.”

  “Yep.”

  “Which room is yours?”

  I shrug. “None of them are mine. It’s not my house. But that one”—I point to the nearest door—“is where I’ve been sleeping.”

  “Swell,” Moose says, and pushes it open. “Oh, shit!” He turns back to me, his face suddenly a deep shade of crimson.

  I peer inside. Sitting on the bed are Zadie and Buck.

  “Whoa,” I say, covering my eyes.

  “We’re clothed, you idiots,” Zadie says.

  “Charlie just needs to—uh—freshen up. Sorry.”

  “You can come in. Just shut the door behind you, please.”

  “We’ll just grab a shirt and be on our way.”

  The door clicks closed. I blink, adjusting to the dark room. As promised, Zadie and Buck are fully clothed. In fact, they’re now sitting apart, Zadie on the bed, Buck on an armchair across from her.

  Zadie’s bright pink lipstick practically glows in the dark. Her mascara has run down her cheeks in angry black streaks. It takes me half a second to realize that she’s crying. She tries to wipe her eyes quickly with the back of her hand, but it only exacerbates the mascara situation.

  “You okay, Z.?” I say, sitting down beside her.

  “I’ve been better,” she says, staring at the floor.

  “What’s going on?”

  When Zadie doesn’t respond, I look up at Buck. He shrugs, wide-eyed.

  “I think we’re just having some pre-wedding jitters,” he says in a soothing voice. “Right, sweetie?”

  “This is not pre-wedding, Buck.” My sister shoots him an icy look. “This is our wedding. This is it. It’s happening right now. And it’s all a big disaster.” With a sob, she buries her face in her hands.

  “Hey, now.” I attempt to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away. “It’s not a disaster! What are you talking about? We just came from the party and everyone’s having a great time!”

  “No, they’re not.” Zadie’s voice comes out muffled. “It’s pouring rain. There’s not enough food. The music is coming from an iPod. We didn’t even have invitations!”

  “But that’s fun, right? Wasn’t that what you wanted? A fun, spontaneous wedding?”

  Zadie looks up and glares at me. With her rumpled reddish hair and crazy eyes, she looks about as sane as Chuckie.

  “I wanted it to feel spontaneous,” she says, “not actually be spontaneous.”

  “What?” Buck and Moose both cock their heads in unison.

  “Forget it!” she wails. “You’re guys. You don’t understand.”

  “But we want to!” Buck says, dropping to his knees in front of her. He takes her hand and kisses it. “Please, princess. Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it.”

  “I’m not a princess!” Zadie roars. Buck jumps back into his seat. “And I don’t want you to fix anything! Jesus Christ! What century do you people live in? Have you heard of feminism? I’m not looking for some knight in white shining armor to sweep in and save me! What is it with you men? Why does there always need to be a solution to everything? Can’t you just shut up and listen to me vent for once?” She covers her face with her hands and dissolves into a fresh wave of tears.

  No sudden movements, Moose mouths to me, and I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

  “I just feel like it’s all happening so fast!” she cries. “I wish I’d had more time to plan. I’m no good at this, Charlie. I’m no good. Look at that!” She gestures in the direction of the window. “Look at that tent! It’s gorgeous! Have you been inside? It’s incredible!”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “No! I didn’t do any of it! If it wasn’t for Buck, there’d be no flowers. If it weren’t for Dad, there’d be no tent, no food, nothing. I didn’t do anything. I’m useless! How am I going to be a mom if I can’t even plan a wedding?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moose’s mouth drop open.

  “I’m sorry,” I say slowly. “Did you just say you’re going to be a mom?”

  Zadie clamps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes go wide.

  “Ah, jeez,” Buck says quietly.

  “Zadie, are you pregnant?”

  Zadie looks at Buck, who gives her a slight nod.

  “Mm-hmm,” she whispers. “You’re not mad, are you, Charlie?”

  “Mad!” I say, sweeping her into my arms. “Are you insane? This is the best news ever! Oh my God! Buck, get in here!” I wave him into our hug. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

  I’m grinning so wide my cheeks are hurting. It feels like fireworks are going off inside my heart. Zadie begins to laugh and then nestles her head tight against my shoulder. I can feel Buck’s tears
, wet and hot, drip against my neck. Ordinarily I’d roll my eyes at Buck’s tears, but right now, I’ve got nothing but love for the guy.

  “This is so cool of you, man,” Buck says, openly weeping. “See, Z.? I told you he’d be cool with it. We were going to wait to tell people, you know, until after the wedding. But I’m so glad we told you now.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be cool with it?” I say, withdrawing from the hug.

  “I just thought . . .” Zadie trails off.

  “You thought what?”

  “I thought you’d think I was going to be a bad mom.” Her eyes well up again with a fresh set of tears. “I mean, I think I’m going to be a bad mom. I’ve never done anything right in my entire life. The longest I ever kept a job was being a barmaid at Medieval Times, and that lasted eleven months!”

  “Well, pregnancy’s only nine, so . . .”

  “Charlie, I’m being serious! I’m a screwup. I’m not like you. I’m not ready for this.”

  “Zadie.” I put my finger beneath her chin and tilt it up so that she’s looking me in the eye. “Listen to me. You’re going to be an incredible mom.”

  “Really?” she whispers.

  “Yes. You’re warm and loving and openhearted and kind. You wake up happy every single day. You always look on the bright side and you choose to see the good in everyone. You’re endlessly creative and can have fun anywhere, with anyone, at any time. You truly believe that family should always have your back, and that no matter what, everyone deserves a second, a third, and maybe a fourth chance. You know that time is precious and that you can’t waste a single minute of it trying to be someone you’re not. You actually have ‘Love is the answer’ tattooed over your heart—and guess what? You’re right. It is.”

  My voice is wavering, but I forge on. “This is why you’re going to make such an incredible mom, Zadie. These are the lessons that most of us will struggle our whole lives to learn. Hell, I’m still struggling with all of them. But I have a leg up because I have you as a teacher. And whoever’s in there”—I point to her stomach—“he or she will, too. And, damn, we’re lucky. I am so very lucky and proud and grateful to have you as my sister.”

  “Oh, Charlie,” Zadie sighs, and throws her arms around my neck. “You really feel that way?”