Always the Bridesmaid

by Whitney Lyles

  “Well, I plan on losing ten pounds before the wedding,” Bethany said.

  Offra snorted. “I’ve heard that one before.”

  Bethany’s lip quivered, and she clenched her jaw as tears pooled in her eyes.

  Cate fantasized about telling Offra to fuck off. She imagined Offra being fired in front of everyone, her glasses becoming steamed as she cried her way out of the tulle-covered hellhole. This was intolerable. Cate was fuming, brainstorming ways to retaliate. Then she looked at Offra’s legs, veiny and blue. Cate noticed Leslie staring at them, too.

  “Oh wow, Offra!” Leslie said in her sweetest, kindest voice. “What happened? Are you all right? That looks painful.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  Everyone was listening.

  “Your legs.” Leslie pointed. “They’re all bruised. Are you okay?”

  Offra’s eyes darted to Leslie, then back to her measuring tape on Bethany’s hips. “They’re from having babies,” she said under her breath.

  Someone had actually fucked her?

  “What?” Leslie asked, cocking her head to the side, expressing mock concern. “I couldn’t hear you.”

  “They’re veins. They’re not bruises. It’s from being pregnant.”

  “Ohhhhhh. I see,” Leslie said. She looked at Cate from the corner of her eye, a smirk forming on her face.

  Offra didn’t say much after that.

  The saleslady returned and took the order, complete with all the measurements. “You know there is also a belt that goes with the outfit. It’s optional. But the tops tend to run a little large so you can tie the belt like a sash around the waist. Would you guys like to see?”

  Please. No sash.

  “Sure,” Leslie said. “Cate, why don’t you try on the sample suit since you’re the smallest. I think it will fit you.”

  “I’ll go get the belt,” the saleslady said.

  The pants dragged on the carpet when Cate came out of the dressing room, and she hated to admit it, but Offra had been right. She really didn’t have the bust to fill in the top.

  Making them wear pantsuits that would’ve been a hit in 1982 while Leslie wore a timeless, elegant gown seemed unfair. It also seemed very Leslie-ish.

  Cate thought of all the photos that Leslie had chosen to frame and hang on her walls. In each one Leslie looked her best, radiating with a ready-for-the-camera smile, not a blemish showing, not a hair out of place, and sporting the latest trend. However, all of her framed photos had captured her friends on bad hair days in the middle of winter after they’d just woken up or were on a verge of starting a diet. In one photo on Leslie’s mantel Cate actually had her eyes closed. She remembered pointing out that detail to Leslie.

  “Ha! I didn’t even notice when I framed the photo.”

  Yeah, just like she hadn’t noticed Sarah’s three chins or Bethany’s puckered face captured in midsentence. Of course she hadn’t noticed. She’d been too busy looking at herself!

  Cate sensed that she definitely wasn’t going to be outshined on her wedding day.

  The saleslady was shaking her head when she returned. “I’m sorry, but unfortunately I think we’ve lost the sample belt.”

  Yes! No belt.

  “But I can describe to you what it will look like. It’s thin, the same color as the outfit, and it ties around the waist. It goes over the blouse, so it makes the suit look a little more formfitting, a little more hip.” Cate imagined them all walking off the set of Three’s Company.

  “Hmmm.” Leslie thought about it while she looked at Cate in the suit. Then she nodded. “Yeah, go ahead and order the belts.”

  The saleslady penciled something on her order form.

  After Leslie complained about Offra’s behavior to the saleslady, she headed to a dressing room. Cate was also about to change clothes when the saleslady looked up at the bridesmaids. “Bridesmaids, are you all planning on paying in full today?”

  “We don’t have to pay for the whole thing today? Right?” Bethany asked.

  “No. You can put down a deposit of two hundred dollars and pay for the rest later if you’d like.”

  “A two hundred dollar deposit?” Sarah asked. “How much is the suit?”

  “The top is one twenty, and the bottom is two thirty-five so . . .” She pulled a small calculator from her pocket and punched in several numbers. “You’re looking at about three fifty-five—without tax.”

  Three fifty-five for a freaking disco suit. The millennium had passed, for God’s sake!

  “Oh and I forgot the belt! So that will add another forty.”

  Cate had spent the past two years trying to get out of the credit card debt she had incurred in college. Today, she was plunging, head-first, right back into it. She was going to have to put in a few days of work at Beth’s bead store to make extra money this summer. Ethan had also mentioned that he was planning on paying her. She’d figure out a way to pay the suit off. She paid in full. What difference did it make? She couldn’t afford the damn thing anyway.

  Cate hated being late. The thought of leaving someone waiting panicked her. It made her feel like an unreliable flake. Ethan might be worried, wondering if she had been in a car wreck or forgotten about him. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone waiting for her, pegging her as inconsiderate. With Offra and the disco pants, everything at The Bridal Chateau had taken much longer than she had anticipated. The manager had asked them to fill out a formal complaint about the seamstress. Cate had gotten a little carried away, writing a very detailed account of Fuck Offra’s behavior, citing specific examples and quotes.

  She arrived at the catering business twenty minutes late. Her cheeks were pink, and she was sweating.

  All the windows and doors in his office were open, and a ceiling fan spun on turbo. The swift blasts of air felt refreshing. Ethan sat behind a desk talking on the phone.

  He waved. “Have a seat.”

  She took a chair across from him and set her camera bag on the floor.

  He wrote something on a piece of paper and passed it to her from across his desk: “Sorry. It’s the nightmare client of the summer on the phone. It’s good to see you.”

  She wrote back, “No worries. I’m late anyway!” She noticed his unshaven face again and couldn’t get over the idea that Ethan Blakely could grow facial hair. In high school, he’d been a late bloomer. He’d been skinny and had always worn baggy clothes to hide his small frame.

  He used to do his own laundry. Occasionally he’d accidentally throw in a red shirt with the whites, ending up with pink socks. Never stopped him from wearing them though. Or, for no explanation, some of his darks would come out with random little bleach spots. Instead of letting the cleaning lady use his black pants or shirts as rags, he’d take a marker and just color in the dots, wearing the clothes as if they were as good as new.

  She wondered if he’d lost his virginity yet. Of course he had. He must’ve by now. Ethan and Cate seemed to be the only two teenagers at La Jolla High that had been immune to the plague of sexual obsession that had struck their classmates. Cate listened to all of her friends describe their deflowering, but she simply wasn’t interested in any of the horny idiots in her grade. She was saving it for someone who mattered—like Robert Smith of The Cure. And while all the guys their age were out screwing, breaking hearts, and tallying up the number of girls they had bedded, Ethan had been more interested in building a fishing canoe and surfing. Besides, he had looked twelve when he was sixteen and would’ve had one hell of time trying to find a girl who would give it up for him anyway.

  He took a deep breath after he hung up the phone and shook his head. “Sorry about that. This lady calls me every day about her husband’s retirement party.”

  “High-maintenance?” Cate asked.

  “High-maintenance isn’t the description for her. That’s being too nice.” He smiled at Cate. “Anyway, it’s good to see you. Why don’t I show you what I have in mind? I’ve collected some broch
ures from other catering businesses, so you can kind of get an idea of what we’re looking for.”

  For several minutes, they went over brochures of food. A tall blond guy wearing swim trunks, a T-shirt, and flip-flops entered the office. “What’s up?” he said.

  “Cate, this is my partner, Sean,” Ethan said. “Sean, this is Cate. She’s going to be taking the pictures for us.”

  He shook Cate’s hand. “Cool. I’ll go set up the stuff.”

  “We’ve already prepared all the entrées we’d like you to photograph.”

  They went over some ideas for photos.

  “Now, as far as payment goes.” His blue eyes settled on her when he spoke. “I wasn’t really sure how much something like this costs, and you mentioned that you’ve never done anything like this before, so I called around just to compare.”

  She really hated discussing money with friends, but after spending nearly four hundred dollars on an outfit she would only wear once, she could really use the cash.

  “How does seven hundred sound?” he asked.

  Seven hundred! She had hoped for two hundred. She felt a flickering moment of greed, part of her wanting to yell, “Deal!”

  Then she shook her head. “I can’t take that much money from you. It will probably only cost me about two hundred for film and development with enlargements and everything.”

  “Well, consider the rest compensation for your time and labor.”

  “That’s a lot, Ethan. I can’t take it.”

  “Okay six hundred and fifty.”

  “Ethan! That’s still a lot. I can’t.”

  Eventually, they settled on four hundred fifty. Cate felt relieved that she would have the money to pay off the dress. On the other hand, she would’ve loved to have bought herself something she could’ve really used, or taken the wagon in to get fixed.

  Ethan led her to the gigantic kitchen in the back of the building.

  Dozens of side dishes, entrées, and desserts had been arranged over a burgundy tablecloth. Her stomach growled as she looked at the cuisine, tempted to shove a stuffed mushroom into her mouth while his back was turned.

  She took a few different pictures of each dish, adjusting the lighting and trying different angles. She’d never had a professional photo assignment before and hoped she was doing a good job. She felt nervous.

  The food looked delicious. The appetizers varied from crab pot stickers to Mediterranean bruschetta topped with feta cheese. Main courses included pesto swordfish and filet mignon stuffed with bacon and shrimp. She was dying to dig into the chocolate lava cake and apple crisp. After three rolls of film, she was finished.

  “You hungry?” Ethan asked.

  “I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  He pulled two forks from a drawer. “Let me just heat some of these things up, and then we can grind.”

  Cate stuffed herself with pot stickers and bruschetta. Then they shared the pesto-covered swordfish. She was stuffed by the time he offered her a piece of chocolate lava cake, but ate it anyway. After they were finished with dessert, she knew her breath reeked of garlic from the other food. But she didn’t care. It was just Ethan. Hanging out with him still made her feel at ease. He was like Jill or Beth. She could let loose, be herself in front of him. During the summers of their youth they used to camp on the beach. She would sleep next to Ethan, waking up with crusty rings of sand on her face and streaks of mascara bleeding from her eyes. It always seemed natural. If she had been sleeping next to any other guy, she would’ve slipped away at the crack of dawn to wash her face and reapply makeup.

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asked, clearing the dishes.

  Beading? Talking on the phone? “I don’t really have any plans.”

  “Sean and I and some other guys are going to The Casbah. My friend’s band, King Mother, is playing. You should come. Bring some friends.”

  “All right,” she said. They made arrangements to meet at The Casbah at nine.

  10 • King Mother

  “I can’t believe we’re hanging out with Ethan Blakely,” Beth said after she took a sip of her Jack and Coke. She pushed a stray wisp of her waist-length, jet-black hair behind her ear. Although Beth came from an Irish American background, people often assumed she had more exotic roots. She had olive-colored skin and dark, deep eyes that resembled those of a Spanish vixen. She really was a knockout, and Cate often felt like a pale little creature next to her. “Does Ethan still have a crush on you?” Beth asked.

  “What? No! He never did,” Cate said.

  “Yes he did! Whenever you were grounded, he used to spend hours talking on the phone with you. He never did that for me when I was grounded.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, I was grounded all the time. It was the only way anyone could talk to me.

  “Who had a crush on Cate?” Jill asked, rejoining them with a fresh cocktail.

  “Ethan,” Beth said.

  Jill raised an eyebrow. “Really? You never mentioned that. Does this mean that Paulo’s next trip might be to Splitsville?”

  Jill and Beth laughed.

  Cate gave them both a look. “No.”

  Earlier she had persuaded Beth, Beth’s fiancé Ike, and Jill to go to The Casbah with her. Now she wished she had swung it solo. All this talk of Paul and Ethan. Please. She was devoted to her boyfriend, and Ethan Blakely was practically a distant relative. Their comments were getting on her nerves.

  “What’s going on with Paulo anyway?” Ike asked.

  “He’s in Maui. And his name is not Paulo. It’s Paul.”

  “Has Paulo been calling a lot?” Beth wanted to know.

  “We haven’t talked yet,” Cate said. She felt an aching feeling of dismay reach out and grab her for the fifteenth time that day. He hadn’t called since Monday. She had promised herself that she would not think about it while she was out. She wanted to have fun tonight. And besides, she didn’t feel like boring everyone with Paul stories.

  “I heard that Ethan has a girlfriend anyway,” Beth said. “One of my customers was dating him.” Beth owned a bead shop in Pacific Beach. She knew practically all of her customers by name. Most of them had taken her beading classes at some point.

  Cate looked around the bar for Ethan. The Casbah was an old San Diego bar near the airport that had become a landmark. It was dimly lit, with bartenders who wore more tattoos than smiles. Ethan looked casual as he walked toward them, a few friends in tow. He wore jeans and a faded black T-shirt. Whatever had been advertised on the front of his shirt had long since been lost in the washing machine. He waved.

  “Hey!” he said when he noticed Beth. “Wow! It’s been awhile.” They hugged. Then Beth introduced Ethan to Ike and Jill.

  Ethan introduced his friends.

  “Let’s do a shot,” Beth said. “A tribute to old friends.”

  “All right. You guys pick. I’ll buy,” Ethan said.

  Beth wanted to do a shot of Cuervo, Jill wanted a Scooby snack, and Cate wanted a buttery nipple. Ethan ordered all three, one of each for everyone—including Ike and all of Ethan’s friends.

  Ike and the girls insisted on giving him money, but he wouldn’t take it. Three shots and one cocktail in a matter of fifteen minutes equaled drunk for Cate. By the time the band started, she had made herself comfortable on the dance floor. Jill was front row, dead center, dancing by herself like no one was watching. Ike and Beth were dancing near Cate and Ethan, who were spinning around, Fred and Ginger style, to the rock music that blasted throughout The Casbah.

  Cate loved the band and danced to every song, taking a break only to order another gin and tonic.

  “Let’s do another shot,” she said when Ethan joined her at the bar. “I’m buying this time.”

  “All right. Pick whatever you want.”

  It felt familiar to be with Ethan again, and Cate wondered why they had ever lost touch. They leaned against the bar, chitchatting and catching up, occasionally stopping to wat
ch some of the outlandish dancers on the dance floor.

  Jill joined them, and Cate ordered a round of buttery nipples. They were wedged, closely together, in a corner of the bar.

  “Your hair smells good,” Jill said to Ethan. “Is that Aveda shampoo? Those are the best products.”

  “A-what?”

  “Aveda. Did you wash your hair with Aveda?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, it smells good. Do you know what it is?”

  He shrugged. “Soap. Irish Spring. I don’t know. I just use whatever’s in my shower.”

  Jill’s face was a mixture of horror and awe.

  The funny feeling of her cell phone vibrating against her leg sent little quivers up Cate’s thigh. She’d put the phone on vibrate before the show because she knew she would never hear it ring inside the bar. She pulled the phone from her pocket.

  It was Paul.

  He said something that sounded like Why did you? but she couldn’t make out a word over the music.

  “What?”

  “I said: Where are you!” he yelled.

  “Oh! I’m at The Casbah.”

  “Where?”

  “The Cas-bah!”

  He said something else that she couldn’t understand. She plugged her free ear with her finger and tried to listen, but it was impossible over the music.

  “Hey, I’ll just call you later!” she yelled. “I can’t hear you!”

  She’d been waiting for his call all week and was disappointed when she hung up. She slipped the phone back into her jeans pocket.

  “Was that Paul?” Jill asked.

  Cate nodded.

  “Is Paul your boyfriend?” Ethan asked.

  “Yes. He’s in Maui.”

  “Surfing?”

  “No. Working.”

  “How long have you been dating him?” he asked.

  “About a year.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Jill asked.

  “Oh yeah, I heard you had a girlfriend,” Cate said.

  “No.” He took his Jack and Coke from the counter. “We broke up.” His gaze drifted from the girls to the band.