Dress Rehearsal

by Jennifer O'Connell

  “As opposed to fish? Do fish symbolize the carbon dioxide headache I had for days after diving, or the black eyes and temporary hearing loss?” Paige crossed her arms over her chest, not waiting for an answer from Steve.

  He stared down into his lap and looked so hurt that I wanted to stand up and remind them that it was just a wedding – but I didn’t know which side they’d think I was on. For Paige, just a wedding meant that she wasn’t asking for any more than every other woman who used to fasten bath towels to her head as a girl and pretend she was marching down the aisle to the familiar chords of Here Comes the Bride. For Steve just a wedding meant the day he married the woman he loved, not the day he played host to a bunch of strangers he was paying over one hundred dollars a plate to feed. And me? For me, it was just another wedding, another glimpse into the future of the couple before me – and I didn’t like what I was seeing.

  Paige wanted a cake made from carrots, one of the few cakes that actually used an ingredient that grew in soil. Steve wanted to pay homage to the sea - and everyone knew that when mixed together, soil and water just made mud. As if that wasn’t enough, the fact that Steve couldn’t even share a cake with his guests certainly called into question whether he was ready to share his life with Paige.

  I had to forget the fact that Paige and Steve were my friends, and play the peacekeeping role I’d slipped into so often I was the veritable Kofi Annan of wedding cakes.

  I took a deep breath. “Let’s start over.”

  After negotiating for an hour to come to a compromise, Paige and Steve finally settled on a sea-inspired theme over the cupcake fish tank Steve had us envisioning. There would be no fish, just sugar paste shells nestled against seagrass and coral constructed of rolled fondant. The cupcakes were replaced with multiple undulating carrot cakes covered in vanilla spiced buttercream and intended to resemble dunes. There would be no cream cheese filling and no marzipan, although Steve lobbied hard.

  Once I’d written up the order, an order that should have had a big red stop sign on it, I carried the plates back into the kitchen and tried to think of a way to gracefully bow out of our plans for cocktails. I couldn’t go out with Paige and Steve after what I’d just witnessed, besides the fact that they were barely speaking even as I wrote up the final specifications for the cake.

  I grabbed a stack of invoices off my desk and returned to the gallery, where Paige and Steve were already bundled in their coats waiting for me.

  “You know, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do drinks.” I held up the invoice slips to show them there was no way I could possibly take off. “We have all these to fill tomorrow, and I should really get some of the paperwork completed.”

  “Maybe meet us when you’re done?” Paige suggested half-heartedly, probably thankful I didn’t want to prolong the agony of the evening. "And don't forget, we’re meeting at six o’clock in front of Filene’s next Thursday morning. If we’re any later we’ll never have a chance at the best dresses.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I let them out the front door and waved at the departing couple through the plate glass window. Even as they neared Dartmouth Street, I continued watching until they crossed the street to hail a cab, their bodies huddled against the March wind blowing around Steve’s wool scarf like a kite tail.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Paige and Steve wouldn’t end up like all the other couples I’d had a hunch about. Sure, they were an odd couple, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t work out. Look at me and Neil. Everyone thought we were a great couple. And where were we today? He was in DC and I was still here in Boston, making sure I didn’t settle. Then again, look at Robin and Mark. If I’d said something, maybe Robin wouldn’t be plotting how to best leverage her knowledge that Mark was deathly afraid of Siamese cats.

  Even as I replayed the last two hours in my mind, the strained voices and cutting remarks, I knew I was kidding myself. Paige and Steve were a mismatch and Robin and I had known it from the beginning. Anyone could tell just by looking at them.

  As soon as their cab pulled away, I ran into the kitchen and grabbed my jacket.

  Two minutes later, the lights were off, the alarm was set and I was on my way to Robin’s to break the news about our best friend’s doomed marriage.

  Chapter 5

  “You’re not going to believe this – Steve wanted fish on the cake, only he didn’t even want a cake, he wanted cupcakes.” I took the glass of wine from Robin’s hand and downed a generous gulp even before I removed my coat.

  “Like sushi cupcakes?” she asked, pouring herself another glass of Merlot and leading me into the living room. “A wee bit odd, even for Steve.”

  “No, he didn’t want the fish in the cake, he wanted them on the cake – swimming on the cake, as he put it,” I explained, taking a seat in an overstuffed Shabby Chic armchair.

  “And Paige?”

  “Carrot cake.”

  Robin wrinkled her nose. “That’s weird.”

  “They don’t agree on anything. Paige has her heart set on a big formal wedding and Steve wants nothing to do with it. That’s not just weird, Robin. That’s all wrong.” I tossed my legs over the arm of the chair, held out my glass for another helping, and started to tell Robin about my theory.

  Robin let me finish, but didn’t waste any time letting me know what she thought. “Okay, now you’re weird.”

  “It’s true, I swear. Every time I hear that one of my clients split up, I go back to my notes, and most of the time it’s right there in black and white – totally incompatible.”

  “All that from a lousy cake?”

  It wasn’t as ridiculous as Robin was making it out to be. Watching people interact at a pivotal moment is telling. And if people are willing to buy into horoscopes, why shouldn’t your tastes and preferences also reveal something? At least with a cake, unlike astrology, you were making a conscious decision. I was a fairly intelligent, rational person, and I believed it. It just made sense.

  “First of all, my cakes aren’t lousy. And second of all, it’s not just the cake. It’s their body language and the way they interact together.”

  “You didn’t know with Mark and me,” she pointed out, tucking her bare feet under her and reaching for a magazine on the coffee table.

  I didn’t answer, and instead took a sip of wine and busied myself with a loose thread clinging precariously to the chair’s slipcover.

  Robin stopped flipping through the magazine and looked up at me.

  “Did you?” she asked, sensing that I was holding out on her.

  “Well, maybe I had an idea,” I started, but it wasn’t even worth the effort. There was no such thing as hedging your bet when you were dealing with Robin.

  “Don’t give me that crap. Did you know?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes in a bad imitation of interrogation tactics she’s probably seen Sipowitz use on NYPD Blue.

  “I thought maybe you’d have issues,” I ventured, trying to tread lightly into dangerous territory.

  Robin tossed the magazine back onto the table with such force it skated effortlessly across the glass and off the other side onto the floor.

  “Issues? Like him leaving me on our second wedding anniversary-type of issues? Like him making a toast to future possibilities and then telling me that his future didn’t include me-type of issues?”

  I nodded and Paige jumped off the sofa so fast her Merlot splashed right out of the glass and onto her sweater.

  “Did Paige know? Did you tell her what you thought?” Right around the time Mark was divorcing Robin, Paige read an article about the growing popularity of starter marriages – first marriages that last less than five years and don’t result in any kids. But, Robin didn’t find any solace in Paige’s declaration that Robin wasn’t a failure – she was trendy.

  “I never told anyone – I’ve never told any of the couples, even when it was so obvious to me.” I almost held up my two fingers and swore on my Brownie badges, but I figured Robin
had to believe me. After all, I’d never told her about any of this before now.

  “I can understand not telling your clients, but me? I’m your best friend. You would have saved me two miserable fucking years being married to a guy who couldn’t even commit to getting monogrammed towels.”

  “I’m sorry, maybe I should have said something – as if you would even listen to me.”

  “If I’d known your track record maybe I would have listened.”

  “So now you know. What are we going to do about it?”

  “Well, we sure as hell can’t let Paige marry Steve.”

  I laughed and then realized Robin was serious. ”Um, yeah we can.”

  “Do you know how much money I’ve spent subscribing to gay porn and having it sent to Mark’s office? How much time I’ve spent making sure he’s on the mailing list of every transsexual support group in New England? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to sit down with a man who promised to spend his life with you, only to find out that after six years of being together there isn’t one God damned thing you bought together that he wants to keep?”

  Mark wasn’t gay or a transsexual, in fact he even started dating again shortly after he left Robin, which only fueled her efforts to make him regret he ever proposed to her.

  “I’m not letting Paige go through that, and neither are you,” Robin informed me, her woman-wronged speech concluded.

  “So what are we going to do about it?” I asked slowly, the wine starting to erode my better judgment. I was actually beginning to buy into Robin’s little lecture. I was ready to take action – Robin was the Norma Rae of bad relationships, and I was willing to follow her into battle.

  Robin came over to my chair and kneeled on the floor next to me. “Operation Save Paige.”

  “Operation Save Paige?”

  “We’re going to figure out a way to help her see the light before it’s too late.”

  I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. “But Paige thinks Steve’s the one.”

  Robin patted my knee and then rested her elbows on my thigh, like a teacher addressing her student. “Baby doll, if you’ve learned nothing else from me, you’ve learned two things. Number one, spit don’t swallow. And number two, there’s no such thing as the one.”

  “She’s in love with Steve, and he’s a good guy.” I could still picture him staring into his lap as Paige maligned his memories of their scuba diving trip.

  “Sure, Steve’s a nice guy, but he’s not the right guy for her.” Robin could tell she was getting to me, and so she went in for the closer. “Look,” she began, her voice getting lower and more serious. “They’ve been together less than a year, and he proposed after six months – you can’t tell me you think that’s long enough to know you’re ready to spend the rest of your life with someone. Love does not conquer all – I should know.”

  I wanted to disagree with Robin, to tell her that I was confident Paige and Steve wouldn’t end up like her and Mark. But I couldn’t, because deep down, I wasn’t sure.

  “So how do we convince her? We’re supposed to help her pick out a wedding dress in all of -” I turned to face the clock on the wall, “seven days and ten hours.”

  Robin moved back to the couch and curled up against a pillow while she considered my question. We’d promised to help Paige navigate the legendary one-day bridal sale at Filene’s Basement just like Paige and I had helped Robin. With a fairy tale white gown hanging in her closet there was no way Paige would listen to us. “Shit, I’ll have to think about that. But, as soon as I come up with an answer, I’ll let you know.”

  “Well, we better move fast, if she finds a dress it will be that much harder to get her to change her mind. I don’t know if I can take the crying and handholding and histrionics of another friend’s divorce.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry it was so hard on you,” Robin cracked dryly before reaching for the wine bottle and draining it into her glass. “Hey, if anyone can come up with a plan, I’m the one. Do you doubt me?”

  How could I doubt a woman who slipped into Mark’s parking garage unnoticed and replaced the staff’s ArmorAll leather conditioner with rubber cement – a swap that went unnoticed until the valet had completed conditioning the driver’s seat of Mark’s BMW?

  I shook my head and changed the subject. “So what’s going on? You obviously didn’t ask me over here to talk about Paige and Steve.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Robin got up and brushed past the end table on her way into the kitchen to retrieve another bottle of wine. The table shook nervously and knocked over a picture frame holding a vividly colored photograph of a little girl grasping a beach ball. The little girl in that frame appeared shortly after Mark walked out, just like the black and white picture of the Tom Cruise look-alike nuzzling a golden retriever, and the elderly couple holding hands on the beach as they looked off into the sunset – both held in frames reclining on Robin’s fireplace mantle.

  After Mark left, Robin purged her apartment of all things ex-husband-related, which included removing, and burning, any pictures she once proudly displayed as a testament to their happiness. Over two years later, she still hadn’t replaced the snapshots of bitter memories with new ones, and so every time Paige and I sat in Robin’s living room we were forced to look at pictures of strangers from stock photo archives.

  Robin returned from the kitchen with an open wine bottle and took her place back on the couch. “I’m being sued.”

  “By who?”

  “So far all I know him as is Plaintiff. His girlfriend tried to cut his nuts off. I guess she took SCALPEL a little too literally and now he’s taking me to court.”

  “Is it serious?” The last time Robin was in court, when the divorce was finalized, I thought they’d have to put her in shackles to keep her from lunging at her soon-to-be ex-husband. Plaintiff had no idea who he was dealing with.

  “Hell yeah, it’s serious. He says I was negligent, that I demonstrated a lack of concern for whether an injury would occur as a result of my seminars. The bastard’s looking for monetary damages – even though she didn’t even succeed. Just one more guy trying to screw me.”

  “You were bound to piss off someone sooner or later.” Actually, I thought Robin was lucky it took this long to catch up with her. I was sure Mark would have taken out a restraining order against her by now.

  Robin stood up and took my empty glass. “It’s called free speech, Lauren, and someone’s got to teach these women how to stand up for themselves. Besides, why would I tell someone to do that? I’m not stupid.”

  “You’re not exactly careful, either.”

  “Women need to know they can live without men.”

  “Like you?” I asked, knowing that almost one third of all Robin’s waking hours were consumed with thoughts of Mark.

  “Exactly,” Robin smiled. “More wine?”

  I nodded. “Fill ‘er up.”

  “So my attorney suggested that I rally the troops. I may need you and Paige and some of my better adjusted clients to vouch for me.”

  “Vouch for you how?”

  “By confirming that I’m a legitimate business woman and not some psycho instructing seminar attendees to seek revenge on men’s genitalia.”

  “So you want me to lie?”

  Robin didn’t crack a smile. “Seriously, Lauren. This is important.”

  “Okay, if I’m needed I’ll swear on a stack of bibles that you’re the picture of mental health and not a militant man-hater masquerading as a self-help guru.”

  “Thanks.” A weak smile replaced the genuine look of concern that had clouded Robin’s face.

  “So that’s it? Anything else to tell me?” I asked, realizing that I’d been around the caustic Robin so long I’d almost forgotten that before Mark left she actually had moments of vulnerability.

  “Isn’t that enough?” she groused, already firmly back on the path to acrimony.

  I briefly considered telling Robin about my date with Charlie, but
since Paige’s engagement implied she’d defected to the other side, I’d become Robin’s de facto conspirator. And with her self-help empire on the verge of being tried in court, the last thing she needed was to find out that I was reentering the world of male-female relations.

  Instead we flipped on the TV to catch the last few minutes of The Stag while we drained yet another bottle of wine. I must have dozed off from the constant stream of Merlot, because when I glanced over at the green numbers illuminated on the VCR it was almost eleven o’clock and I could hear soft snores coming from Robin’s direction.

  I stood up and shook my leg, trying to get the blood flowing through the pins and needles that made my foot feel like I’d stepped on a porcupine. The inside of the living room window was steamed over, creating a cloudy coating that distorted the lights on the downtown high rises and made them look strobelike. Without even rubbing the window clean I knew what waited outside, and I was already wishing I was at home in my own bed and not about to venture into the frigid night.

  “I better get going if I’m expected to be bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow morning.”

  Robin stirred and then stood up slowly, stretching her arms out over her head. “You’ll be okay catching a cab?” she asked, walking me to the front door.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Hey.” Robin grabbed my shoulder and stopped me from leaving. “Don’t forget about Operation Save Paige. She needs us.”

  I hugged Robin and stepped through the door into the hallway. “I know she does.”

  I realized that Paige needed our help to save her from making a big mistake. I just wasn’t sure that a woman with a grudge against the male species and a cake clairvoyant were the ones who should be doing the saving.

  Chapter 6

  “Get the telephone,” Maria ordered, pointing to my desk.

  My arms were stacked full of powder pink cardboard cake boxes, but since I thought it might be Charlie calling to confirm our date tonight, I laid the boxes on the floor, cleared my throat and reached for the phone.