I get off the toilet to squat down next to the tub and hug Maddy. “Come on, you don’t mean that. Remember how happy you were when Grace showed up? Remember how much you wanted to be a grown-up again?”
“That was before she dumped me.”
I find a hand mirror on the counter. I hold it up to Maddy’s face, to try something Mac did with me early in our relationship. “I want you to look in that mirror and tell me what you see.”
Maddy looks in the mirror for a couple of seconds. “I see a big fat lard.”
“Try harder, Maddy. Tell me who’s underneath that fat.”
Maddy tries again; she stares into the mirror for a full minute. “I see a stupid little girl who fell in love with the wrong woman and even after she figured that out, she kept clinging to this stupid hope that the woman would change and they could be happy.”
I lean close to her and give her shoulder a squeeze. “You’re not stupid, Madison. Think of all you’ve done. You got your degree. You work for the newspaper—”
“It took me six years to get my degree. And it’s a shitty newspaper.”
“So what? The point is you did it on your own.”
“Whoopee.”
“And you’re a really good friend. An even better little sister.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re a good person with a big heart.”
“Look where that got me.”
“Maddy, please—”
“It’s easy for you to say all this. You’ve got your man. What do I have? A crappy job, nowhere to live, no girlfriend, a mom I hardly talk to, and a best friend who fucked my girlfriend.”
“You can find a new place to live. I’m sure Grandma would be happy to take you in for a little while. You can have my old room.”
“Yeah, great.”
“You’ll find another girlfriend. You’re too good of a catch not to.”
“Sure,” she says. She jiggles her stomach. “A lot of women want to date a whale.”
“You can lose the weight. Grandma and I will help you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maddy, you’ve got to stop feeling sorry for yourself. My wedding is a month away and I need your help. There’s so much we still have to do. We have to get the dresses and decide on the cake and all that stuff.”
“You can do that. I’m out of the wedding business.”
“Come on, I need you to at least go with me. You’re the one who’s read all those magazines. You’re the expert.”
“Maybe.”
“This isn’t the end of your life, Maddy. You’re only twenty-seven. You’ve got plenty of time left to find someone who will marry you.” I elbow her gently in the ribs. “In time you’ll meet someone who makes you forget all about that flaky old dyke.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so,” I say. I thought I’d never find anyone to replace Debbie, not until Mac came along. Too bad I can’t tell her that. I reach for a towel to hand to her. “Let’s get you dried off. Then we can pack up your stuff and you can go home with Grandma.”
She considers this for a moment before she takes the towel. “OK. I’ll give it a shot.”
“That’s my girl,” I say, giving her a hug.
An hour later we’ve got all of Maddy’s things in Tess’s station wagon. The apartment is empty except for a few old dishes and the furniture Maddy and Grace salvaged from the trash. That can go back from whence it came eventually.
I leave Mac a message to tell him I’m staying with Tess tonight. I want to make sure Maddy gets through these first twenty-four hours of her new life.
Chapter 15
The next day Maddy and I stop at Mac’s house. Mac is at the office, but Jamie is there, at the piano with Darren. He taps some keys and then invites her to do the same. They giggle as she misses a few notes. From the way they lean towards each other, I figure they’re about to kiss—
Maddy clears her throat. “Hey kids,” she says. “Are we interrupting something?”
“No,” Darren says too quickly. “I was trying to teach Jamie to play.”
“I’m pretty hopeless,” Jamie says. “I had some lessons when I was little. I could only ever learn to do ‘Chopsticks.’”
“You should hear Stace play,” Maddy says. She nudges me in the ribs. “It sounds like someone’s pushing the piano down some stairs.”
“I’m not that bad,” I say. I give Jamie a hug. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
“It’s cool,” Jamie says. “No one’s asked me to be in a wedding before. What is it I’m supposed to do?”
“Mostly just stand there,” Maddy says. “And if I can’t fulfill my duties as maid of honor, you’ll have to fill in.”
“And do what?”
“Stand there,” Maddy says and we all laugh, even Darren.
The good feelings end once the door opens. From the piano bench, Darren is the first to see our new visitor. His face pales a little and his mouth goes slack. “Mom?”
I turn and see Darren’s mom Mary Anne in the doorway with a suitcase. She looks about as skinny and pale as I am, though her hair is a sandy color and she doesn’t have glasses. “Hello,” she says in almost a whisper.
When he was younger, Darren would race into his mother’s arms to hug her. Now that he’s fifteen—and been through about a dozen of these reunions—he’s far more subdued; he doesn’t even get off the piano bench. “They said you weren’t coming home until next week.”
“They decided to let me out early,” she says. “I didn’t want to bother your uncle, so I took a cab.”
Only now does Mary Anne seem to notice the rest of us. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“Nothing much,” I say. “We were just getting ready to do some shopping.” I clear my throat and then continue, “It’s actually a good thing you’re here. Robert and I would like you to be a part of the wedding. As a bridesmaid?”
“Oh,” she says. Her cheeks turn red. This probably isn’t how she imagined her homecoming. “That sounds nice.”
I put a hand on Maddy’s shoulder. “This is my maid of honor, Madison Griffith. And that’s my other bridesmaid, Jamie Borstein.”
“It’s good to meet you.” She focuses on Jamie. “We met before, didn’t we?”
“Yep. Like three years ago.” Jamie puts an arm around Darren’s shoulder; his face goes beet red. “I’m his main squeeze.”
Darren shakes Jamie off. Like a gentleman he takes his mom’s suitcase. “You’re probably tired,” he says. “The guestroom is a little messy.”
He leads her upstairs, which leaves Maddy, Jamie, and I alone. “She seems nice,” Maddy says.
Jamie snorts. “Only when she’s not using. Then she’s a real bitch.”
“Jamie—”
“How long you suppose she’ll be around this time?”
“You shouldn’t talk like that,” I say, though I wonder the same thing. “She needs our love and support to help her get well.”
“You’d think since her brother is a shrink she wouldn’t be so messed up.”
“We all have problems,” I say.
“I guess,” Jamie says. With a sigh she takes her phone out of her purse. “You guys want to play Angry Birds?”
***
We let Mary Anne take a nap for a couple of hours. Once she’s up and around again, we decide to go out for lunch and hit a dress shop to at least get some measurements. Maddy takes it upon herself as the maid of honor to try to engage Mary Anne. Like her son, Mary Anne isn’t very talkative. As I know from experience, Maddy won’t let that stop her.
“Stace says you were in the Peace Corps?” Maddy asks in the cab.
“A long time ago,” Mary Anne says.
“I thought about doing that when I dropped out of school. It probably would have been better than working at the Krappy Koffee.”
“It was OK.”
“That’s how she met Darren’s father,” I say. I hope the mention of her son
will perk her up.
It doesn’t work. She mumbles, “Yes. I did.”
“That’s got to be a romantic story,” Maddy says.
“Not really.”
“You and Stace probably get along great. Neither of you likes to talk. You two probably just stare at each other, right?”
“Not really.”
“Tough crowd,” Maddy says. She clears her throat to try again. “So do you play the piano?”
“I did. I don’t anymore.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yes.”
Mary Anne turns to stare out the window. Mac says she was driven to use drugs from the stress of performing for crowds, her parents’s divorce when she was young, and the trauma of witnessing the man she loved butchered by machete-wielding rebels. She started with pot, but when that wasn’t enough she moved on to harder stuff: meth, crack, heroin. She’ll get clean for a few months—long enough to give Mac and Darren hope—before she has another setback. It won’t be long until she ends up in prison instead of rehab.
An air of gloom hangs over us as we get to the dress shop. Not the same dress shop as before; it’s another one on Maddy’s list. Like before we go through a catalog of what they have first. Mary Anne and Jamie don’t get involved in this process; Jamie plays on her phone and Mary Anne stares out the window. They’re content to let Maddy take charge, as am I. At least it gives Maddy something to take her mind off Grace.
“I like this one,” Maddy says. She points to a dress like the one she showed me last time.
“It’s nice,” I say.
“Nice? Come on, Stace, don’t be such a downer. There has to be something in here you really like.”
I flip a few pages. None of the dresses really seem to be me. I remember what Grace said five years ago about me being a “functional girl.” A wedding dress is the opposite of functional; they’re supposed to be ostentatious.
On the very last page I see the one that calls out to me. It’s mostly a plain white gown, with a little bit of lace ruffle at the bottom of the skirt. The sleeves are made of lace too, though not puffy like some of the others. There’s a heart-shaped cutout in the back of it to expose some skin, at least what’s not obscured by the train. “I like this one,” I say.
“That? It’s kind of boring.”
“It’s simple,” I say.
“Come on, Stace, you’re only going to get this one chance to do something big.”
“It’s my wedding,” I say. “I want to try it on.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
It takes the salesgirl a few minutes to find the dress in the stockroom. It’s a little big on me, though the salesgirl assures me they can have it altered to fit in time. I let her zip me up and then look at myself in the mirror. I imagine the veil over my face, the flowers in my hands, and Mac next to me. I close my eyes. I see him lift that veil and lean down to give me a kiss. “This is it,” I say. “This is the dress.”
“You’re sure?” Maddy says.
“Yes.”
“Fine. Just don’t be surprised if everyone else is looking at the bridesmaids instead.”
“They’d have a hard time not seeing you,” Jamie says.
“You got quite the mouth on you, kid. I like it.”
Mary Anne waits until Maddy and Jamie have gone off to get their measurements before she says, “You look very pretty.”
“Thanks.”
“I wanted to thank you for being such a good friend to Darren. And of course my brother. It hasn’t been easy for them with everything.”
“I love them both,” I say. “Mac is such a great guy and Darren is really special.”
“He is.” She surprises me by crying. “I’ve been a rotten mother.”
“Hey, come on,” I say. I’d usually hug her, but I don’t want to get anything on this dress, so I touch her arm. “Darren loves you. So does Mac.”
“I’m a screw-up,” she says.
“We all make mistakes,” I say.
“Not this many.”
It’s hard to disagree with that. Then I see Maddy getting measured by one of the salesgirls and think of all the mistakes I made. “There’s still time to make up for it,” I say. “Darren’s only fifteen. He still needs his mom.”
“Maybe.” She looks down at her feet. “He already has you.”
“I’m not his mom. I’m more like his big sister.”
“Hey, Mary Anne! It’s your turn,” Maddy calls out.
“Whatever happens, Darren, Mac, and I will be there for you, OK?”
“OK.” Then she trudges off to get her measurements taken while I change out of my wedding dress.
Chapter 16
Three weeks later Mac and I are in the airport. In the old days we would wait by the gate, but now we have to mill around in the baggage claim. Mac is the most nervous I’ve ever seen him; I can see the trail his loafers have worn into the tile. I put a hand on his shoulder before he can pass by me.
“It’s going to be fine,” I say. “I’ve dealt with dangerous criminals; I think I can handle your mom.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says with a nervous grin.
“She can’t be any worse than some of the junkies and hookers I’ve busted.”
“She’s not that bad,” he admits. He swallows and says, “She’s a different kind of bad.”
“I see.” I smooth imaginary wrinkles from the lemon yellow summer dress I wear. “You don’t think she’ll like me?”
“Well, let’s just say she’s never been the most open-minded person.”
“Oh, so it’s because I’m half-Chinese?”
“In part.”
“What’s the rest of it?”
“It’s nothing,” he says. He kisses me on the cheek. “You’re right: it’ll be fine.”
He slips away from me to resume pacing. Because I want to make a good first impression, for today I’ve nixed the quirky glasses and bangs in favor of contacts and a tight ponytail. I wear three-inch heels too so I won’t be at much of a height disadvantage. There’s not much I can do about my Chinese features; she’ll just have to get used to those.
Her flight from Phoenix is on time according to the status board in the baggage claim. I check my watch; she should be landing right about now. Then the plane has to taxi to the gate and she has to disembark. About a half-hour more to wait.
I finally snatch Mac’s arm to wrangle him onto a chair. “Relax,” I tell him. “Even if she doesn’t like me, it’s not the end of the world, is it?”
“You’re right,” he says. He kisses me on the cheek so he won’t spoil my makeup. “You look beautiful.”
“Smooth talker,” I whisper.
We take out our phones to check our messages and so forth while we wait. There’s a message from Maddy that says the dresses will be ready to pick up tomorrow. I’ll have to make some time to be there so I can make sure it fits. I hope to hear something from Grace, but there’s been no word since my visit to Lacey Parente’s apartment.
About twenty minutes later, Mac nudges me in the ribs. “I think that’s her,” he says. He positions himself to face the stairway so she should be able to see him. I nuzzle in next to him. “This is it.”
His mom looks like one of those grand old dames with a mink coat and a pillbox hat atop her immaculate silver hair. She has the straight-backed bearing of a queen or at least a duchess, someone used to being waited on. I shift uncomfortably and instantly feel inadequate, like I’m a little orphan girl dressed in rags.
It’s a surprise when she blurts out, “There’s my Bobby!” She actually gets on her toes to kiss his cheek. Maybe she’s not so bad after all.
“Hello, Mother. How was your flight?”
“Dreadful. Now, where is this fiancée of yours?”
“Mother, this is Stacey Chance.”
I hold out a hand for her to shake. We’re about the same height in my heels, though I feel shorter when her gray eyes lock on me. I can feel the disapproval radiate from h
er. “You look much younger than Bobby said.”
“Just a young face,” I say. I force myself to smile.
“Stacey is twenty-three,” Mac says.
“That’s certainly a fun age,” his mother says. “Why, I wasn’t much more than that when I gave birth to Bobby. He hasn’t put a bun in your oven, has he?”
“Mother!”
“Oh yes, I forget, you young people today don’t have babies until you’re much older.”
Mac clears his throat. “Let’s go over and get your luggage. How many bags did you bring?”
“Just one,” she says. I wonder if that’s because she’s too cheap to pay the baggage fees or if she doesn’t plan to stay very long.
Mac insists on getting the bag from the conveyor, which leaves me to stand with his mom. She glares at me again before she asks, “What is it you do, Miss Chance?”
“Stacey, please,” I say. “I’m a singer.”
“Is that a fact? What is it you sing?”
“Mostly old songs. Cole Porter, that kind of stuff.”
“I see. Bobby’s father enjoyed that sort of music. I never really cared for it.”
I wince and wish Mac would have warned me about that. “I’ve been working on writing my own songs.”
“Yes, of course. How did you and Bobby meet?”
My face turns warm as I say, “I was a patient of his.”
She doesn’t say anything, but the cluck of her tongue is enough disapproval. She probably thinks I’m a flaky drug addict like Mary Anne. “What sort of name is Chance?” she asks.
“Um, well, I’m not sure.”
“Bobby’s father was a hundred percent Irish Catholic,” she says. “That didn’t stop him from getting a divorce when it was convenient. Of course by then it wasn’t so taboo. Not like in the old days.”
“That’s really interesting,” I say.
“I take it your mother must have been Japanese then?”
“Chinese, actually,” I say. “But she was a second-generation American.”
Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction) Page 71