“I wish there was a way we could just throw a huge party and get married without any of the other bullshit,” Marc said to me one day as we were lying in his bed. I sat up, excited.
“OH MY GOD! Marc! When I was little, my aunt’s best friend threw this really beautiful croquet party in the summer in Lake Geneva and in the middle of the party, she disappeared and when she came back, she was wearing this wedding dress and she and her longtime boyfriend got married right then, in front of everyone! NO ONE EVEN KNEW THEY WERE ENGAGED. It was just a big surprise. And it was so fun!”
He looked at me. “That’s what we should do. Let’s do that. We won’t tell anyone. Maybe our parents. And we’ll just have a party and get married. A surprise wedding.”
I loved the idea, so of course I told Emily and Michelle immediately, and Marc told Abby, who was pregnant with a baby girl. I met the two of them for lunch one afternoon when I was off of work. Abby had a lot of questions: “So, what about a ring? What about a dress? Where?”
I hadn’t thought about any of it really. Except I probably didn’t want a diamond. Not for me, I thought! After lunch, the three of us wandered down Larchmont, the street we were eating on, and stopped in at an antique jewelry store to browse and maybe get an idea of the kinds of rings I would like, even though we agreed I wouldn’t wear it until the wedding day. We wanted it to be a full surprise, and for our friends to not even know we were engaged. The man working there pulled out a beautiful old diamond ring, a mine-cut diamond from 1910 that they’d just gotten in. Marc took the ring to look at it.
“Oh. It won’t fit me,” I said. “My hands are like weird giant hands. Antique rings never fit.”
No sooner had I gotten the words out than Marc had slipped it perfectly on my finger. I looked at the beautiful ring. Wait. WHO didn’t want a diamond? CERTAINLY NOT ME. Marc laughed and shrugged at the man. “Well, I guess I have to buy it now.”
My dress was similarly easy. Abby explained to me that wedding dresses take six months to order and you have to make an appointment to go try them on. But when I called Barneys the girl on the other end said, “Oh. Well, just come in right now. We’re not going to be carrying Vera Wang anymore and all the dresses are samples and seventy-five percent off.”
Abby went with me to Barneys since Emily couldn’t leave work in the middle of the day and I didn’t want to go alone. She wasn’t exactly who I would have picked for such a momentous occasion, but we’d been getting along much better, and whether I liked it or not, she was going to be in my life. I figured I might as well get used to it. We walked into the bridal salon, which only had a few women browsing, since they hadn’t advertised the sale. I pulled a giant Vera Wang couture dress off the rack that looked exactly like the one picture I had torn from a magazine. The saleswoman looked at me approvingly. “You’re only the second person to try this dress on.”
I put it on and she zipped it up. It fit me perfectly. It needed no alterations.
“I think it’s your dress!” Abby said with a smile.
We decided we could fool our friends by having Marc Evite them to a surprise birthday party that he was throwing for me and then when I arrived, I would be in my wedding gown. I googled “COOL DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES LOFTS PARTY VENUE” and when I saw the Marvimon House, I was certain it was it. It looked perfect. It was a place that was mostly used for parties and art openings and secret restaurants, so it didn’t feel “wedding-ish” at all. I called and spoke to Sherri, who owned the place and strangely, they had one weekend open that summer, June 16. It wasn’t my birthday weekend, but it was believable that he would be throwing me a surprise party the weekend before. I booked it. On Abby’s suggestion, we hired Jo Gartin—who was a wedding planner to the stars but also happened to be a friend of ours—to help us.
Keeping a secret is almost impossible for me, but I liked that we were going to surprise all of our friends with this, so I was committed. But still, I wanted to talk about it and there was only so much talking Emily and Michelle wanted to do. Which is why I would sometimes tell random people that I was getting married in a surprise wedding in the summer. Which is how I found myself telling one of the writers on ER, sitting on set one day. I told her all about our plan and how excited I was and how our friends had no idea. A month later, I got a script in which my character was supposed to THROW A SURPRISE WEDDING FOR LUCA AND ABBY. I was so fucking pissed. Look, this is something writers do all the time, especially TV writers. They have so many stories to fill that when they’re in the writers’ room, they throw out pitches from everywhere, including the actors’ own personal lives (see also: Audrey’s drinking problem, Laurie from Cougar Town’s cake-decorating business). It’s something I’ve gotten used to over the years, but this was outrageous. First off, it was my fucking wedding. Second, the episode would air before my own surprise wedding, so it was weirdly going to look like I stole the idea from the TV show I was currently recurring on! BULLSHIT! It was my idea! I tried saying something to the writer who I had confided in and she shrugged it off. “No. It so didn’t come from you! It’s a coincidence.”
It so did come from me, and it was not a coincidence, but I had no power to get them to change it.
Abby gave birth to a little girl named Phoebe in February, and Marc and I started going over there at night, bringing Abby and Jason food. I would help Abby, who seemed overwhelmed by the baby and was having a terrible time breastfeeding. I loved Phoebe instantly. She would let me hold her and sing to her and rock her. She was colicky and I could get her to burp and calm down and she would fall asleep in my arms while we were all sitting in the living room with takeout. We started calling her PheBones and then Bonesy for short. Even Marc, who had a hard time with babies and had even expressed that he was “on the fence” about having kids of his own, was no match for baby Phoebe. She adored Marc and would coo and smile and blow bubbles when he took her. It was because of Phoebe that I knew Marc would become an amazing father and was no longer on the fence. It was because of Phoebe that every last bit of weirdness I had lingering toward Abby melted away. And it was because of Phoebe that I realized sometimes, family presents itself in ways you aren’t expecting.
One day, I met Colin for lunch. I wanted to tell him I was getting married. We hadn’t spoken much in the few years before. Understandably, it took some time for him to want to see me or hang out. We met at Kings Road Cafe and after I told him my news he congratulated me and said, “I just actually started dating someone. I really, really like her. Like, I don’t know. . . . This feels different.”
Her name was Samantha and, two years later, they would end up getting married, too. I promised that the four of us would get dinner soon.
I had auditioned for a movie that would be shooting right before my wedding called Made of Honor that Patrick Dempsey was attached to star in. I had always loved him. His movies from when I was a kid were some of my favorites. And I liked the part, but I auditioned for the movie not particularly caring whether or not I got cast, since I was getting married and that seemed like a much bigger deal to me. My lack of caring is probably exactly why I got the part. The schedule for the film was moving around, and a large part of the movie was to be filmed in the U.K., which I was actually really excited about, but I had to tell Lorrie and Mark about the surprise wedding so they could make sure I would be cleared and in Los Angeles on those dates.
“Oh yeah, Busy, you should be finished by then.”
But of course, as often happens with movies, the whole schedule shifted around, and as it turned out, I was needed in THE ISLE OF SKYE, SCOTLAND, to shoot the week of my wedding. The production and producers felt terrible, so they arranged for me to have a car waiting when I wrapped on Thursday night to drive me the almost six hours to Glasgow, where I would have to catch a 6 a.m. flight Friday morning to London in order to make the 10 a.m. flight to Los Angeles, landing me in Los Angeles around 3 p.m. Friday, roughly twenty-seven hours BEFORE MY OWN FUCKING WEDDING. If I missed any of my flights
, or if any part was delayed, I would possibly miss my own wedding. I was so stressed out about it before I left for Scotland that I tried on my wedding dress and it FELL OFF OF ME. I knew I had been losing weight, but this was ridiculous. Also, I am not generally someone who loses weight from stress but this was different. I took the dress in to a tailor to get it taken in. I would have to land and go straight there and try it on again the day before the wedding.
The Isle of Skye was beautiful, and because of jet lag and nerves from the fact that I was getting married in five days, I barely slept. Whitney Cummings and I had become fast friends in the three weeks of shooting leading up to our trip to Scotland. She and I would wake up super early and run five miles through sheep fields before our work day began. On the Thursday morning I was to leave, there was a mysterious note on the call sheet: “MIDGES EXPECTED TODAY. BE PREPARED AND COVER YOURSELF AND CAMERA EQUIPMENT PROPERLY.” Midges, as it turns out, are horrible little bugs that swarm and bite. They’re tiny, like gnats, except when they descend on a place it looks like a gray cloud has covered the area. I had spent hundreds of dollars in the months leading up to my wedding to ensure my skin was clear and beautiful. I wasn’t about to get bit on the face by a midge! Whitney and I covered ourselves in netting, removing it only when we had to film.
The day was almost over and the car was waiting to speed through the Scottish countryside to take me to get married when all of a sudden I felt a sting on my chin.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed.
Whitney ran over and looked at my face, “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.” She paused. “Maybe you call your dermatologist when you land and get a cortisone shot??”
I had no time to be upset; I had to make the twenty-hour journey back to L.A. When I landed and got through customs, I called Dr. Lancer, who had been my dermatologist since I was eighteen. I frantically explained the situation to one of his nurses.
“He’s supposed to leave here in a half hour today, Busy,” she said. “Can you come in tomorrow morning?”
“NO! I’m getting MARRIED TOMORROW! It’s my wedding!!”
He agreed to stay late to see me.
When I got there, the nurse smiled wide at me, “You’re getting married tomorrow? Ali Larter was in here when you called! She was so excited!”
WHAT?! ALI LARTER WAS DATING ONE OF MARC’S GOOD FRIENDS. ALI AND HAYES WERE INVITED TO MY “SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY”!!! Oh my God. Had that fucking midge not only ruined my perfect skin but also just ruined the surprise of my surprise wedding!?! I panicked and called Marc, who panicked and told me I had to call Ali and tell her they’d misunderstood but that I had found out about the birthday party but not to tell anyone because I wanted Marc to still think he really surprised me. It was the best I could do. To this day, I’m not sure if she bought it or not, but she assured me she wouldn’t say anything to anyone else, even Hayes.
That night, we ate at Hamburger Hamlet in a private room and Marc’s parents and my parents met for the first time. My mother and Marc’s dad instantly hit it off. “Well, Arnie is just fantastic, isn’t he?! Pat is great, too! They both are!” My mom was right: in terms of in-laws, I really won the lottery. We had arranged it so that our families would stay hidden for the actual surprise, since we thought their presence would cause suspicion. We had told a few people who lived far away about the wedding, since we didn’t expect them to fly cross-country for my surprise birthday party. Marc’s friends from high school came in, as did Rachel Davidson and Kate and her husband, and obviously, Michelle was there. Heath was just beginning to work on The Dark Knight so he didn’t come. I had actually seen Heath the month before, though, when we were both in Chicago. He was shooting a sequence for The Dark Knight and I was shooting exteriors for ER. We had lunch at his hotel and he showed me some of his journals he was working on for the movie. I told him I hoped he would make it in for the wedding, but he didn’t think it would be possible and I understood.
Marc stayed at his own house that night, because I thought it would be fun for him to see me for the first time at my surprise entrance. In the morning, I woke up and checked my face. No sign of the midge bite: Dr. Lancer had worked a miracle. Emily and Leigh Ann and Michelle helped me get ready at the Standard Hotel downtown, close to the space where the party was. Leigh Ann and Emily went over to the venue early. When Michelle and I got the call from Marc that everyone was there, we went down to my waiting car and headed over. I kept breathing really hard, deep long breaths to steady myself. We had photographers as well as someone shooting the wedding on Super 8 film, and in the video you can see me breathing in and out so deliberately.
The ruse that everyone was told was that I thought Michelle was taking me to an art opening but really it was my own surprise birthday party. But of course, the surprise would turn out to be on all of our friends. Marc and I had planned a perfect party, with our favorite restaurant catering and cucumber martinis and so many colorful flowers, including marigolds, my favorite since childhood when my mom would plant them in the front yard of our Chicago home.
Marc was the best person I had ever met; of course I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. We had written our vows together and he had sweetly put them in Final Draft, the script software, so that I could read them like a script. But I didn’t need to act the part. I was ready for the next chapter of my life. I was ready to start my own family. I couldn’t wait to say those vows and to hear them said to me. I was a girl who had always wanted to get married, had always thought about what her wedding would be like. And here it was, finally. About to happen.
We pulled up, and as planned, Michelle ran in ahead of me, through a giant curtain. It was totally silent and for a second I was alone. I took one last deep breath and then I walked through the curtain to Marc, who was waiting for me on the other side.
WHILE YOU WAIT FOR THE OTHERS
(Grizzly Bear)
We realized in August that we had actually forgotten to sign and submit our wedding license, so we had lunch at the Chateau with Phil Pavel, who married us, and Emily and Abby as our witnesses, and signed it there. Weirdly, Heath was having lunch there, too, at the table next to ours, and we laughed that he had somehow managed to make it to our wedding anyway. He and Michelle were in the process of separating at that point, and I felt sad for both of them but weirdly like something would be figured out and it wasn’t the end of the story for them. They were so young and that baby was the light of both of their lives. They were just working all the time and it was complicated. Shit is always complicated. Especially when you’re twenty-eight. And movie stars. With a baby.
I had decided not to return to ER for the full season, since we felt like with the work I was doing, I should be made a regular and paid as such. They didn’t agree and were paying me less than half of my television quote. I’d worked hard to get my TV quote and I didn’t think it was fair to go under it.
Soon it was clear that there was about to be a writers’ strike. A writers’ strike meant that all production on TV would effectively stop, including the pilot season for that coming year. There would be a truncated one, for things that were commenced or written before the strike. It also meant there would be fewer movies shot.
One night, I turned to Marc. “Should I have a baby?”
He looked over at me.
“I mean. Maybe?”
“Have you ever gotten someone pregnant on accident?”
“No. I don’t even know if it all works. Why don’t you just go off the pill and we can see what happens?”
Exactly one month later, I sat straight up in bed at three in the morning, because it felt like there was a lightning rod shooting through my stomach.
“HOLY SHIT!”
Marc rolled over groggily. “Whaa? Are you okay??”
“Yeah. Go back to bed. I just got pregnant.”
I had to wait a few weeks to take a test, but those two little lines showed up before I had even stopped peeing
. Marc and Abby had started walking the picket lines with other writers, showing up every day as if it truly was their job. We joked that if the baby was a boy, we should name him Strike. Strike Silverstein is a badass name.
There were some projects hiring despite the strike, so I was still auditioning for movies, mostly while trying to keep my expanding belly hidden under swingy dresses. I auditioned for a movie and they wanted me for a part in it, but when they found out I was pregnant, they said they wouldn’t be able to insure me and offered the part to someone else. I was super bummed. I also was cast in a big animated movie, which I was very excited about, but then was replaced with someone far more famous than I was after I did a day of work on it.
Things weren’t really going my way work-wise, but it was okay, since I was pregnant. Marc had sold his house right after we got married, but now we found ourselves in a bit of a situation, house-wise. My house was great for a single actress living alone but not necessarily the greatest place for a baby. We decided to start looking for a new place, something that we had planned to do anyway at some point. That point was now sooner rather than later. Just like that, we had a looming deadline and needed to figure it out fast. We listed my house. The housing market was taking a little dip, which wasn’t a huge deal and was certainly in our favor as buyers, but our Realtors told us that selling my current house could be a little tricky, especially since I owed so much on it—I had bought it at the peak of the market. We found an amazing house and put in an offer, along with nine other prospective buyers. I wrote an impassioned letter about how much I needed this house, how I wanted to raise my children in this house, how this was absolutely OUR HOUSE, and our offer was accepted. Being the daughter of a Realtor paid off! And it was a very sparkly letter.
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