by Elaine Viets
“Where’s she going?” Helen said.
“She takes trips out of town. Mostly senior bus tours. Last time she went to the casinos in Tunica.”
“Mom is gambling?” Helen asked.
“She won thirty-five dollars—and gave it to the church.”
“Does she have a gambling problem?” Helen asked.
“No,” Kathy said. “She just gets on a bus and disappears for a while. My big fear is she’ll go somewhere without telling us and have a heart attack or something.”
“How can I help?” Helen asked.
“You can’t. But please understand if we have to put her in an institution.”
“You’ll have more than my understanding,” Helen said. “I’ll pay half the bills.”
Helen hiccupped and realized she’d better quit drinking or she would have a hangover tomorrow. She nearly dropped her wineglass when she heard a high, squeaky voice shriek, “Mommy!”
“That’s my name,” Kathy said. “Don’t wear it out.”
Allison came running up in a pink ruffled swimsuit, carrying her Little Mermaid sand castle set. A tired Tommy followed, dragging his gator.
“You got some sun,” Helen said.
“We saw a real fish in the ocean,” Allison said. “Daddy said it was a snapper, but it didn’t snap at me. We saw pelicans and I built me a sand castle and—”
“Easy now,” Kathy said. “Don’t trip over your tongue.”
The kids had had a good time. Now they were tired and cranky. Kathy shooed them inside to shower and change while Uncle Phil broiled hamburgers for dinner. Allison managed to eat half a burger before she fell asleep at dinner again. Tommy Junior wolfed down two, but looked sleepy.
Tom carried the kids to bed. “They’re both asleep,” he said. “I left the blinds open so we could check on them.”
“Steaks are ready,” Phil said. He was wearing a chef’s apron and carrying a long-handled fork. Kathy, Tom, Helen and Phil settled in to juicy steaks, roasted potatoes, baked beans and tossed salad.
“Dinner is done to perfection,” Tom said. “Sure beats road food.”
They sipped their drinks contentedly and listened to the chirping crickets. Tom slapped at a mosquito, and Helen lit a citronella candle. Kathy caught her yawning in the candlelight.
“Time for you to go to bed,” she said. “Tomorrow is an important day.”
“Can I say good night to my niece and nephew?” Helen asked.
“I hope they’re still asleep,” Kathy said. “But you can peek at them through the blinds.”
Helen looked at the sleeping children curled up in the roll-away beds. Tommy had his arm flung around the inflatable gator. “I can’t believe how much Allison looks like you, Kathy,” Helen said. “She even has your nose. Tommy Junior looks like a little angel.”
“That’s because he’s asleep,” his father said.
“Good night,” Helen said. “And thank you both for being here.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Kathy said, and hugged her sister.
“Hey, do I get a hug, too?” Phil asked.
“If you walk me home,” Helen said.
He kissed Helen at Margery’s door. “This is our last night apart,” Helen said. “Tomorrow, we’ll be together forever.”
The next morning, Helen opened the kitchen door to see her wedding day.
The sky was clear blue with a few cotton-ball clouds. The sun was warm, maybe a little too warm, but the air would be cooler at seven that evening. Helen watched Phil and her brother-in-law set the white rented folding chairs in rows. Long tables draped in white were grouped alongside the pool.
The two men were sweating in the sun, drinking beer and joking. Helen was pleased to see her groom getting along with Tom. Her brother-in-law had never criticized her ex-husband, but Helen knew Tom didn’t like Rob. They rarely spoke, much less joked.
Her sister, Kathy, waded in the shallow end of the pool, splashing in the water with Allison, while Tommy Junior pretended to wrestle his inflatable green gator. They waved at Helen.
Margery carried out a basket of plastic forks and knives wrapped in napkins.
“Can’t I do something?” Helen asked.
“Stay out of my way,” Margery said.
Helen studied the bruise on her forehead in Margery’s living room mirror. It was turning an ugly yellow-green. She paced and fretted and tried to read a magazine, and finally fell asleep. At three o’clock, her landlady woke her up. “It’s time for you to get ready. I’ll drive you to the salon.”
“Phil can drive me.”
“No, I need him to help set things up,” Margery said.
Helen showered, threw on her jeans and a shirt. Margery dropped her off at the salon. “I’ll come back for you at six,” her landlady said.
“Here comes the bride,” Ana Luisa said when she saw Helen. The phone rang and the curvy blond receptionist made a dive for it.
“The MTV dancers want an appointment with Miguel Angel next week,” she said.
“The salon is so busy,” Helen said. “Do you have time for me when there are paying customers waiting?”
“Let them wait,” Ana Luisa said. “They wouldn’t be here except for you. They could have made appointments earlier.”
Miguel Angel greeted Helen with a kiss and a warm hug, a great compliment from a man who didn’t like to be touched by clients.
“Wash Helen’s hair, Carlos,” he said. “I’ll be finished in a minute.”
He was blowdrying the hair of a fifty-something woman. “Well, what do you think?” he asked. He handed his client, Elaine Frances, a hand mirror so she could see the back of her hair in the salon mirror. She studied the cut, front and back.
“Perfect. Cheaper than a facelift,” Elaine said. “And no telltale scars. You’re the only man for me.”
Miguel Angel laughed. Carlos dusted off the chair, and Helen sat down.
“I’m not the only man for you, am I?” Miguel Angel said.
“No, but you’re in the top five,” Helen said. “Thanks for giving me yesterday off. Kathy and I had a good time.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “You enjoy your sister. You should spend more time with her.”
Miguel Angel combed Helen’s wet hair away from her face and began putting on her makeup. First, he carefully covered her face with foundation. “How is the wedding going?” he asked.
“I had a fight Thursday with Phil over something stupid,” Helen said.
“Good,” he said. “You’ve got that out of the way. Now you can enjoy your wedding.” When Miguel Angel decided her face was evenly covered, he drew those startling dark lines at Helen’s jawline, nose and under her cheekbones, the way he did for Honey. Then he began shading shadows with a triangular sponge into her round, rather flat face.
“I’m worried,” Helen said.
“Why?You don’t think Phil will leave you at the altar? Look up.” He lined her eyelids with dark blue.
“No. But I can’t get it out of my head that something will go wrong.”
“It will,” Miguel Angel said. “Keep looking up. No, don’t blink.” He swore softly in Spanish, then used a Q-tip to remove the smeared eyeliner. “Something always goes wrong at a wedding ceremony. Your best man will forget the ring. A baby will cry. The florist will forget to send a bouquet. But you’ll still get married.”
“My other marriage was a disaster,” Helen said.
“But it’s over. You’re not that woman anymore. You are older and wiser and you’ve chosen a better man. Look up.” Miguel Angel touched her eyelashes with mascara, then painted her lips raspberry red. He added a dusting of blusher.
“Now you are a blushing bride,” he said.
“You had to paint that blush on,” she said.
Miguel Angel pulled out his blowdryer and pretended not to hear as he dried her dark hair in sections, pulling it smooth with his powerful wrists. He was finished in half an hour. She had a shining, shoulder-length mane,
sleek and silky. There was no sign of the shaved patch of hair.
He dabbed under her eyes with a makeup sponge. “There,” Miguel Angel said. “You look perfect.”
Margery suddenly appeared behind him. “You do look damn good,” she said. “I can’t even see the bruise on your forehead.”
Helen could. She felt as if that area was outlined in neon.
“I’ll stop by your apartment and put on your veil just before the ceremony,” Miguel Angel said. “You’re getting married at seven, right?”
“How can you go to my wedding?” Helen asked. “Your salon is full of customers. Isn’t that an MTV dancer sitting on your couch? And that brunette is a reality TV star—what’s her name?”
“What’s-her-name is right,” Miguel Angel said. “She’ll be forgotten in a month. None of them would be here if you hadn’t cleared my name. Last week, I was poison. Now everyone wants me. They can wait.”
Helen stood up and swayed slightly.
“What’s wrong?” Margery asked. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“Coffee and aspirin,” Helen said.
“Nourishing,” Margery said. “You’re going to eat before you collapse on me.”
“But what about my lipstick?” Helen said.
“Here.” Miguel Angel handed Helen a small pot of lipstick. “Take this. And eat something, please.”
Margery dragged Helen to a nearby sandwich shop, where she picked at a chicken sandwich. After ten minutes, Margery said, “Have you finished torturing that chicken?”
“I can’t eat,” Helen said.
“Then let’s go. You’re getting married—for better or worse.”
Chapter 33
“Ick!” Helen brushed away a cobweb on her shoulder. “That’s a big hairy spider. Why are we taking the Dumpster route to your place?”
“Because I don’t want you to see the yard before your wedding,” Margery said. “It’s a surprise.”
“The spider was definitely a surprise,” Helen said.
“Quit grumping,” Margery said. “It’s just a bug. The spider is harmless unless you’re a fly.”
The back route to Margery’s apartment was a narrow walkway lined with items that should have been hauled to the dump ages ago—broken lawn chairs, an old water heater, a car tire and rusted yard tools, all wreathed in spook-house spiderwebs.
“I could blindfold you and take you through the front entrance, but that would smear the paint job on your face.” Margery unlocked the door to her laundry room, and she and Helen stepped around a laundry basket, an old lamp and a broken bedstead.
“I have to change into my ministerial robe,” Margery said. “Put on your wedding dress and then we’ll go outside.”
“Do we get to use the door, or do I have to crawl out the window?” Helen asked.
“Don’t be smart,” Margery said. “Phil, Tom and Kathy worked all afternoon getting the yard ready for this wedding. I want you to look properly surprised.”
“Were the flowers delivered?” Helen asked.
“Yes, and the wedding cake. The food is on the tables. Phil got the ice for the drinks. Peggy and Elsie are here and so are their escorts. Kathy, Tom and the kids are fine. Phil is changing into his tux. So far, he hasn’t come to his senses and fled. Let me run my aging carcass through the shower and then you’ll get married.”
Helen washed the cobwebs off her arms and ran a washcloth over her legs. Her makeup was miraculously untouched. She took her wedding dress out of the plastic bag. She was surprised by its simple beauty, and glad Margery had bullied her into buying a new dress. A new life needed a fresh start.
She slipped on her dress and sandals and looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad for a forty-two-year-old bride, she thought. Not bad at all. Miguel Angel’s makeup job took off at least ten years. She took her veil out of the box and checked it for wrinkles, then carefully refolded it.
Helen knocked on Margery’s bedroom door and asked,“Would you zip me up, please?”
“Come in,” Margery said.
Helen stopped dead at the sight of her landlady in a Roman collar and purple satin robe.
“Well, what do you think?” Margery asked, and twirled once.
“Incredible,” Helen said.
“I think so, too.” Margery zipped Helen’s dress and latched the hook at the top, then said, “You look lovely.”
“Thanks.” Helen could feel her eyes tearing.
“Don’t you dare cry, Helen, and ruin Miguel Angel’s makeup. Go sit in the living room and I’ll be right out.”
A knock on the kitchen door announced the stylist’s entrance. Margery led him into the living room. “You look beautiful,” Miguel Angel said to the bride.
“Thanks to your makeup job,” Helen said.
“I needed something to work with. How are you?” Miguel Angel asked.
“Nervous,” Helen said. “But it will be over soon.”
“It’s a wedding, not a dental appointment,” Margery said.
Miguel Angel dabbed at Helen’s face with a makeup sponge and touched up her lipstick with a brush. “Should I put on the veil?” he asked.
“Yes,” Helen said. “Though you did such a good job with my hair, it’s a shame to cover it.”
She opened the box and handed him the veil. He pinned it in place, and finally said, “Perfect. I’ll go outside and sit down.”
“There are no special covers for these chairs,” Helen said.
“I like them better naked,” Miguel Angel said, and gave her another hug.
“All ready?” Margery asked. “It’s showtime.”
Helen opened the kitchen door. The evening sun had turned the Coronado a delicate seashell pink. The light had the surreal clarity seen just before a subtropical sunset.
Helen’s nephew, Tommy, was pink with sunburn, and sporting a new pair of khaki shorts and blue knit top. She could see the comb tracks in his damp hair. Tommy sat in a chair outside her apartment, solemnly guarding a pet caddy and a plate of cut-up cooked shrimp. The shrimp were Phil’s wedding feast for the six-toed cat. Helen could see Thumbs through the bars of his cage, furiously trying to tear a white bow off his neck with his giant paws.
Tommy began feeding shrimp to the irate cat to distract him. Helen smiled at her nephew. “You’re doing a terrific job, cat wrangler.”
Tommy grinned and looked like a younger version of his father.
Helen finally saw the backyard. “It’s gorgeous. The lights, the candles, the flowers. You ordered extra flowers didn’t you?”
“A few,” Margery said. “I grew my own bougainvillea.”
The aisle was lined with blazing tiki torches. Each torch stand was decorated with a big white satin bow. The wedding bouquets were laid out on the umbrella table.
The long tables were laden with a feast. Helen saw a roast turkey, a spiral ham, an enormous bowl of Peggy’s special Thai chicken salad, brownies and the hors d’oeuvres that Helen had ordered. The two un-sliced tomatoes plopped on a plate had to be from Cal. He brought the same thing to every Coronado party.
Sprays of purple bougainvillea and white orchids decorated the tables, and tall white candles in crystal holders cast a soft glow. The tiered wedding cake towered over its own flower-bedecked table, with Phil’s groom’s cake next to it. Helen could see the guitar had a tiny icing carrot as a pick. It looked like the one in the photo on the Clapton Unplugged CD.
A silver tray held a pile of donation cards.
“I love it,” Helen said. The food, the flowers, even the candles had personal meaning. Her friends had given her a dream wedding, and it was so much better than her so-called perfect wedding to Rob.
All of the white chairs were filled by guests. Helen recognized some. Tom Senior was wearing a gray suit, and had Allison on his lap. She wore a frilly blue dress and pulled on her father’s tie. Next to them were Helen’s salon coworkers. Ana Luisa winked at Helen, and the two stylists waved. Carlos smiled, squeezed her hand as she pass
ed, and said softly, “You look beautiful.” The cluster of stern-faced men with short hair could only be Phil’s cop friends. Others she didn’t recognize.
The CD player burst into Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.”
Peggy was first down the aisle, with Pete the parrot on her shoulder. Both Peggy and Pete looked exotic in bright green. Pete eyed Peggy’s bouquet with unnatural interest. Peggy was met at the top of the aisle by her dark-haired escort, Daniel. He looked like a male model in that tux, and he had the kind of curly hair that women liked to ruffle. Helen remembered her mother saying, “Handsome is as handsome does” and hoped that Peggy had finally found the love she deserved.
Helen’s jaw dropped when she saw Elsie. Her senior bridesmaid wore a pale pink tea-length tent dress and dyed-to-match heels. Her hair was a soft silver tipped with pink. Elsie looked triumphant, as if she’d waited her whole life for this moment. She was escorted by a muscular hunk of beefcake in his midtwenties, with blond hair and a jaw you could use as a T-square. Helen could swear she saw his pecs rippling under the tux.
“Where did you get her escort?” Helen whispered to Margery.
“Quiet,” Margery said. “He’s rented for the occasion. He gets a bonus if he keeps her happy.”
“How happy?” Helen asked.
“That’s none of your business,” Margery said.
Helen’s sister, Kathy, wore orchid silk. She was met by Cal in the rented tux paid for by Phil. Cal looked uncomfortable. Kathy looked supremely happy. She smiled at her sister and winked.
Helen barely noticed. She saw Phil, her Phil, in his tuxedo. His silver-white hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had a sprig of bougainvillea in his lapel. His shoulders were broad, and Helen thought they would be nice to lean on for the rest of her life. She walked down the aisle on shaky legs and smiled at her husband-to-be.
“You look wonderful tonight,” she whispered. “Like James Bond at the casino.”
“At Your Majesty’s service,” Phil whispered back.
“Shut up you two,” Margery hissed,“so I can get you married.” Her cigarette sent up smoke like incense. Margery crushed it, and glared the wedding guests into silence.