by Amy Teegan
“Sophie! Honey, bring me one more beer and then we’ll be ready to go.”
Sophie hopes that is true. She turns off the TV and carries another cold beer into the bedroom. The bottle opener still rests on the nightstand from the last one. She hands over the drink and settles in to watch her mother. She is so beautiful. Sophie hopes that someday she can be half as pretty as her mom.
“Are we almost ready, Mom? Should I put my shoes on?”
“You don’t have your shoes on?” Her mom looks sharply at her while still fastening her earrings. “Yes, go. Get your shoes. I don’t want to have to wait for you. We need to go get Great-grandpa.”
Sophie finds her special flower girl shoes in a box on her dresser and hears her mom call after her, “And grab a jacket, too, just in case.”
Shoes? Jacket? Ok, she’s ready.
“Ok, honey? You ready? Shit, we were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago. And we still need to get food. McDonald’s OK? Ah well. Fuck it. Where are my keys? God, I hope Siri knows where we’re going.”
Sophie bounces a little on her toes. This is it! In just a few hours she will get to walk down the aisle with her basket of flowers. Her mom quickly swallows the last bit of her third beer and ushers them out the door.
4:00pm Dylan
Dylan walks up the long gravel driveway to the Spanish-style house where he will be working for the evening. At the beginning of the year, not long after he turned sixteen, his mom had gotten him a job with one of the caterers she worked with. He has already worked at five different weddings that his mom has coordinated. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s kind of cool of her to get him a job somewhere other than directly with her. And he discovered that he’s actually a pretty good waiter.
Waiting tables at events is different than at restaurants, he assumes, but he likes it for the most part. Especially weddings. Everyone is so happy to be there at all; there’s very little complaining, no one sending back food, or acting entitled. This could be a good job for a few years for him. He actually doesn’t mind working.
Tonight is different, though. Dylan doesn’t want to see his mom. She has driven away his dad and he’s frustrated with her. He almost thought about calling his boss and telling her he’s sick from work tonight, but he likes Cheryl well enough to not want to punish her for his mom’s actions.
His mom stands in the center of the path in front of the house, watching the groom get his photo taken. She notices him, and smiles in greeting, but turns her attention immediately back to her client.
She could at least say hi. He walks right up to his mom until he is standing close at her elbow.
“I talked do Dad,” he says pointedly.
She looks at him, surprised. “Ok, Dylan. We’ll talk about it. But I’m working right now.” She looks away, continuing in a hushed voice. “And so are you. Let’s stay professional, please.”
His mom can be such a cold bitch sometimes.
“Fine. Whatever.”
He starts to walk away, but he is just too angry. He can not let her get away with this.
“But, you know what?” he says, turning back around. “He has the right idea. I think he should move out. And as soon as he has a place I’m moving too.” Dylan keeps his voice as cold and unfeeling as he can. Just like hers. He can’t trust himself to say any more without crying or yelling at her, so he walks away.
He wants his mom to call after him. To run after him and hug him and tell him she’s sorry and explain everything. He just wants his parents to be parents and fix this. He feels the tears coming now. He doesn’t look back.
4:09pm Leah
Leah watches Dylan walk away, back to the driveway behind the house where the caterer’s truck is parked. He’s already taller than Joe, but still has that sweet teenager awkwardness to his movements. Like a baby bird, that has not yet gotten accustomed to his long limbs and is only barely hanging on to his balance. Leah sees the little boy in his walk, still. But now her son has to grow up too quickly and it breaks her heart.
She tries to fight back tears. “Shoot!” she whispers, gently dabbing the tears from her eyes to try not to smear her makeup. It kills her to have to put her son through this.
It’s not your fault, she reminds herself. Joe is doing this this to our family.
She stands to one side of the dance floor (or, rather, tiled patio outside the kitchen), in the shade of the house. Holding her hand up to block the sun is the only way she can see what her team is doing. The angle of the sunset is beaming down perfectly in her eyes. The tables, chairs, centerpieces and individual favors are all set up. Everything appears to be done for now.
She’s not needed at the moment.
Tomorrow, or as soon as she can after this wedding day was over, Leah will sit Dylan down and explain everything. Well, as much as she can considering she doesn’t even know what is really going on. It’s a shame they have driven separately. A ride home would have been the perfect opportunity.
Leah checks her phone. No text from Joe, still. He could have at least warned her that he told Dylan. Leaving their son to do his own dirty work.
“Shoot,” she says again as she feels more tears fall down her cheeks.
Her phone says 4:09; they are still waiting for a couple groomsmen, so the photographers are running much later than schedule. At the moment, Leah doesn’t think there is anything she can do. She turns away from the group to try to dry her tears and compose herself. She focuses on watching the photographer and putting Dylan out of her mind.
4:37pm Kristy
“Alright, guys.” Kristy struggles to be heard over the din of the laughing and joking and ass slapping.
What is it with guys and ass slapping?
“Hey! Gentlemen? It’s after four thirty. Let’s do this quick and I’ll release you to the bar!”
The groom and groomsmen had trickled in over the previous forty minutes. Slowly. Striding up the long driveway, many of them carrying their tux jackets instead of wearing them because it’s already so hot. Excuses of traffic and wives and kids and at least two of them smell like Taco Bell. The blond one named Blake and the tall one — Kristy thinks his name is Ricky — are doing her job of scolding the others. Even the groom is getting a good-natured telling off.
“Stu! Get the fuck off the phone, bro!” Blake calls. The other groomsman has wandered back down the driveway, trying to find a quiet place to talk to his wife.
The boys are all here, but she still has not been able to get them started. Forget the fact that she intended to have finished these photos about ten minutes ago so she can move on to some family photos before the ceremony starts.
Chaos. Just like every other wedding.
Kristy just watches the boys for a few seconds, picking up on names and power dynamics. Ian is the loud one (and the bride’s brother), and there’s Ricky, Jason, Stuart and two more whose names she doesn’t catch. Blake is the quiet one. The bride’s other brother and blond like Lindsay. There’s always at least one groomsman she can recruit to be on her side and relay instructions for her. She’ll count on Blake to be that one if she needs it. A couple of the bridesmaids have come down to watch — their boyfriends or husbands evidently also being members of the wedding party — but having an audience does not help. Ian seems to know exactly where they stand and plays it up for their benefit. At least Marta is getting good shots. She can quietly and stealthily get candid pictures through this mess.
Once she is sure they have all said their hellos, Kristy picks out Ryan. He’s enjoying his wedding, and doesn’t seem to be anxious, which makes her job a little easier. She puts one hand on his arm to get his attention and flashes her most charming smile.
“Ryan? You ready? Can you come over here, please?”
She poses him against a backdrop of the house, and takes a step back.
The afternoon light is peeking over the top of the house at just the perfect angle. If she positions Ryan right … here, the whitewash texture of the buildi
ng adds interest to the background, the backlight shines perfectly and the bougainvillea creeping up the wall frames the subject. Perfect.
She takes a couple simple groom-only shots to test the light and then Kristy calls to the others.
“Boys! C’mere and fill in around Ryan!”
Seven tipsy twenty-something men stumble in her direction. Again with the ass slapping. They certainly can not pose themselves, so Kristy takes a minute to change places, direct chins and hands. Make Ian take off his sunglasses.
Every weekend is the exact same story with a different cast. Every group of groomsmen she photographs is a variation on this theme. If she were an anthropologist, or somehow disconnected it could be fascinating. The ritual? The roles? The way personalities can change simply because it is a wedding day?
But as it is, the whole situation annoys her. They are adults. She should not have to tell at least one person every single weekend to spit out his gum. Does he think she can’t see him through her camera?
Kristy steps back to confer with Marta. They will not get another chance at this ever, so they need to make sure it was right. Nothing weird in the background? Does the group look balanced? Is the light hitting them from a flattering angle?
Ian makes some joke that she doesn’t hear. Ryan calls to his dad to bring him another beer. Only Blake stands quietly, waiting for Kristy.
Blake is her favorite.
“Ok, guys, ready? You look great! You feel pretty? I’m just going to take a bunch of photos so keep smiling ’til I tell you to stop. Only look at my camera. I don’t care who is behind me. Ready? Look at me!”
Kristy leans forward slightly so the camera is lower and the guys’ proportions would be correct in the image. As she does, she hears Ian crack another joke.
“Yeah, look at her jugs! Right below the camera, ha ha! An old photographer’s trick.”
Kristy’s heart thumps.
She hears nothing else. She has no idea if anyone laughs at the ‘joke.’
What just happened?
There is a beat of silence before she responds, trying to sound light-hearted but still not removing her face from behind the camera.
“Yeah, well, if that makes you smile at the camera.”
Kristy barely hears a small smattering of laughter around her as she finishes up a couple more shots. She stands up straight. She feels like all eyes are on her, staring at her chest. She tugs at the neck of her dress, worried that it is too low. She had deliberately added a layer of a tank top underneath her dress to make the neckline higher, but obviously that doesn’t matter to this pig.
“Ok, um.” She’s flustered and can’t remember what she needs to do next. “Marta? Do you have the shot list?”
Marta hurries forward, folded paper in hand. “You ok?” she whispers as they bent their heads together over the list.
“I guess. What an ass. But, really?”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Kristy takes a deep breath to reorient herself. Ok, shots with each individual groomsman now. She can do this. She flashes her charming smile again and steps forward to direct the drunks.
4:49pm Amber
That idiot is just standing there on the lawn checking his phone. As soon as it is clear the photographer no longer needs him, Amber walks over to Ian and punches him in the arm.
“Hey!” he says, actually taking his sunglasses off to look at her.
“What is wrong with you? You can’t just say that to people!”
“What’s wrong with you? Why’d you punch me?”
“You can’t talk to the photographer like that.”
“Like what?”
“Oh for christsake. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about? How can you not remember?”
“Remember what? You’re acting crazy.”
“Ian. You told everyone here to look at the photographer’s ‘jugs.’”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did. Ask anyone. I cannot believe you.”
“Why?” He grins. “You jealous?”
Amber rolls her eyes. Again, last night’s mistake comes back to haunt her. “No, I’m not jealous. I’m appalled. You shouldn’t say that to anyone. Let alone a stranger. A stranger who is currently working for your sister.”
“Relax. I’m sure she thought it was funny. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal, you idiot. Do you know it is actually in her contract that she can leave if she is harassed by guests? And then Ryan and Lindsay are screwed. You may have just totally fucked up everything.”
Ian stares at her, either unbelieving that she is telling the truth or unbelieving that she is making such a big deal. With Ian it could be either.
“And then you would owe them the few thousand dollars they spent on photography,” Amber continues.
He puts his hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok. I get it. I was bad.” He grins.
“Ugh. You are hopeless.”
“No, really. I’ll take care of it. But I’ve been meaning to talk to you, too.” Amber dreads whatever is coming next. “So …. Last night?”
“Thank you for the ride last night. And that is all.”
“Do you need a ride home tonight?”
“No. Go apologize to the photographer.”
“Hey, hey.” He tries to take her hand. “Don’t change the subject. You look hot in that dress, by the way.”
“Ian. Just … stop. Last night was a mistake. Do not talk to me about it again. And go apologize.”
Amber walks away. He calls after her but she ignores him. He is not her responsibility. It is not her turn to babysit him. Let Blake or Ryan handle it. She knows from experience, Ian is exactly the kind of guy that will disregard anything any female tries to tell him. Trying to help him learn how to drive had been a joke.
Once more she reminds herself how stupid the previous night had been. You’re a fool, Amber, she tells herself.
4:52pm Ian
Ian watches Amber walk away. Overreacting. Typical. She has always been overdramatic.
There’s no way she’s right, he thinks. The photographer chick can’t just leave. Even if I did say something.
A few feet away, she photographs Ryan by himself, contorting her body at weird angles. As Ian watches, she straightens up and pulls on the neckline of her dress. She glances at him and blushes. He grins; he loves having that effect on girls.
Amber can’t possibly be right. He wonders if the photographer is single. She probably would welcome an excuse to take a break and talk to him, right?
But then there’s also Amber. If he gives her the attention she wants, he can hook up again with her tonight. But on the other hand there is also one other single bridesmaid who he has barely spoken to and who knows who else will show up as a guest. God, too many choices.
Ian grins. He needs to focus his energy. Nothing will happen if he tries to go after all of them.
He watches the photographer for a little while longer. She is conferring with the other one. They seem to be just waiting. Maybe now is a good time to go talk to her.
Before he can make up his mind to go do it, Ian spots Amber on the other side of the crowd talking to Blake. They are both looking at him.
Ian is a little irritated at the bridesmaid dresses. Lindsay should have told him. The whole thing doesn’t match his groomsmen fantasy expectation at all. Far too sombre and too much fabric. Maybe that’s what Amber’s problem is — she hates her dress.
Ian decides to ignore whatever Blake and Amber are saying about him. He looks around quickly. No else notices him and no one seems to be telling him to do anything, so he makes another trip to the bar before they do.
5:09pm Sophie
“Soph, read me the address again, please.”
“18453 Pendleton Lane.” Sophie tries to look at all the houses on either side of the street, but her mom drives too fast. They are all so big and fancy. They must be big enough for, like, three or four families to live in. The driveways
are big enough for, maybe, ten cars, probably. She doesn’t think she has ever been in a neighborhood like this before. She wonders if they have pools or if the kids that live in these houses have TVs in their bedrooms. There would be plenty of room for a dog if she lived in a house like this.
“Did you remember to grab my phone charger again, Soph?”
Sophie feels her eyes get wide. “Um, no Mom. Sorry.”
Her mom sighs loudly. “Damn it, Sophie.” Great-grandpa looks at her, startled. “Alright. Fine. Maybe Ryan will have one I can borrow real quick.”
Sophie keeps quiet while her mom peers at each address on the right side of the street.
“Here it is,” she says triumphantly, pulling into the driveway. The long gravel driveway makes a funny crunching sound under the car tires. Sophie tries to peer out the window to see what it looks like.
“Ok, I’m going to drop you two off so you don’t have to walk so far and then go park the car.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Yes, thank you, Karen, dear.”
“Of course,” she pats Great-grandpa’s hand. “Sophie, it’s already after five so be sure you tell Ryan and Lindsay you’re sorry you’re late. Tell them there was traffic. There’s always traffic.”
Most of her family is standing in front of the house. Some are having their photos taken. Some are just standing around and talking, drink in hand. Sophie can only remember the names of about half of the people she can see. She wishes her mom were with her, but the car is already about to pull onto the street. Sophie takes her great-grandfather’s hand and walks with him slowly over to where most of the crowd stands. She feels shy and scared all of a sudden. Why hadn’t she thought to ask about pictures? Does she have to do anything special? Is everyone going to be staring at her?