No Day Like Today

by Amy Teegan

  A lady dressed all in black and holding a big camera came up to her. “Hi, I’m Marta. Are you Sophie?”

  Sophie nods.

  “Well, Sophie, I really like your dress. Is this your grandpa?”

  “Great-grandfather,” he says, shaking her hand. “Marshall Page.”

  “Really? Wow. Nice to meet you. It’s so great you’re here. We should be ready for you for photos any second. Sophie, I’m going to let Kristy who is the other photographer know you’re here ok? Mr. Page, can I get you a chair or water or something?”

  Sophie doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She wanders a few steps away, watching a bunch of boys hanging around her mom’s cousin Ryan. They are all dressed alike, except there is one wearing sunglasses.

  She clasps her hands together, ducking her head slightly to try to stay small and invisible. Those boys look like they’re having fun and she wants to hear what they are doing.

  “Ian. Dude, hey.” Sophie watches the tallest boy walk over to the one wearing sunglasses and hit him gently in the arm. “You got the stuff? For the car?”

  “Huh?”

  They’re both whispering, but not very quietly. Sophie can still hear all of it. They keep looking at Ryan, though. Probably to make sure he can’t hear anything.

  “The pens. The balloons. Did you get the stuff?”

  “Oh. Shit. … No.”

  “Come on, Ian. I asked you to do one thing!”

  “I know. And I went there. I just … I dunno. Got distracted?”

  “You got distracted? At a party supply store.”

  “Oh, is that what they sold?” The grin under his sunglasses widens. “‘Cause I just left with this girl’s number.”

  “You are unbelievable,” the tall boy says, shaking his head. “This is your sister’s wedding. Do you care about other people at all?”

  “C’mon. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Oh, really? Ok. Well you tell your sister that her only wedding is not that big a deal.”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, okay?” Ian says as the other one walks away.

  “Sophie?”

  She starts — did someone hear that boy say the f-word? The lady named Marta stands behind her, leaning down a bit to be on Sophie’s eye level.

  “You ready? Come over here, please. We’re going to take a couple photos of you by yourself and then some in a group, ok?”

  Sophie follows, nervous and excited. The crowd has changed since she started watching Ryan and his friends. But she still doesn’t see her mom.

  5:29pm Marshall

  Marshall is grateful for the ride, but even more grateful to be out of the car. He has never approved of the way his granddaughter speaks around her child. He stands in the grass, waiting to be needed.

  The bride is already hidden away. Guests are arriving, but the schedule seems to be running late. That must be the wedding coordinator hovering behind the photographer, ready to snag the groom as soon as possible.

  Marshall has just taken a couple quick photos with Ryan. One of the photographers has asked him to return to this spot after the ceremony for more family photos. Marshall tries to pay attention and follow directions, but the laughing and joking of his grandsons distracts him. They smell like beer and ignore him.

  But, the photographer has been so sweet to him. She has gone to find him a chair so he won’t have to stand in the sun too long. Marshall hates to be treated like a fragile old person, but sometimes it’s necessary that he give in. He has already been up for so long and had many hours to go.

  A teenage boy dressed in black carries a chair toward him.

  “Are you the grandfather?”

  Marshall shrugs. “Do you see any other old farts?”

  The boy smiles, politely. Marshall isn’t making much of a joke. “Where would you like to sit, sir? On the grass under the tree? Out there in the sun where you can watch what they’re doing?”

  Marshall shrugs again. It doesn’t really matter.

  “What about right here? By the path. You’re still in the shade, but everyone will be able to see you. My name is Dylan, so when you all are done here just have someone come find me and I’ll take the chair. I’ll be in the back working with the caterer.”

  “Thank you, Dylan. That’s very kind. You and the photographer have both been so thoughtful already.”

  “Really?” Dylan looks surprised. “Isn’t this your family?”

  “Oh, yes. But they all have their own lives now. They have other things to worry about, I’m sure. My granddaughter who brought me hasn’t even acknowledged me since she parked the car.”

  Dylan forehead wrinkles down toward his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes. But don’t worry about me, son.” Marshall pats Dylan’s hand that rests on the back of the chair. “I’m used to being alone. After my parents, and then my wife died I’ve had more and more time to get used to it.”

  “Your parents? How long has that been?”

  “Oh, a while.” Marshall pauses, remembering. “Yes, quite awhile. And my wife eleven years ago this summer. But, in my experience your parents and your spouse are the only people in the world who love you whole-heartedly and unreservedly. Your siblings, maybe. I suppose. Your kids, maybe. When they think of it. But your parents brought you into this life and want you to be happy.”

  Dylan listens quietly.

  “Of course, there are exceptions,” Marshall says, watching his granddaughter Karen flirt with one of the groomsmen in sunglasses. He shakes himself out of his reverie. “I’m sorry, son. I’m just jabbering away. It isn’t often that someone actually stops to talk to me. Forgive me. I know you must have work to do.”

  “Thank you, sir. It was really nice to meet you.”

  “My name is Marshall Page. It was nice to meet you too.”

  “Seriously, though. Do you need anything else before I go, Mr. Page? Water? Burrito? Beer?”

  Marshall laughs a little. It feels like a muscle that hadn’t been used in years. “No, thank you. I’ll find you when I’m done with the chair.”

  “Ok. See ya.”

  The boy walks away, back to the house where he no doubt has plenty more to do to prepare for the wedding. Many more important things than standing around talking to an old man. Just before he reaches the house, Marshall sees Dylan makes a sharp turn and walk toward where the bartender is setting up instead. The two boys turn toward Marshall; he sees Dylan pointing at him; the bartender nods and starts walking toward him, bottle of water in hand.

  What a thoughtful young man, Marshall thinks. His mother must be so proud of him.

  5:43pm Leah

  Leah watches her tall, lanky son cross the lawn with his giant strides. Dylan stops by the bar instead of coming straight to Leah like she had asked. She frowns. Oh, but … From the way he points it looks like he is asking for something for a guest. That is okay then. As long as that was all.

  “Hey, Mom. What else do you need?”

  Leah tries not to show that she is surprised. He is still sullen, and he might not realize it but a lot of the anger has gone out of his tone. She blinks a couple times. “Um. Oh, nothing, dear. Thank you. The ceremony is about to start.”

  He just nods and keeps walking, back to where the rest of the waiters keep out of sight until dinner.

  Leah watches him, unable to help thinking about how much he looks like his father. She has always loved that fact before, but today it just seems unnecessarily cruel. Taunting her, almost.

  DJ Dick Hannigan approaches her, hand out-stretched to shake hers. “Mrs. Holder? Are we close? Looks like the last of the guests are making their way to their seats.”

  Mrs. Holder. How much longer will people call her that?

  She checks the time on her phone: 5:43pm. How is it possible they are almost on time after the photography ran so late? Kristy must be really good. Leah turns back to Dick. “Yes. Just a couple minutes. I’ll check that everyone is in place.”

  She finds the groom
smen first. It’s not difficult, since they are all within about ten feet of the bar.

  “It’s time, gentleman. Can I get you to go around to the front of the house? It’s time. Are you ready? Follow Blake around to the front.” She moves swiftly between the men, whispering, gesturing, calmly directing them to where she needs them to be.

  The younger one in the sunglasses is the only hold-out.

  “Hi! Ian, right?” she says. “Ready? It’s time to start. I need you to follow the others, please.”

  “Yeah, ok,” he says, turning away from her. He turns his back completely to Leah, stays right where he was and continues to drink his beer.

  “Um, I’m sorry.” She walks around to be standing in front of him again. “You can take that with you, but I need you to go to the front of the house, please.”

  She puts her hand on his arm not holding the beer and he finally looks at her. Surprised, almost, to see her standing there. “Alright, alright.”

  He swallows the last of his beer in one long gulp, tosses the bottle in the trash on top of several others, and slowly begins his way over to where he is supposed to be.

  “And take off your sunglasses before it starts, please,” she calls after him. He gives no indication that he heard.

  Leah sighs. At least the bridesmaids would be easier; they should all be inside still.

  Leah cuts across the tiled patio, weaving in between the last trickle of guests, and slips into the kitchen via the side door. The room is mostly dark, just one overhead light on above the sink. No one has really been in this part of the house for hours. All the lights are off. As Leah cuts the corner through the living room, she comes across a little eight-year-old sitting alone on the couch.

  “Oh! Goodness, you scared me! Sophie? Sweetheart? Where’s your mom? Why are you in here all alone?”

  The little girl shrugs.

  “Oh. Well. Ok. It’s almost time to walk down the aisle. Are you ready? You’re a big girl. I think you can handle it, right? Do you know what you are supposed to do right now?” Where is this child’s mother? Leah was not hired to be a babysitter, even if Sophie seems used to taking care of herself.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Great. That is wonderful, sweetheart. You have your basket, right? Can you just go out front where the groomsmen are? We’ll walk from there.”

  She shrugs again, but slides down off the couch and starts toward the front door without a word.

  One last excursion upstairs to the master bedroom. Lindsay and all her girls should be up there. They had better all be up there. Leah reaches the door and raps quickly. “Girls! It’s time!”

  The maid of honor opens the door. “Ready? Ok. We’re coming. Lindsay!” she calls over her shoulder.

  Leah steps out of the way as six lovely girls in black started filing out of the bedroom door, chattering to each other, laughing, checking that their hair is still in place.

  “Amber, please be sure you remind Lindsay to give you her bouquet when she gets to the altar. And can you please just give her a once over? Make sure everything is tucked in that needs to be? Thank you so much.”

  She hurries back downstairs to direct the rest of the wedding party in the processional. Ryan, bless him, is already at the altar, so she only has to release the pairs to walk at reasonable intervals.

  “Gum out. All of you. Here, give it to me.” She moves from groomsman to groomsman, prompting them to show her their mouths are empty or spit it into her hand if not.

  The DJ sees her in place around the corner of the house, and with a nod from Leah, plays the music.

  It begins.

  They all get off smoothly, albeit at different paces. This is why we have a rehearsal, people, she thinks. Then comes Lindsay, almost floating and gloriously beautiful. The ideal bride. Leah is as proud as if Lindsay had been her daughter.

  Finally they are all down the aisle, in their places, and Leah can watch from the back of the crowd.

  “Who gives this woman to be wed?”

  She feels punched in the gut. Leah turns away, breathless and surprised at her reaction. She can’t help it. She can’t handle it. Her calm, stoic demeanor she has held the entire day cracks under the reality of the situation. She has been able to forget about her own problems in the rush of doing her job, but now that she has a moment to herself it comes rushing back.

  The vows are coming. The eternal vows, promising to love each other for the rest of their lives. Love each other and not separate and not turn their children against the other.

  Shoot.

  Leah thinks she can slip away for just a minute. Pastor Roberts has the ceremony all under control for at least fifteen minutes. Without thinking, Leah slips her hand into her pocket and wraps her fingers around her cell phone. She’s tired of pretending she doesn’t care; she’s going to try to call Joe.

  To heck with her usual rules. If any situation deserves an exception, this is it. Leah hurries into the house; the dining room should be empty again as long as everyone is outside.

  She immediately finds her favorites list and presses ‘call,’ holding the phone to her ear as she walks. Nothing.

  She hangs up before Joe’s outgoing message finishes.

  Maybe a text? “Do you have a minute to talk?” Send.

  Nothing.

  Leah takes a breath and tries calling again.

  “Hi, um. It’s, uh … It’s me,” she stammers into the voicemail. “I just had a really quick minute to call and see … uh. I guess, how your day is going? Or, um. If you maybe had thought about, uh… If you had, had thought any more about what you decided. And, um, maybe wondering if you had changed your mind? I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I just … I just wanted to talk if you had a minute. I, uh … I have go back to work. Ok, bye.”

  She hangs up frantically, as if the sooner she presses end the better her message would sound.

  But she doesn’t have time for any more indulgences. She is supposed to be working. The ceremony is still going on and there is a chance she will be needed.

  Leah wipes the tears from her face, returns her still silent phone to her pocket and leaves the house.

  5:50pm Dylan

  Dylan stands in the very back, behind the last row of chairs, deep in the shade on the side of the house, hidden between tall shrubbery. He watches his mom duck into the house, phone to her ear. He has never seen her make a personal call or text while working — she has always been very firm on that point. There’s probably some wedding disaster that she needs to fix.

  Dylan wonders what she had done that morning when his dad told her he was moving out. It must have killed her to have someone make a decision she had not been part of. Dylan always thinks ‘controlling’ isn’t a strong enough word to describe his mom.

  He tries to picture his parents’ wedding and can’t. He just keeps getting an image of his mom doing her coordinating job, but in a wedding dress, with some other faceless bride by his dad’s side having all the fun. If there is one thing he has learned from the few weddings he worked, it’s that the brides who let go of control and making everything perfect always have the most fun (a lesson he immediately carried over to his skateboarding, even after he broke his collarbone).

  He can not imagine his mother ever letting go of control. She must have hated her wedding day.

  Dylan’s mom has not yet emerged from the house. It occurs to him that maybe she’s actually breaking her own rule. Maybe she’s trying to call Joe, and he wonders if his dad has picked up the phone. He doubts it. He could have told his mom not to bother. Dad is totally set on this. His stuff was mostly packed by ten that morning, for god’s sake.

  The pastor continues talking. Preaching, Dylan supposes. About love and marriage and what it all means. They haven’t gotten to the rings or anything yet. Dylan watches the one groomsman who had left his sunglasses on mouth something to someone in the audience. What a tool. What is that guy even doing in this wedding party? He doesn’t seem like he belongs at all. H
e must be related somehow. A duty groomsman.

  Dylan doesn’t have any siblings. He wonders abstractedly who he might have in his own wedding one day. He wonders if his parents would remain civil after they separate, if they would both be pleasant at his graduation next year, or his wedding sometime later in the future.

  Dylan doesn’t really want to have to choose between them. Especially because if he has the option he will totally choose his dad. But Dylan isn’t sure he will be given the option and, if he does choose his dad, it will probably crush his mother. It would totally go against how she sees herself, as a mother and as a wedding coordinator. It’s like she would not know who she is without those two things. If Dylan chooses his dad, she will lose half of her purpose in life. Her value. In her mind, at least.

  He’s angry with her, but he isn’t sure he can do that to her.

  Dylan’s mind wanders back to what the old grandpa had said. About family. And about being alone. He hadn’t seemed too keen on his own, but they don’t seem to care about him much either.

  Dylan rubs his temple and closes his eyes. The June heat gives him a headache. Fighting with his mom doesn’t help. But goddamn is she a pain sometimes.

  She creeps out of the house at that moment, clearly guilty she had left the ceremony site and glances around side-eyed to see if anyone has noticed, anyone whose opinion she values. She never sees Dylan staring right at her.

  5:53pm Ian

  This is the worst, Ian thinks. Standing in the fucking sun while his sister babbles on? I am taking this jacket off at the earliest possible moment. The wedding party and pastor are positioned just slightly higher than the guests on a small hill up against the fence, so Ian can see the whole crowd.

  That Karen girl he had noticed earlier is watching Ian instead of the bride and groom. She catches his eye and gives him a half smile before tossing her hair back over her shoulder. He chuckles to himself, grinning back. He would talk to her as soon as this thing was over. He thinks she has a kid, but there is a ton of other family around and it’s a fucking backyard wedding. The little girl will be fine on her own for a little while.