No Day Like Today

by Amy Teegan

  For a long time now, Leah has been feeling like an outsider in her own family.

  Leah bristles. She doesn’t have time for this. She has to get nearly one-hundred people served dinner within, ideally, the next ten to fifteen minutes. It’s possible, but it requires focus. No more wondering what her husband is doing or thinking. She needs to make her clients the priority.

  Which means taking care of the vendors, too. She needs help. A waiter.

  “Dylan!” She catches his arm as he walks by. “Can you make sure the DJ, the two photographers, the make-up artist and … I think that’s it. Can you make sure they all get dinner? Please? I believe the vendor meals are stacked in the back for them.”

  “Ok.”

  “And tell them they can eat in the dining room inside. Plenty of room and no one will bother them. Do you need me to show you where it is?”

  “I can probably figure it out, right?” His tone makes it clear he is a bit insulted that she thinks he needs help finding a dining room.

  “Oh, yes. You’re right. I’m sure you can.” Leah backs off. She needs to remind herself to start giving him his space. Especially if he decides he wants that space to be at Joe’s new home.

  As soon as he has gone again, Leah mentally ticks off the final tasks she has to worry about throughout the rest of the evening. More dancing, cake, bouquet, garter, money dance if there is time. Quick mental calculations: If we can get everyone done by dinner by 8, 8:15 at the latest that should be perfect. All of the vendors will leave at ten, so they would have about two hours to accomplish it all. No problem. This wedding is running smoothly.

  Dylan is suddenly at her elbow, hands full of styrofoam containers. “Mom, there was one more vendor meal back there. Do you know whose it is?”

  She stares at him. She stares past him, really, searching her brain for who she is neglecting.

  “Is it yours, maybe?” he asks, after a few moments.

  “Oh!” She laughs. “Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you, dear.”

  He gives her a confused look, hands her the dinner she had forgotten and leaves to go distribute the food.

  As she watches him, she thinks how funny it is that Dylan is so similar to her in some respects but fights it tooth and nail. There’s a reason she has found him a job with a caterer. He’s a fantastic organizer and leader, adopting all of her best traits, but with a tender heart that he keeps hidden. She can imagine him a big important CEO one day, smart and capable and beloved by his employees, secretly paying off their mortgages or giving away vacations.

  Of course, he would never admit he is so similar to his mother. That’s not cool.

  He’ll handle this just fine, Leah thinks as she opens her dinner to eat a few quick bites.

  7:30pm Kristy

  Once the toasts are over and the dinner is served, Kristy plucks at Marta’s sleeve. “Let’s go find dinner.”

  No one ever remembers to take care of the photographer, Kristy thinks. Where’s Leah?

  They have to weave their way through a few waiters, around some tables full of guests and then across the patio. As they approach the door into the kitchen, they almost run smack into a sixteen-year-old boy dressed in all black, with two takeout containers in his hands.

  “Whoa! Sorry! I, uh. I think I’m supposed to look for you?” He eyes their attire, big camera bags still slung over their shoulders. “The photographers?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Kristy smiles.

  “There’s silverware in there, and I’m supposed to show you where the dining room is.”

  “Fantastic,” Marta says from behind her.

  As the boy leads them through the house, Marta says, “Once I shot a wedding at a church, and they stuck us in the nursery for dinner. We had to eat on the floor surrounded by cribs and teething rings.”

  “Ugh. That sounds awful.” Marta is being chatty, but Kristy appreciates it. The other girl is clearly trying to take Kristy’s mind off of the events of that afternoon.

  They sit across from each other. The dining room is lit only by a brass chandelier with weak bulbs. There is a dark wood chair rail around the edge of the room with yellow, flowered wallpaper on the wall above. The whole room feels dark and yellow. Not exactly the most appetizing place to eat — no wonder it seems virtually unused since the house had been built.

  Kristy opens her styrofoam box: roasted carrots, mashed potatoes and a small chicken breast in a cream sauce. Not pretty but not terrible. It could have been worse.

  “This smells delicious,” Marta says from behind her styrofoam lid.

  “You think?” Kristy kind of loves how positive Marta is all the time. It’s growing on her.

  “Oh, yeah! Once I shot a wedding where we got sad sandwiches on Wonder Bread and those super syrupy fruit cups they give four year olds.”

  Kristy laughs. “Yeah, this is better.”

  They eat in silence for a minute or two. In spite of all the waiting around, neither of them has eaten anything for almost eight hours. Only two hours left after dinner, Kristy thinks. Only two hours left to stay out of Ian’s presence.

  “So, that pig Ian tried to talk to me.”

  “He did not! What did he say?”

  “I’m not sure …. He either tried to hit on me or tried to apologize. It’s not totally clear.” She tries make light of it. Maybe it’s funny from someone else’s point of view. Maybe.

  “I still can’t believe he said that.”

  “I know. His brother apologized for him, but still.”

  “I think you handled it so well. I just froze up.”

  “Oh, thanks. My uncles are all joking and sarcastic, so I’m used to being quick with the comebacks.” Her uncles would have kicked that guy’s ass. She almost wishes her Uncle Ted were there to stand up for her.

  Kristy starts crying. She should not feel so helpless. This fucking job.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. We can change the subject.” Marta reaches out and takes her hand.

  “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s just so … I’m so embarrassed. And so angry. I have never been treated like that while working a wedding. Ever. It’s ruined everything.”

  Marta squeezes her hand without saying anything.

  The flower girl sticks her head in the room. She could not be more than eight or nine years old — what is she doing wandering around by herself? Especially since there are so many of her relatives around to look out for her?

  “Hi, hon’,” Marta says, standing up. “Can I help you?”

  “No, sorry,” she mutters, chewing on a fingernail. Sophie, maybe? “Just lookin’ for my mom.” With that she’s gone again.

  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’m sorry.”

  “No no no! Of course, whatever you need. Who else are you going to talk to? It’s not like your husband shoots weddings, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s just … it started out as a little thing. I hate having to work on a weekend when my husband is home. But then another little thing and another, and then it gets harder and harder to charge what makes it worth it to me. And then this today. I’m just so tired of it all.”

  Marta nods, and tries to look like she understands. Kristy knows it’s pointless — there isn’t anyone else she knows who would understand. Every wedding photographer she knows loves their job and everyone else in her life can not really understand the demands of the job.

  She puts a big piece of carrot in her mouth and takes her time chewing. What if she does quit? What could she do instead?

  Kristy’s phone shakes the whole table as it vibrates with a new text. It’s from Nick: ‘You okay? Want me to turn on the hot tub bubbles for when you get home?’

  ‘Yes please’

  He really is the best, Kristy thinks. I just have to make it through two more hours of work.

  “Hey, Marta, quick question. When you shoot weddings, do you check the time a lot?”

  “You mean, to, like, make sure you’re on schedule?”
>
  “More like how soon can I go home?”

  Marta looks confused. “No, not really. At least a third of the time I end up staying an extra half an hour because I’m having fun.”

  “Really?” Kristy has never once stayed at a wedding longer than she was contracted to do. And she certainly is not going to start tonight.

  “Sure. I mean, they’re only going to have one wedding, right?”

  “I guess.”

  They sit in silence, each eating quickly since they have to begin working again soon.

  7:32pm Marshall

  One of the waitresses had to help Marshall find his seat. There are place cards everywhere, but he had no idea where to start. He must have looked lost, so she offered her arm and led him straight to his prime spot at a family table closest to the bride and groom. One of the privileges of being old, he supposes. That and the fact that he isn’t expected to dance. Once the ceremony had finished, and the other guests milled about while the chairs were moved to around the tables, Marshall had simply found his spot and rooted himself there, alone.

  He doesn’t expect Karen to stick by him the whole night, but since she is his ride home it would be nice if he at least knew where she is. He hasn’t seen her since … since the ceremony when that obnoxious boy had attempted to flirt with her from the altar.

  Marshall shakes his head. That boy is obviously trouble. And Karen doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference.

  He had seated himself on the opposite side of the table from the dance floor, and has to crane his neck a bit to see over the centerpiece. Through the flower stems he scans the backyard. He doesn’t see Sophie anywhere either. Well, maybe she is with her mother, in which case he won’t worry.

  After all, no one seems to be worried about him. Two of his kids, plus their spouses, plus all their children and more, and not one of his relations is even sitting with him pretending to make conversation.

  Marshall picks up his place card and rubs his thumb over the embossed name. He misses Carol so much.

  The wedding coordinator, who has been hovering all evening, approaches him, crouching down next to his chair to be at eye-level.

  “Mr. Page? Hi, I’m Leah. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything at all.” She looks at the glass in front of him. “More water? Something else? Dinner will be served soon.”

  “Thank you, my dear. Your team has been very kind to me tonight.”

  “Of course.” She smiles. “That’s what we’re here for. What can I get you?”

  “Water is fine, thank you. Unless … You haven’t seen my granddaughter Karen, have you?”

  “Sophie’s mom? Well, let me think.” Leah stands up. “No, I don’t think so. Maybe at the bar right after the ceremony while Sophie was taking photos, but not since then.”

  “That is what I thought. Thank you all the same.”

  “Of course.” She looks at him for another few seconds. “I’ll get you some more water, sir.”

  And at once Marshall is sitting alone again. He feels like there is a big, black wall between him and his family. Or one of those two-way mirrors. He’s completely detached from them, watching Ryan enjoy his wedding day without actually feeling like he is part of it.

  He wants to go home, but he knows going home would solve nothing. He would feel just as disconnected there.

  Leah returns with a bottle of water. “Would you like me to open it for you?”

  Marshall looks down at his hands, weak and arthritic. “Yes. Thank you, dear.”

  She smiles at him as she breaks the seal on the lid and places the bottle in front of him. “One of my team will bring you dinner in just a minute, sir. You’ll be okay alone?”

  He nods and as she walks away he returns his attention to fiddling with the place card.

  7:35pm Sophie

  Sophie leaves the dining room where the photographers sit eating and continues looking in all the rooms on the ground floor of the house. She thinks it is after 7:30 sometime, because that’s when they are supposed to eat dinner. Ryan had told her. But now everyone else is eating and she can’t find her mom and she’s really hungry.

  She could probably get food without her, but then Mom would be hungry. Where is she?

  Sophie continues down the hallway that runs the center of the first floor. There are a couple living areas in addition to the dining room she has already seen. Finally, near the end of the hallway, Sophie finds a closed door. She tries the handle. Locked.

  “Someone in here!” a male voice calls through the door.

  Maybe it’s a bathroom? She thinks she hears another noise, and leans closer to the door. Muffled laughter.

  There’s another person in there. So, I guess it’s not a bathroom? Sophie thinks. That’s weird.

  She waits very quietly for another minute and hears very faint giggling. Weird.

  But that doesn’t help her find her mom.

  Sophie is really hungry.

  She walks back down the length of the hallway, back to the kitchen. Aunt Callie stands in the doorway leading back outside. She smiles with relief when she sees Sophie. “There you are! Have you seen your mom? No? Well, no matter. Come on, we have a seat for you! Let’s get you some dinner.”

  7:40pm Ian

  They’re missing dinner. Ian can hear the chattering and the clinking of silverware through the tiny window.

  The door handle jiggles. Someone’s trying to open it.

  “Someone in here!” he calls through the locked door. Karen giggles, leaning forward to bury her face in his neck.

  There are no more attempts at the door, so Ian turns his focus back to the task at hand.

  After that photographer bitch had blown him off, Ian ran into Karen at the bar again. She obviously had been waiting for him there. Drink in hand, leaning on the edge of the bar off to the side, irritating the bartender because she kept standing in front of his tip jar.

  It had only taken another drink and some very extravagant flattery for them to now be locked in this bathroom with his hand up her tiny dress. Ian has taken off his tux jacket and thrown it over the toilet tank, but it’s slipped to the floor. Karen has hopped up on the counter, legs spread, and pulled him to her.

  This Karen girl is already pretty drunk. Enough that she’s more than game for this, but not so much that he’ll have to hold back her hair. The perfect amount, really. Plus, she’s hot. The kind of hot that exudes experience and ease. The sexiness of confidence, even as she falls into the messy drunk phase.

  “Shhhh…” she stage whispers, unbuttoning his pants. At the same time, her lips kiss his neck, down to his clavicle where she has already loosened his tie and collar.

  Ian grins and echoes her. “Shhhh…” he says, reaching for his wallet and the condom inside before his pants drop to the floor.

  Ten sweaty minutes later, Karen examines herself in the mirror and blots her face with a wad of toilet paper.

  “Damn, it’s hot in here.”

  Ian’s naked butt sits on the cold edge of the tub, while he watches her. She’s almost fully clothed still; only her purple, sheer, extremely tiny panties lay on the floor. Karen had bothered to remove her dress or even her shoes.

  “So, what are you doing after this? Want to grab a drink or something?”

  She turns to face him and the look she gives his amused pity. He feels her condescension. She leans forward and kisses him hard.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She lightly pats him twice on the cheek. “There’s no ‘after this.’ Let’s just leave it at this.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It was fun. You’re good. Don’t worry. Just this, though, ‘kay?” She turns back to the mirror, dismissing him and blotting her cleavage.

  “Yeah, it was fun. So why not later?”

  “Ian.” She turns to look at him again. “I have a daughter. An eight-year-old little girl. You want me to bring her with?”

  “Oh, no. You’re right.” Ian thinks for another moment. “What about
tomorrow, then? Can you get a babysitter?”

  “No, I gotta work.”

  “What about next weekend, then? Does your daughter ever go to her dad’s?” Ian realizes he is being a little nosy but he doesn’t care. He wants to see this girl again. Woman. Goddamn, she is some woman.

  “I dunno, hon’. We’ll see. Give me your number and I’ll let you know.”

  “Yeah, ok,” Ian mumbles. He takes her phone and dials his number. “It’s the eight-one-eight number I just dialed.”

  While she finishes straightening her hair and reapplying her lipstick, Ian saves the missed call as ‘Karen’. He could call her, he supposes. Even though he gets the feeling she doesn’t want him to.

  He is kind of surprised that he hasn’t made a lasting impression in the last fifteen minutes. He has been told that he’s very good.

  Well, I still have the rest of the night, he thinks.

  “You’ll leave first?” she asks.

  8:04pm Amber

  Amber sits alone at the head table. She has taken off her shoes under the table; the grass is cool on her feet and is helping counter the heat from the day. The sun has set, but she still feels the fine coat of sticky sweat from the heat of the ceremony. She fiddles with the dessert fork that is still sitting in front of her, turning it over and over while she looks around at the guests.

  All of the rest of the wedding party has eaten quickly and left again to go get another drink, talk to family sitting across the yard or, in many of the girls’ cases, change into better shoes.

  Dinner is just about over when she notices Ian emerge from the house. His mouth seems to be stained a little more pink than she had remembered. Is that lipstick? His face is impassive — whatever he had just been doing appears to have not moved him in the least.

  The flower girl’s mom emerges shortly after him, straightening her skirt.

  Amber lets out an inadvertent snort. What a jackass.