No Day Like Today

by Amy Teegan

  What a selfish, insensitive jackass. First he takes advantage of her last night (yes, she let him. But still). Then he abuses the photographer, a total stranger. And now this? Does he have any substance at all? Is there anything even remotely redeeming about Ian McKay?

  Amber rests her head on her arms, closing her eyes against the whole celebration. This is all just further evidence that last night had been the worst idea she has ever had. At least she can blame her puffy, crying eyes on the wedding.

  The DJ turns up the volume on “Twist and Shout.” Amber looks around; only the older guests are still seated. Well, and her. She’s annoyed that the party can continue without her, and then angry at herself for being ridiculous. Of course it’s going to go on whether she feels like partying or not.

  A teenage boy in all black is standing just behind her.

  “Excuse me, can I take that plate?” Amber looks up and he sees her eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

  “Yeah.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just … You know how there’s those people in your life that would be great if they just changed that one thing about themselves?”

  The waiter looks exasperated. “Yes. I totally do.”

  “I just realized he’s never going to change.” She sighs. “Never. This is just the way he is. And if I like him, I’m going to have to like him like this. You know?”

  He looks up, over her shoulder at someone behind her. “I guess.”

  “Trust me. What are you? Fifteen? Just … save yourself the trouble now. Decide to love them the way they are or don’t waste your time.” Amber stands up, pushing her chair back.

  8:15pm Dylan

  Dylan carries the maid of honor’s plate, along with all the other mostly empty dishes he’s cleared from her table, and walks back to the catering truck. She had been sitting with her head on her arms on the table, her hair almost in the cream sauce left over from her chicken. Sitting all alone, while the rest of the wedding party was … what? Dancing? Drinking? Clearly having more fun than she was, so he took pity on her and bussed the table. But now there are more guests on the dance floor than at the tables, so he can start clearing other dishes.

  Dylan seeks his boss, Cheryl, and finds her behind the truck, directing one of the waitresses in stacking containers.

  “You think it is okay to start clearing?” he asks, gesturing to the empty plate in his hand.

  She barely glances at him before agreeing. “Yes, yes. I trust you. You’re fine. Go ahead.”

  Dylan weaves his way between a couple other waiters, also packing things up, slips behind a group of guests standing in the walkway and makes his way to an abandoned table. His mom is near the house, taking to the DJ. She is just all business all the time. It makes her good at her job, sure, but is that all there is? Is there really no other way she can think to spend her energy?

  He thinks about what the maid of honor had said, about caring about someone the way they are or not wasting your time. Could he love his mom this way? This controlling, cold, driven way that she is?

  Out of the corner of his eye, Dylan sees a white blur head toward his mother. It’s the bride, going out of her way to hug her wedding coordinator. He stops to watch for just a moment before returning to work. The bride is gushing; she repeatedly clasps his mom’s arm. He is too far away to hear what is being said, but the way she keeps leaning into Leah as she talks feels intimate. Like she genuinely loves and values this hired help.

  She is just a wedding coordinator — a glorified manager. And she inspires this much affection?

  Dylan turns away to clear the next table, biting the inside of his cheek.

  8:28pm Leah

  Leah hovers along the edge of the dance floor, one eye on the DJ, one eye on the serving staff, one eye on the photographer. Yes, that’s three eyes. Leah is very good at her job. She pulls out her phone and glances at it — 8:28pm. An hour and a half left and still no word from Joe. Before she can return the phone to her pocket, her arm is pinned against her side in a tight hug.

  “Oh my god, Leah. This has been amazing! You are my new best friend.” Lindsay clutches Leah to her.

  “Oh!” Leah has only been taken by surprise with the hug; she is used to brides declaring their undying love for her by the ends of their wedding days. “Of course, Lindsay. I’m so glad.”

  “No. I mean it.” Lindsay pulls back but keeps a tight grip on Leah’s shoulders. “I can’t wait till Amber gets married so we get to work with you again!”

  “Thank you.” Leah can’t help but grin.

  “Is there anything I can do for you? I mean, I’ll refer everyone I know, but would a testimonial help? Or a Yelp review?”

  “Yes. Thank you so much, dear. But, please don’t worry about me. Go enjoy your wedding. We can talk next week.”

  Lindsay hugs her again. “Thank you,” she whispers into Leah’s hair.

  She watches the bride dash off into the crowd on the dance floor with Ryan close behind. He’s helping hold up her enormous train, grinning as Lindsay spins and gets tangled in the yards of fabric.

  Leah sighs. Joe used to be like that. Thoughtful and caring. Nurturing. He still is, to be honest. He will probably leave the porch light on for her when she gets home, looking out for what is best for her.

  Which is why she knows that this separation — she is not ready to call it a divorce — is the best decision, as well. She sees that now. They need space. They need to make individual lives and see how that works. She has invested so much into her business, and now she needs to decide if she is willing to invest just as much into her marriage.

  She tucks her phone back into the pocket of the tote bag, turning her full attention to the wedding.

  8:45pm Kristy

  Kristy checks her phone again. 8:45pm Just over an hour left. Thank god. She is so done with this day.

  Leah catches her eye from across the dance floor. Kristy feels guilty for a second, since she had been caught checking the time, until she sees Leah mouthing the work ‘cake,’ raising her eyebrows in a question, and pointing over to the cake table.

  Got it. A bit of the many instances of sign language and secret messages sent between vendors on a wedding day. And Leah can think Kristy only has eyes for her beloved schedule.

  Threading her way through the crowd of watchers surrounding the dance floor, Kristy keeps one eye out for Ian and one eye out for Marta. The cake table is over on the other side of the yard, so she imagines she’ll run into one or both before she gets over there.

  The cake is a lovely, simple traditional three-tier white confection adorned delicately with fresh flowers. Marta had been able to get some photos earlier, just before the ceremony when they still had plenty of natural light. As she approaches, Kristy notices that sometime in the last hour, a small plate, two forks and several napkins have found their way to the cake table. She had seemed a bit distracted earlier, but Leah never misses anything, apparently.

  The cake table is set up in the corner of the yard. No one has noticed her over there yet so Kristy takes the opportunity to really survey the scene. The backyard really does look beautiful. It’s the perfect spot for a wedding. Small holiday lights are strung between the eaves of the house and the trees that pepper the yard. All of the tables feature centerpieces of candles, most of which remain lit casting a warm glow over the guests. There are several tables of grandparents and other older guests, strategically placed as far away from the DJ’s speakers as possible. Ryan and Lindsay stand with a group of guests their own age — sorority sisters, maybe — laughing and completely ignoring the fact that Leah is trying to get their attention to keep them on schedule. Marta makes her way over to that corner of the yard and, at the bar —

  Ian stares at her. He is clearly watching her. She holds his gaze for only a moment (yes, I see you and I am ignoring you) before looking away. She hopes he can feel her contempt, but his expression is blank. She can feel her face blushing; why is he looking at her? Thank go
d it is after dark. There are not many lights outside of the dance floor, and she doesn’t think anyone else is looking at her.

  She wills herself to not pull up on the neckline of her tank top. Intellectually, she knows she looks fine and that everything is covered. She knows that. She has to tell herself three times, but she knows it. It’s only that she knows that pig is still looking at her that brings on the impulse. As a compromise, she tries to casually hold her big camera up in front of her chest. That looks natural, right? Is he still looking at her?

  Goddamn that guy.

  Goddamn this whole job.

  She never wants to be put in this situation ever again. She supposes she could have held to her contract and left, but this is a wedding day. This day is never going to happen again. And it isn’t Ryan and Lindsay’s fault their brother is a revolting human being. But that is more than she ever wants to put herself through again.

  Marta appears at her elbow.

  “Hey,” Kristy says. “They’re supposed to be doing the cake right now. And then I assume the DJ will rush through the bouquet toss, garter toss and money dance before we leave at ten.”

  “Ok! Sounds good! I don’t mind staying a little bit if we have to.”

  “I do. My husband is going to have our hot tub ready when I get home. I cannot wait to get out of here.”

  8:53pm Amber

  The photographer Kristy approaches Amber as she stands at the edge of the dance floor. Before she can say anything, Amber smirks and points to what she is watching. Kristy follows her gaze.

  The awkward DJ has brought out a little step stool, set it up in the middle of the dance floor and climbed up on to it. He is now at least four or five feet higher than the guests. He pulls out a small point-and-shoot camera, holds it high above the dance floor, and takes a single photo with a bright flash pointing almost straight down at the guests. Finally, he climbs down off the step stool, moves it to another spot and repeats the process.

  “What is he doing?” Kristy laughs and Amber can’t help but join her.

  “I can only assume he is taking photos for his website?”

  “What is it he thinks I do?”

  Amber laughs again, totally confused. “I have no idea.”

  “Anyway. I was just coming over to see if you, Miss Maid of Honor, know about any bouquet toss surprises.”

  “What do you mean? Like what?”

  “Oh, some brides have multiple ones to throw. Some turn and look so they can throw it directly to someone. Things like that.”

  “No, Lindsay hasn’t told me anything like that. Sorry.”

  Kristy shrugs. “It’s fine. It doesn’t really matter. I just thought I’d check. Actually, I’m kind of surprised she is doing a bouquet toss at all. There doesn’t seem to be very many single women here tonight.”

  “No, there’s not,” replies Amber. She can probably count them all on one hand, actually. Including herself.

  “Oh well.”

  Amber feels the other woman looking at her carefully.

  “Are you okay?”

  Amber stares at her for just a beat before replying. “Me? Yeah, of course. I mean… It’s a wedding! I’m happy.”

  She looks at Amber, politely skeptical. She nods, seeming to accept Amber’s words at face value.

  “Ok. Good.”

  Amber wonders what she sees. Are her eyes still red and puffy? It’s kind of dark in the backyard, with only strands of bulbs offering ambient light. Had she maybe heard about Amber’s tangle with Ian? Ironically, Amber is feeling semi-alright. Now that it’s the end of the day and someone has finally thought to notice she might be having a hard time. She can actually say she’s fine and have it mostly be true.

  “Actually, I think it’s time for the bouquet toss — it must be almost nine o’clock.” Kristy indicates over to the dance floor with a slight tilt of her heard.

  At that exact moment, the DJ starts playing “All the Single Ladies.”

  “Alright, you know what that means! I want to see all the single ladies out on the dance floor for the bouquet toss!”

  Kristy rolls her eyes. “Ah yes. So predictable. Excuse me.”

  9:42pm Sophie

  The wedding is probably almost over. Already a few of her great-aunts and uncles have left. But most of the people Sophie’s mom’s age are still here. Dancing, mostly, just like Sophie.

  Sophie loves this song — it’s one that she and her mom dance too sometimes in the car. Not really at home. Mom isn’t usually in the mood to listen to music when she’s home. But sometimes, like on the way to the grocery store or when Sophie is going to be dropped off at her dad’s, Mom puts this song on. They both know all the words. Where is her mom now? Sophie tries to look around while she dances, but she doesn’t notice anyone wearing the same bright color of her mom’s dress.

  Sophie is dancing with one of the boys. One of cousin Ryan’s friends that stood up at the front with him. He had worn sunglasses during the wedding, which Sophie thought was so cool.

  “Hey Soph!” Uncle Tory grabs her hand and starts swinging her arm from side to side in time with the music. “Ready to go home? It’s already almost ten, way past your bedtime. I think Aunt Callie is asking your mom if you can come stay with us tonight.”

  “Ok.” Sophie had spent all day waiting for her mom to have time for her, and now she isn’t even going home with her. She tries to smile at Uncle Tory. So he knows she’s happy. Even though she’s not happy.

  She feels sharp fingers on her arm. “Come on, Sophie. Let’s go.”

  Her mom is angry. She can tell. She almost pulls Sophie off her feet as she starts toward the edge of the dance floor, back towards the front of the house. The boy who had been wearing the sun glasses stays where he is in the middle of the crowd, but Uncle Tory follows behind Sophie and her mom.

  “Karen, hey. Karen,” he calls after them. “Did Callie find you?”

  “Yeah, she fucking found me.” Mom whirls around. The small group of other guests talking nearby collectively step back, away from where her mom is yelling. “Told me I couldn’t take care of my daughter. You keep that bitch away from me.” She turns back around and continues dragging Sophie toward the driveway.

  Sophie tries to make herself go small. When her mom gets mad like this, the best thing to do is hope she doesn’t notice you. Mom still has a tight grip on her arm, but if she can keep in step and move closer to her mom the grip will relax and Sophie can feel her attention slide right off of her.

  “Hey. Wait. Karen, wait!”

  She turns around again to confront her brother, fuming.

  “Karen, we just thought you seemed to be having fun and we’d take the girl home so you could keep having fun. I swear!” He puts up his hands like he’s warding her off. “We didn’t mean anything by it. If you don’t want her to come with us, she won’t.”

  Aunt Callie had found them now and watches the conversation, her lips pursed. Sophie tries not to smile too big. Her mom does want to be with her. They’re going to go home together. Right now, even. Mom even got mad at Uncle Tory for wanting to take her instead. Sophie bites her lip. She doesn’t want to hurt Uncle Tory’s feelings. She looks down so he can’t see her smile.

  “Karen,” Aunt Callie says. “Look. We love Sophie. We love you. We’re just trying to help. It’s been a long day for everyone. We can bring Sophie back to our place so she can get a full night’s sleep and you can … you know. Continue doing whatever you want to do.”

  “Fuck you,” Mom spits out. “Whatever I ‘want to do’? Fuck you. You don’t know me.”

  “Karen, shut up.”

  “Callie, don’t — “

  “No, she needs to listen. We do everything we can for Sophie. We are always available to babysit at a last minute notice. We go out of our way to help her out. And now? Now that it actually seems dangerous to leave Sophie with her we’re just going to step aside?”

  “Callie —“

  “Karen, you are a disast
er. You are a walking time bomb. I lost track of how many drinks you had tonight — you should not be driving at all, let alone with your eight-year-old daughter.”

  Sophie’s mom glares at Aunt Callie. About five or six guests are leaving at the same time, but give Sophie’s family a wide berth. No one wants to interfere. Sophie just wants it to be over. She has never heard Aunt Callie this angry, but she has seen her mom like this. It never goes well.

  “Give me your keys.” Aunt Callie holds out her hand.

  Sophie’s mom snorts derisively and turns away. She puts her arm around Sophie’s shoulders and forcibly propels her forward toward the street, away from the wedding. Away from her brother and the rest of her family.

  Uncle Tory calls after them, but her mom ignores them.

  Sophie looks back over her shoulder. Only briefly, though. She has to concentrate on keeping up with her mom as she is half-dragged down the driveway to their car. Uncle Tory and Aunt Callie are watching them, his arm around her shoulders. They both look sad. Sophie faces front again, without waving good-bye.

  Her mom says nothing as they get into the car.

  9:51pm Ian

  A lot of the older guests are leaving. Once the cake has been served, there is not a whole lot left to hang around for. Ian had been dancing with Sophie, before she was pulled away. She is a cute kid, sure. But really he had just been trying to get Karen’s attention. She has not left yet — she’s talking to her brother and his girlfriend just on the edge of the dance floor — so Ian thinks there might be a chance. Not tonight, and not tomorrow, but he wants some kind of indication that she wants to see him again.

  He gets slightly jostled as someone passes. Amber is walking across the dance floor, purse over her shoulder, carrying her heels and walking barefoot. She doesn’t look right or left, or give any notice to anyone.