Not Quite A Bride

by Kirsten Sawyer

  7

  The Whirlwind Romance Begins

  Justin and I agreed that we would meet again in a week to devise the game plan for our “relationship.” It’ll be important to bring him to strategically placed events with the proper mixture of family and friends so that the fast engagement seems legitimate and doesn’t come as a complete shock to anyone. Thankfully, there are a few such events coming up.

  A week later I am at the same Starbucks with Justin to finalize the details. Stuff like how affectionate I want him to be, what is the story about how we met, what he does, etc. Also how and when he will be paid. We decide that sticking as close to the truth as possible will make it harder to mess up the lie. So, his name is still Justin Blake. He’s still thirty-three and working as a waiter until his acting career takes off. We had a good laugh about what would happen if we said he was a neurosurgeon and then someone went for dinner at the restaurant where he works.

  Obviously we decided to skip the whole escort and me answering a Village Voice ad thing and say that we met at the Starbucks where we had our first “date.” It’s actually a romantic little story. It’s basically how it happened in real life sans the business side of our meeting. We also agree that he will not escort anyone else during the year because if someone saw him out with another woman (or man) it would be bad ... but he can continue his own dating life as long as he keeps it discreet. I will pay him, in cash, for each event that he attends as my date/boyfriend/fiancé. I will get a slight discount on his usual evening rates since I will be such a good customer, but I also have to give him a sizable “down payment” to make sure that he will not escort any of his other clients for the year.

  He asks about what would happen if I really did meet “the one” during this year, but I assure him that it hasn’t happened in the previous thirty years, so there is no way it will happen in the next 365 days. We even set an engagement date (eight weeks after our first “date”) and our wedding date, June 30, as kind of an inside joke since the whole scheme is kind of my thirtieth birthday present to myself.

  The first order of business is making our “love” known to the world. Brad and Claire’s engagement party is the obvious place to begin. But before I can just show up with him, I need to plant seeds to those around me that he is in my life.

  First, I decide, will be my brother, Logan, who is “finding himself” in Italy. It feels easier to lie on a long distance call, so it seems like the ideal warm-up. Logan is the youngest Harrigan—and the much-anticipated son who will carry on the family name. Really, our dad isn’t as ridiculous as that sounds, but I think he always had dreams of raising a son, and when his first two children were girls he began to fear it would never happen. But the third time’s a charm and he finally got his boy.

  I think Logan has always been a bit of an enigma to Dad, though. I still remember Logan’s nursery—a major league sports theme. There was even a brand-new mitt in his crib waiting for him, but Logan was never too into sports. He’s brilliant and creative and sensitive—and not at all the jock that Dad had been waiting for. Luckily, Jamie turned out to be a little bit of a tomboy, so Dad still had someone to use the mitt. Logan graduated from Yale (I told you he was brilliant) with a degree in art history, and went to Italy to travel and explore.

  I wander into the park and find a shady bench to dial Logan from my cell phone. Of course, no answer ... he’s impossible to get hold of. I take the wimp route and leave a message.

  “Logan, it’s Molly. How are you? I miss you. I have exciting news! I met someone. His name is Justin—he’s great. Come home so you can meet him. I love you.”

  Hooray! The first lie is always the hardest and now it’s behind me. The catch about starting with Logan, though, is that I have to tell the rest of my family immediately so that they hear it from me, because he’s an enormous gossip. Nobody is perfect, right?

  I decide to walk home and make the rest of the calls from the comfort of my own couch. When I walk in the door, the light on my answering machine is blinking “2.” Shoot ... I must have walked too slowly.

  “Time of call: 3:06 P.M.”

  “Jeez!” I called Logan at, like, three o’clock. I realize he must have been screening his calls, listened to my message, and immediately got on the horn.

  “Good Golly Miss Molly!” My mother’s voice screeches her annoying pet name for me through the machine. “Why am I always the last to know? Logan told me you met someone. Call me. Share with your mother.” CLICK.

  “Time of call: 3:10 P.M.”

  “Molly, it’s Jamie ... I just talked to Logan. What’s the dillio? I just saw you! Call me.” CLICK.

  Okay, here we go ... the plan is now in action ... let’s go full force. I take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and dial my sister. I’m saving my mother for last because I have NEVER been able to lie to my mother. She sees right through me like a plate-glass window, and I inevitably crack under the pressure. I figure warming up on Jamie might ease me into my mom. Jamie answers immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  “What’s going on? Logan called and told me that you met someone! Why did you tell him first?!?”

  Now is probably a good time to explain that Jamie has a slight middle-child complex when it comes to family stuff. In real life she’s extremely confident and centered, but when it comes to the Harrigans, she’s a complete Jan Brady.

  “Jamie, I’m sorry. I hadn’t talked to Logan in a while and I just happened to be calling him.” GOD, I hate lying!

  “Well, tell me more than you told him to make up for it. He said all you said is you met someone named Justin.”

  “Okay, he’s right ... I did. Justin is thirty-three. He’s an actor—well, he’s a waiter who wants to be an actor. He’s wonderful ... at least he seems wonderful. It’s only been a couple weeks.”

  “A couple weeks?!? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Sooner? It’s only been two weeks! I didn’t want to jinx it.”

  “Fine. Tell me more. Where did you meet him?”

  I launch into the planned story, “We met at Starbucks, actually. I was there, he came in, he asked to share a table, and we started talking.” Shoot, it seemed a little rushed. I hold my breath.

  “That sounds awesome!” Phew ... she must be buying it! “I’m so excited for you. When can I meet him? I’m free tonight.” Slow down! I’m definitely not up for that.

  “Jamie, relax ... you’ll meet him at Brad and Claire’s (gag) engagement party (double gag).”

  Justin and I decided that we would make that our grand entrance because it would give us some more time to “get to know each other,” and I thought it would piss Claire off. After a brief description of her, Justin thought that pissing Claire off sounded like a lot of fun.

  “Okay, (beep) I’ll wait (beep).”

  “That’s my Call Waiting ... I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, maybe it’s him!”

  I click over ... I was definitely ready to get off that call. Thank goodness for Call Waiting.

  “Hello?”

  “Molly! I called you. Why didn’t you call me back?”

  “Mom, hi, I just got home.” (Mental Side Note: I should look into that Call-Waiting Caller-ID thing.)

  “Logan said you met someone. Who is he? Does he have a good job?”

  “Yes, Mom, he’s an actor ... actually, a waiter to pay the bills. His name is Justin Blake. He’s thirty-three. You will like him—he has excellent manners.”

  “An acting waiter?!? You call that a good job? Forget it, Molly, he’s not the one,” my mother says, her tone immediately shifting from hope and elation to that of a person who has been severely let down.

  My mother has a dream for us to marry doctors, lawyers, CEOs, or independently wealthy people. She’s an equal-opportunity pain in the ass ... it’s not just her daughters she tries to impose these limits on; she’s always trying to fix Logan up with women doctors she goes to or wom
en lawyers she meets in elevators. Don’t ask ... my mom is a character. She was skeptical about Jamie’s husband, Bryan, being a computer consultant, but when she saw the ring he bought Jamie she lightened up. (Oh, shoot ... another Mental Side Note: I’m gonna need a ring.)

  “Mom, he’s a really good actor. And he’s a kind soul.” Those two words, kind soul, always win over my mother. The truth is that she herself is a kind soul and has a soft spot for all other kind souls. And he could be a really good actor ... I have no idea.

  “Oh my God, Molly, maybe you’re falling in love,” she exclaims as the optimism her voice held before she learned of Justin’s profession returns.

  “Yeah, maybe I am.” I smile at the idea. It would be wonderful to fall in love, and maybe I am starting to, a little ... obviously not with gay Justin—I’m not self-destructive like that—but with the idea of the romance of getting engaged and planning a wedding and having someone by my side for the next year.

  “Mom, I’ve gotta run ... I’ve got cookies burning in the oven.” My God ... it’s true what they say—once you tell one lie, you open floodgates.

  “I thought you said you just got home?”

  Shoot ... this is why it’s bad to lie.

  “I did ... I did just get home. I put some break-and-bakes in the oven—I was really craving chocolate chip cookies—and then I dialed you.” I really need to watch myself!

  “Craving cookies? Are you pregnant? Jamie said you brought cookies to her house, too!”

  “What?!? Mom! NO!! I haven’t even slept with him.” And yuck that I just told that to my mother. “I’m hanging up now. I love you, good-bye.” CLICK.

  I bang my head on the wall a few times and dial one final number for the day. Of course, that person doesn’t answer.

  “Logan, you are lucky I love you because you have a big fucking mouth.” CLICK.

  I flop down on the couch and Tiffany makes herself comfortable next to me. I’m going to need to get in shape for all this! It’s exhausting.

  Many hours later, I’m in my comfy sweats (not to be confused with my cute sweats that I could actually leave the house in, thanks to JLo) with take-out chopsticks in my hand. I jump a foot when my buzzer buzzes.

  “Who is it?” I frantically screech through the intercom while chow mein hangs out of my mouth.

  “Molly, it’s me. Buzz me up.”

  I am totally confused as to why Brad is at my house, but I buzz him up. Literally seconds later—he must have run up the stairs—Brad is at my door, slightly out of breath.

  “Brad! What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Jamie called me ...”

  “Oh my God! Is everything okay? With the baby??” I interrupt.

  “What? Yes. She’s fine. She said you met someone.”

  Hang on, back up. What is wrong with these people? Don’t they have lives of their own?!?

  Brad is standing in my doorway, staring at me expectantly. I have no idea what he is doing there.

  “Yes, I met someone. What’s the problem?”

  A strange thing happens ... when I confirm that there is someone in my life, Brad gets this look of deep hurt for just a split second and then quickly replaces it with a look of fake enthusiasm.

  “That’s fantastic! That’s what Jamie said, and I just wanted to get the details from you. I guess I’ll go now.”

  Huh?

  “Brad, you (from the looks of it) ran all the way here to ‘get the details,’ which you didn’t actually get, and now you’re leaving? Why didn’t you just call me?”

  He looks confused by my question.

  “I dunno ... I guess I just wanted to see you.” He pauses for a second. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Now I realize ... I’ve hurt him. He’s supposed to be my best friend, and he had to find out from someone else that what I’ve been complaining to him about not happening for most of our friendship finally happened and I left him out. God, I feel awful.

  “I’m so sorry ... I should have called you. I just thought it would be better to tell you in person.”

  The truth is that I thought I would be better not to tell him at all because more than my mother and sister combined, Brad is able to see right through me. His bullshit meter is very finely tuned.

  “Oh, okay. So, here I am. What are the details?”

  We are still standing in the doorway and I still have the container of chow mein in one hand and the chopsticks in the other.

  “Come in. Let me grab another pair of chopsticks.”

  Suddenly he’s totally on edge again.

  “Actually, I can’t. Claire’s waiting for me—I told her I was going for a run.”

  A rush of anger overwhelms me ... God, I hate Claire. My best friend has to sneak out to visit me?

  “Okay, I don’t want you to get busted.”

  Brad smiles a pathetic half-smile.

  “When do I get to meet this mystery man?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to bring him to your engagement party. What do you think?”

  “Definitely. Well, let me just check it with Claire, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  Let him just “check it with Claire”?!? What is she, his mother?

  “Great, let me know.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow to get the specifics. I’ve gotta go now.”

  Brad pecks my forehead and runs off down the hall before I can respond.

  As I watch my wonderful, smart, handsome friend run down the hall like a trained poodle, the overwhelming anger and hatred of Claire is replaced by deep sadness. I shut the door and return to my spot next to Tiffany, sad that it feels like the deterioration of my friendship with Brad is beginning. If he isn’t allowed to visit me just weeks after their engagement, by the time they are married I’ll never get to see him at all. I’m so glad my engagement to Justin won’t be anything like that. It might be fake, but at least it will allow me freedom.

  Needless to say, Brad does not call me the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. I talk on the phone to him once between the night at my apartment and the night of his engagement party when he calls to tell me that Claire said it would be okay for me to bring Justin, but he couldn’t even chat then because she had him so busy with all the party details.

  8

  Introducing Justin

  Their engagement party is actually a huge deal for me and I’m bubbling over with nervous anticipation. Unlike Brad and me, Justin and I have seen each other very often and talked on the phone at least once a day. We have our story straighter than an arrow.

  Like we agreed in the beginning, we stick to as much truth as possible, and only shift things slightly to make our relationship a romance, not a business deal. Each time we had a “meeting,” we chose a different romantic restaurant so that if questioned about where we have gone on dates, we had good answers, experiences, and food comments on hand. The truth is, I’m having the best time!

  Justin is a fantastic person. He is smart and funny and has led a really interesting life ... and having a gay man as a boyfriend is really ideal in every way except that you never get sex. He isn’t at all distraught by the hours of shopping and was instrumental in helping me pick out the perfect dress for the party, plus he totally understands why I need to look better than Claire. It’s like we are back in junior high school, creating our very own secret club ... we have deep, touching conversations and are so silly that I laugh until I cry talking about everything from Justin’s “coming out” to the awfulness of Claire Reilly to the wedding (of course). And again, his flawless taste is going to be extremely helpful in planning the wedding. This fake relationship is better than any real one I’ve ever had!

  The night of Brad and Claire’s engagement party, Justin and I are dressed to the nines and ready to make our grand entrance. Most of the important people in my life will be there (except big-mouth Logan): Jamie and Bryan, my parents, Alex and Steve, Lauren and Rob, and, of course, Brad. Justin looks amazin
g in his black suit, and the black strapless dress he insisted was the one to steal Claire’s spotlight really does look like it will be able to do the trick. Don’t get me wrong—we are both nervous (Justin calls it stage fright) but we’re also excited.

  The party is at a restaurant supposedly owned by a friend of Claire’s family. Justin and I arrive just fashionably late and the party is beginning to get going. I take secret joy in how angry Claire must be that half an hour after the time on the invitation the room is only half full. Justin and I clasp our hands and enter the room, where we are almost washed over by the wave of my family and friends ready to pounce on him. Jamie reaches him first ... either she’s fast for a pregnant lady or the others felt uncomfortable shoving a woman with child out of the way.

  Justin looks at me and smiles his dazzling smile; under his breath he says, “Here we go.” Before I realize what hit me, I’m standing behind a mob of people crowded around poor Justin ... I can just see the top of his head. I figure I’m not needed and make my way to the bar in hopes of being able to say hello to Brad.

  From the bar I have a good view of the party. About 95% of the guests are Claire’s family friends. The few guests Brad was allowed to invite are our good friends from college, and my family. Brad really is an honorary Harrigan. Since his family is across the country and he’s not that close to them (they didn’t even come “all the way to New York for one weekend” for the party). Beginning back in college, he would always come home with me for holidays and long weekends, and to this day, he still shows up for these events. My mother thinks he is adorable, my father loves talking sports with him, and both Logan and Jamie treat him like a brother. I think in some ways, it means more to him to have them here than his own parents. Besides the hive of people I know who are buzzing around my poor hired beau, almost everyone else at the party is a stranger to me.

  Claire looks stunning, but there is something icy about her bleached-teeth smile. Maybe I am starting to imagine her evilness being more obvious than it is, but I swear, it shows through. Far across the room, I finally see Brad, trapped in conversation with two older men in three-piece suits. He has his polite smile on and I watch him fake-laugh four times before I can catch his eye. I raise my glass of champagne to him, and he excuses himself from the group and makes his way over to me. Maybe I am imagining this the way I am imagining Claire’s visible horns, but there seems to be a sadness to Brad tonight that I’ve never seen before. When he reaches me he smiles his normal, twinkling smile and hugs me.