Not Quite A Bride

by Kirsten Sawyer

  As he says this, the eater of the strawberry yogurt comes up and joins us. She looks at Evan, then at me, and then smiles warmly.

  “Hi, I’m Jenny,” she says as she extends a friendly hand toward me.

  At this moment, Evan jumps in as if his life depends on it, taking only a split second to regain his composure. “Jenny, this is Molly. Molly is a friend of Maggie, Pete’s wife, and we met at their wedding.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome,” Jenny nods enthusiastically. “I was so sorry to miss their big day.”

  Wait ... now I’m confused ... who is this girl? I must be staring at her with some sort of strange expression because she asks me if I’m okay.

  “Who are you?” I ask, without trying to sound too accusatory.

  She giggles for a second. “I’m Jenny, Evan’s fiancée.”

  I giggle, too ... then I realize what she said. Evan’s fiancée? My giggle abruptly ends and I stare at Jenny and Evan with my mouth hanging slightly open. Jenny is stunning. . . she has a curvy, knockout figure, tan skin, and cascades of dark, curly hair. Next to her, I feel completely mousy. And her voice really is sexy ... not trying and failing to sound sexy. She probably couldn’t stop sounding sexy if she wanted to. Just as I realize that I’ve been staring too long without saying anything, I hear Justin hollering my name—a little too gaily, I might add—from somewhere inside the market.

  I close my eyes for a split second and pray that he doesn’t find me ... he does, of course. He comes up behind me and slips his arm around my waist, flawlessly transitioning from gay best friend mode and into fiancé mode.

  “Hi,” he says to Evan and Jenny, “I’m Justin, Molly’s fiancé.”

  I look sheepishly at their faces ... Evan’s does an exact replica of what mine had done seconds earlier, but he catches himself faster than I did.

  “Nice to meet you—I’m Evan. This is my fiancée, Jenny.”

  “How do you all know each other?” Justin asks cheerfully.

  “Evan is a friend of Maggie’s husband, Pete,” I answer quickly.

  “Oh, fantastic. Were you both at their wedding?” he asks them.

  “Evan was a groomsman,” Jenny explains. “Unfortunately, I was stuck in California that weekend.”

  “You were stuck in California that weekend?” I parrot. That means that since the very first time I met Evan he had a fiancée? What a creep!

  “Yes ... my job sends me away a lot.”

  “That’s cool,” Justin continues. “What do you do?” He has no clue.

  “Well, I was a sales rep, but with our big day right around the corner, I’m on leave,” Jenny continues chatting with Justin as if they are old friends. “How long have you two been engaged and when’s the big day?”

  “We’ve been engaged ... oh, let’s see ... since September and we’re getting married in June.”

  “You’re been engaged since September?” Evan asks, looking directly at me.

  “That’s right ... how long have you been engaged?”

  “October,” he emphasizes, clearly trying to make the point that I was engaged before him.

  “Well, congratulations,” I say coolly. “Nice meeting you, Jenny. You’ve got a swell guy here.” I turn and start walking away, feeling like I might throw up, while Justin says his good-byes and nice-to-meet-yous.

  Can you believe that? He had a girlfriend all the time?!? That poor thing was probably away on business in California while he was screwing my brains out in a New York hotel room. Sure, I might have been cheating on my fake, gay fiancé. . . but that is totally different from what he did.

  I pause for a second so that Justin can catch up with me, and when he does I give his arm a grateful squeeze. I’m so lucky that I have him and don’t have to deal with creeps like Evan.

  37

  Wedding Planning, Shower Planning

  According to Martha (and Marion), six months before the wedding date we should have: finalized the wedding date, reserved ceremony and reception locations, completed the guest list and organized the addresses, chosen attendants, and ordered my dress. I am proud to say that I get checks for all of them!

  Unfortunately, she also says that I should have: ordered the wedding cake, booked the caterer, booked the music for the ceremony and reception, booked the photographer and videographer, arranged for wedding-day transportation, ordered invitations and thank-you notes, booked the calligrapher, reserved groom’s attire, chosen attendants’ attire, purchased lingerie, chosen favors, chosen gifts for the wedding party, reserved accommodations for out-of-town guests, and hired a florist.

  She doesn’t offer many hints on how to accomplish all this ... especially when you are planning a baby shower at the same time and trying to complete your Christmas shopping. Jamie’s shower is less than a week away and I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

  Somehow, with the help of my mother and Justin, I managed to reserve a private room at one of Jamie’s favorite restaurants, Isabella’s, and send out invitations to her specific list of forty-two guests. I have neatly recorded the thirty-nine “yes” RSVPs, and that is about all that I have accomplished. In the next seventy-two hours, I need to figure out favors, menu selections, centerpieces, and order a cake. Perhaps I can order the wedding cake and the baby shower cake at the same time and kill two birds with one stone?

  On Wednesday, I am on the phone with my mother during lunch, trying to figure out a few of these details. We are going back and forth over which two salads should be offered. I am sticking firmly to Chinese chicken salad and Classic Cobb (Jamie’s favorite and mine). Mom is obsessed with providing a vegetarian selection and a pasta choice. I swear, I included her to make things easier for me (and cheaper), but she’s made every step of the way more complicated. She has made it cost me a lot less, though, so I am forced to deal with her insanity. Finally, after a three-way call to the restaurant (whoever gave mothers access to technology should be shot), we settle on three choices: the Chinese chicken, the Cobb, and a pasta alla checca (pasta and vegetarian, thank you to Nathan at Isabella’s). We are about to do battle over party favors when I am rescued by my lunch bell.

  I try not to pull my hair out for the next three hours of book reports, current events, and division with students who are only interested in Santa Claus, menorahs, and ski trips. Finally the last nanny has picked up the only remaining student and I have until 8 A.M. tomorrow to think 100% about Jamie’s shower, breaking only to think about my long and incomplete Christmas list.

  I bundle myself up to prepare for my short walk home and think about shower favors as I head back to my apartment. Baby-shower favors are trickier than you might think. We all know that Jamie is fussy, and, in typical Jan Brady fashion, she’s been very sensitive about getting her fair share of attention since she is pregnant and I’m “just engaged.” I know that if I go with any of the traditional shower-type gifts that she will be disappointed with my lack of creativeness ... but I have severe time and money constraints that could prevent what I know would be her dream favors. Who knew that planning a baby shower would be so stressful?!? Not to mention the fact that my sneaky brain keeps thinking about wedding favors instead of baby-shower favors.

  I enter the apartment to find Logan sitting on the couch, reading a book ... which I guess is an improvement over watching TV. While he doesn’t seem as down all the time as he did a few months ago, he still hasn’t gotten motivated enough to do much besides move the remainder of his belongings from his childhood room at home to the second bedroom of my apartment ... oops, our apartment—I’ve been corrected many times.

  “Mom left four messages for you,” he informs me.

  That’s our mom ... she knows exactly what time school lets out, which is exactly why I turned my phone off for my walk home so that I could think. Poor Logan.

  “Thanks, I’ll call her back. Any fun ideas for Jamie’s baby-shower favors?” I ask him as I head toward my bedroom, peeling off the numerous layers needed to keep
from freezing outside.

  “Nope.”

  Just as I’d expected.

  I collapse on my bed and try to quickly think of some good favor suggestions before calling my mom back. Unfortunately, I not only can’t think of anything good for Jamie, I can’t think of anything good for the wedding, either. Before I have a chance to dial the phone, it rings again and I know it’s her.

  “Where have you been?” she asks.

  “Sorry, walking home from school,” I answer truthfully.

  “Your phone wasn’t on.”

  “The battery died,” I lie seamlessly ... it’s truly awful how good at lying I’ve become in the past four months.

  “Do you have the list of things you need to do before Saturday?”

  “Yes,” I answer miserably, knowing how hard they will be to accomplish.

  “Good, I’m trusting you with the favors, centerpieces, and cake.”

  What?!? She’s trusting me with all that stuff? My mother, of all people, should know how untrustworthy I am!

  “Do you have any favor ideas?”

  “Honestly, Molly, I haven’t had much time to think about it. I’m trying to plan a wedding, you know. I’ve gotta run, sweetie ... I was supposed to call Marion fifteen minutes ago, but I was waiting for your call.” CLICK.

  Okay, I think we have some obvious problems here. 1) I am the bride ... why does she seem to think that she is the one planning the wedding? And 2) What am I going to do about the stuff for Jamie’s shower?!? In a panic, I do what any girl would—I call my fake, gay fiancé.

  As always, he is there for me. Well, not here for me this exact second as he is at work, but he promises to come “home” (Justin calls my apartment home now, too ... it’s like I run a boardinghouse!) as soon as his shift finishes and to bring restaurant food and favor ideas with him ... salvation is on the way. I look down at my list. The next thing is the centerpieces.

  Thankfully, Marion gave me a list of “Plaza Approved” vendors, which includes florists in Manhattan that they believe work to The Plaza’s high standards. I flip through the information she gave me and see that one of the florists is only a few blocks from my apartment. My Secret Garden—that’s the one for me! I check the clock and think there is a good chance they could still be open, so I put all my outdoor gear back on and head out to take care of the flowers while I’m waiting for Justin to come and save the favor day.

  I’m on such a roll ordering flowers for Jamie’s shower that I don’t even realize how much time has passed until my cell phone rings. It’s Justin.

  “I’m here with food and you’re not,” he says jokingly.

  “Oh no! I’m on my way. Keep it warm!”

  I explain to the florist that my fiancé is waiting for me ... I get a giddy schoolgirl feeling whenever I use the word “fiancé” in everyday life. I pay her the deposit for the shower flowers and arrange to pick them up and a time to come back to make the final flower selections for the wedding.

  “Bring your fiancé,” she instructs me.

  “Great idea!” I agree, knowing that Justin’s taste in flowers is bound to be as flawless as his taste in everything else is.

  I make it home faster than I got there and join the boys, who didn’t wait for me, over the seared ahi rolls and Saporos.

  “Good news!” I exclaim. “Favors are taken care of (Iris brilliantly suggested making the centerpieces potted roses that guests can keep) ... tonight we can actually relax!”

  They cheer as we all dig in.

  38

  Cake Tasting

  When I wake up the next morning there is only one thought running through my head: TGIF. Thank Goodness It’s Friday. Although my weekend is going to be anything but restful, I’m still glad that this insane week is coming to an end. Plus, Fridays are half-days at my school, which means that by 1:00 P.M. I will be able to completely focus on finding the cake for Jamie’s shower (and, I hope, my wedding).

  I shuffle through the living room, still in a sleepy haze, toward the kitchen to make coffee. It’s so hard to get out of bed on these cold, dark mornings. At least I have the lure of a two-week winter break from school in just one week to keep me going. While my little students look forward to Canadian ski trips and tropical cruises for the holidays, I just look forward to a little more free time and my own little Christmas tree ... although this year it will be tricky since space is sparse here nowadays.

  Justin stirs as I move past him, and by the time I shuffle back through the living room, a little more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed thanks to a huge mug of coffee, he’s sitting up. “Good morning,” I say quietly.

  “Morning,” he grumbles.

  I swear, he is the worst morning person I have ever met.

  “Coffee in the kitchen.”

  “Good.”

  I head into the bathroom to start my morning routine. I do the same things every morning. First stop: coffee. Second stop: shower. When I get out of the shower, I put my hair in a towel and go back to my room to make my bed and lay out my outfit. Then I return to the bathroom for the teeth brushing, moisturizer application, deodorant application, and blow-drying ... plus a little makeup so I don’t frighten the children. Then I go back to my room, get dressed, and head to work, grabbing some sort of food from the kitchen on my way out ... how elaborate the food is depends on how quickly I’ve completed the morning’s routine.

  Today I’ve moved pretty quickly, so I have time to fully toast a low-fat Pop Tart before heading into the cold. Justin comes into the kitchen to fill what is probably his third cup of coffee.

  “I’m going cake shopping for Jamie’s shower cake and hopefully the wedding cake this afternoon. Want to join?”

  “No way, Molly! I’m off carbs this week. I can’t cake taste.”

  “Right, I forgot ... no carbs. Do you have any wedding cake requests?”

  Not that he’s going to get to eat it, but I’m being nice.

  “Something low-carb if they have it.”

  “Right,” I say as I think, no way.

  I head out the door, bundled in as much wool as I own. It is really cold this year ... or maybe it’s the same. Every winter I think, this is the coldest ever, and every summer I think, this is the hottest ever. Who knows? As I walk, my mind is a whirlpool of thoughts. I’ve got wedding thoughts, baby-shower thoughts, Mom thoughts, Jamie thoughts, Justin thoughts, and the one that my brain keeps stopping on the most: Brad thoughts.

  I haven’t spoken to him since we danced at the engagement party and things seemed like they could possibly return to a quasi-normal state. I was hoping he would call me in the past week, but he hasn’t. What the heck? I think as I pull out my cell phone and dial his. I’ll be the bigger and better person ... plus I’m not expecting to actually get him.

  “Hello?” he answers. Why is it that whenever I am expecting a machine I get a person?

  “Hey, it’s Molly.”

  “What’s up?” he says warmly, but not as warmly as he used to ... or am I being as overly sensitive about this as I am about the weather thing?

  “Not too much ... wedding planning, baby-shower planning, finishing school. What’s up with you?”

  “About the same ... but without the baby shower and the finishing school ... and really, just doing what a snotty coordinator who goes by the name Bliss tells me to do for wedding planning.”

  “Haha ... what are your ‘jobs?’”

  “Well, I’ve had to get myself measured for a tux ... twice because Claire and Bliss didn’t think the measurements looked right, even though they were. And I have to select the cake since Claire doesn’t eat refined sugar, and I have to pick the band. I think that’s all they’ve trusted me with.”

  “Hey, your list doesn’t sound totally different than mine, except my snotty wedding planner goes by the name Mom.”

  We laugh together and it feels slightly like old times.

  “So you’re on cake patrol, too? Gee ... what a surprise.”

  “W
ell, I am a bit of a connoisseur.” I pause for a second, hoping that I don’t get hurt by Brad again. “Actually, I’m going cake tasting this afternoon—want to join me?”

  He pauses for a second and I’m sorry I asked, but then he says, “I’d love to!”

  “Fantastic. School lets out at 12:15. I’ll call you then.”

  “Great. See you in a few.” CLICK.

  Wow. I can’t believe he said yes. What a pleasant, happy, wonderful surprise. This is how wedding planning should be ... not with an overly controlling mother or a fake, gay fiancé ... with a best friend. I’m completely excited to pick my wedding cake with Brad ... and the shower cake ... ugh ... I’ve got to remember the shower cake!

  Thankfully, the day flies by, and before I know it the kids are gone for the weekend and I’m packing up my stuff. I jump when I hear a knock at my classroom door and stiffen with nerves about who could be on the other side and how long they will detain me from the afternoon I’m looking forward to.

  “Come in.”

  You won’t believe who it is. Brad. Standing at the door of my classroom with his big, twinkling grin.

  “What are you doing here?!?”

  “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “Well, you definitely have. A very pleasant surprise,” I admit as I cross the room and give him a big, warm hug.

  Brad waits while I pack up the rest of my stuff, which recently has been more wedding-related than school-related, and then we head off to Cakery Bakery on the Upper West Side. Marion had recommended it (it’s “Plaza Approved”) and Bliss had also given it her stamp, so we figure we will be in good hands. I called this morning during recess and although they didn’t seem thrilled by the last-minuteness, they gave me an appointment for this afternoon. Phew.

  Brad and I take the bus through the park and have only a short walk between the bus stop and the adorable storefront that is Cakery Bakery. We walk inside and quickly find that this bakery is as charming as its name. Every surface from the floor to the ceiling seems to be painted a different color ... some solid, some patterned. There is SO much going on, but it works. There is a hip yet motherly woman behind the counter who I assume must be the same woman I spoke to on the phone this morning.