Not Quite A Bride

by Kirsten Sawyer

I am so tired that I feel sick as Logan gently shakes me and tries to get my eyes open. A split second after I regain consciousness I remember what today is and I bolt upright, then I quickly shove past him to the bathroom to throw up. We’re off to a great start.

  Thank God for my brother; he is a saint. He’s right behind me, holding my hair back and reassuring me that today is going to be great ... just how I planned it. Didn’t I tell you he’s the sweetest kid ever born? When my stomach is empty, he runs a bath for me and even brings me a 7-Up, which I sip miserably as I sit beneath the bottle of bubble bath he poured in for me.

  I must admit that after the bath, the soda, and a marathon session of relaxation breathing, my nerves and misery are replaced with just the tiniest bit of excitement. Today is my wedding day, and the only one I will ever get, so it’s time to keep my eyes on the prize, as Logan reminded me last night, and get the show on the road.

  I pull out my copy of Marion’s schedule for the big day and check that I am supposed to be at The Plaza at 9:30 A.M. to meet the family for breakfast. It’s 8:45 now, so I only have a short time to get myself dressed and head over to the hotel with Logan. I manage to dress myself and am in the process of triple-checking my bags to ensure that I have everything I need ready to go when the front door buzzer goes off.

  Before I have time to think about who could be ringing my bell the morning of my wedding, Mom and Jamie are charging into my room in a tornado of excitement. I have a quick flashback to Justin’s premonition the night before that my family could surprise me in the morning ... I owe so much to him. Sure enough, they do have a great surprise for me ... a limo waiting downstairs to take us all to The Plaza to get the day started. A rush of excitement washes over me as I grab the bags and follow them to the door, where Logan is waiting with a huge grin. Logan and I confirm with each other that we both have everything we need before giving Tiffany a super-large breakfast and dinner-sized portion of kitty kibble and heading out the door.

  In front of my apartment is a gleaming white stretch limo. Logan opens the door and I stick my head in to find Dad, Bryan, and Kate a mile away sitting in the very back of the car. I climb in and hug all three before joining my younger brother and sister in playing with every knob, switch, dial, and button in the car. We play all the way to the hotel, turning music on and off, opening and closing windows and sunroofs (that’s right, there are two), and generally annoying everyone else.

  Our troop reaches The Plaza without Dad threatening to “turn this car around!” the way he would when we were little and acting like we are today. To be honest, even Dad played with a few switches ... this family is in a mood too good to be destroyed, and it is contagious. Marion is waiting for us in the lobby in what I think must be her casual outfit ... stiff-looking khaki slacks and a crisp, button-down blouse tucked in. She looks different when she isn’t in her pastel power suits ... almost motherly. She’d probably impale herself on her enormous ring if she heard me describe her like that.

  Marion escorts us all up to our suite where breakfast is already waiting. The tears begin as soon as I see the breakfast. Besides my favorite eggs Benedict and hot chocolate, there is a plate of pumpkin scones from Starbucks. For a split second my mind jumps back to Justin and what will happen this afternoon, but a squeeze on my shoulder from Logan helps me return it to the back of my mind. We all dig into the feast that awaits us and, in typical Harrigan fashion, don’t stop until there isn’t a speck of food left on the table. Then we all drape our bodies over the numerous couches, plush chairs, and, of course, the king-sized bed, trying to ward off food comas. Having my whole family around me and so happy makes me happy ... moments like this are when I feel like my whole plan is worthwhile.

  After we do some digesting and get some energy back, the boys are shuffled off to their room (not suite) to get ready. Since it doesn’t take them nearly as many hours to get ready as it takes us girls, I think they make plans to hit some golf balls or see a movie. The girls definitely don’t have time for that kind of playing around. Moments after the food is wheeled away, Eden shows up with a suitcase of hair and makeup supplies to get started on us.

  Jamie is in the middle of feeding Kate and Mom is going over some last-minute details with Marion, so I am the first one to head to the “vanity area,” as Marion calls it. I try to relax and enjoy it as Eden sets up her equipment and starts pulling, curling, and spraying my hair. As she works, I’m reminded of the day of our run-through when Justin was supervising. There have been some fun times during all of this wedding insanity.

  Before I know it, my hair and face are perfect replicas of the Polaroids taken by Justin weeks ago. Everything looks exactly how I dreamed it would, and I am relocated to the comfortable couch in front of the window overlooking Central Park while Jamie moves into the vanity area. As I sit there alone, well, Kate is with me, but she is napping, I stare out the window at the people in the park having a regular old Saturday while I have the biggest day of my life. It’s a strange feeling ... like I am somehow detached from the rest of the world today. I stare, stalker-style, at the families with children and the couples holding hands ... for some reason, I am mesmerized.

  Jamie returning from Eden’s clutches, and beckoning for Mom to get in there, finally breaks my trance. Jamie looks stunning ... I am constantly amazed at what motherhood has done for her. She was always beautiful, but since becoming Kate’s mother, her Jan Brady tendencies have significantly lessened. Her hairdo is a low and loose chignon. It almost looks like a haphazard bun, except for the sweeping side part and the intricacy of the hair knot. It looks absolutely beautiful.

  “Do you have your something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue?” she asks me as she casually beams at her sleeping daughter.

  Yikes, with all of Martha’s lists and Marion’s orders, nobody had specifically reminded me about this old tradition.

  “Let’s see ... my dress is new, and my garter has a blue bow on it ...” I trail off as I search the room for some old stuff I can borrow.

  “Your engagement ring is old,” Jamie reminds me.

  I feel a twinge as I look down at my hand where Nana’s ring sparkles as brilliantly as ever. Being able to wear this special ring for a year has been a true gift ... but I cannot look at the ring without thinking about what Nana would think if she knew what I was doing. Nana was a true romantic. She loved weddings because of the romance—not the flowers, dresses, and cakes, but what they symbolized. It is now painfully clear to me that she would not approve of my great plan, and every time I look at her ring—the ring that my grandfather had made especially for his true love—I have to acknowledge this.

  “So you just need something borrowed,” Jamie continues as she walks toward me. She stands in front of me and holds out her hand. “I want you to borrow the diamond earrings that Mom and Dad gave me as a wedding present,” she says as she opens her palm to show the sparkling studs.

  “Really?” I ask.

  “It would be my greatest honor as matron of honor,” she says with a giggle.

  I stand up and we hug as tightly as two people can when they are being protective of hairdos and makeup jobs. We also blink furiously to prevent tears from streaking our faces.

  Once Mom is finished with Eden—and looking amazing, I might add—we begin to get ready. It’s crazy how fast the day has flown by. Around noon, room service revisits our suite with tiny finger sandwiches that we nibble while trying not to mess up our makeup. We have a short time to relax, but my mother’s sister Belinda comes by to wish us well and deliver two dozen long-stemmed roses for me. A short while later, Alex, Lauren, and Maggie come up, bearing a plate of my favorite chocolate chip break-and-bake cookies.

  Too quickly, it is time to put on our dresses, which also means that the hardest parts are getting closer. First, the three of us together put on the flower girl dress we got for the still-sleeping, six-month-old Kate. The dress is the same hydrangea blue as the sash on Jamie’s white maid
-of-honor dress ... the exact dress that Justin had proclaimed would be perfect when we selected our flowers with Iris so long ago (thank goodness for the Internet).

  Kate could not look more adorable in her blue dress with a white bow around her chubby middle and another white bow around her bald head. Next, Mom and Jamie get dressed. Jamie looks stunning in the white dress, thanks to a visit to the Mystic Tan and some blond streaks in her sandy hair. She looks like she has spent the last six months jogging on a beach, not nursing an infant. Mom also looks her best in a stunning mother-of-the-bride suit. It’s champagne-colored silk with a beautifully beaded jacket and knee-length skirt. Finally they are ready and I am the only one left in my regular clothes.

  Getting me into my dress is no small feat. Once I carefully remove my tank top by pulling it down over my hips, I have to be hooked into my special, girdlelike bra. It sounds more uncomfortable than it is ... it is actually the first strapless bra I’ve ever worn that hasn’t slipped down, and it makes me look like I have a good amount of cleavage. Once the foundations are in place, I step into the dress and try my best to stand still while Mom and Jamie button up the back. When the dress is on, I steal a look in the mirror ... it looks as beautiful as I’d remembered it. Finally my feet are slipped into my white satin sandals and my little crown and veil are attached around my up-do. It’s showtime, as Justin would say.

  Just as we finish, the phone in the room rings. It’s Dad telling us it’s time to get down there. Mom and Jamie head for the door with Kate and me to follow.

  “I just need one second alone,” I tell them.

  “Okay, are you sure you want to be alone?” Mom checks.

  “Yes, I’m okay—I just want a second. I’ll meet you down there.”

  They agree and head out the grand double doors, leaving me alone in the suite.

  I stand in front of the room’s full-length, three-way mirror, feeling almost paralyzed. I can’t believe that it’s really me draped in white satin and tulle. I feel like I’m playing dress-up. I guess the fact is that I am ... and I can’t shake the feeling that any minute now, the real bride is going to burst through the door and show me for the imposter that I really am.

  This is how I am feeling when there is a knock on the door, and so I jump, startled that my neurotic fear is coming true. I don’t respond to the knock, silently praying that whoever is there will go away, but instead the door opens. Without moving my feet, I turn and steady myself for the wrath that is to come. Instead of a bride on the rampage, it’s Brad standing on the right side of the suite’s double doorway. I honestly think I would have been less surprised if it had been a psychotic Bridezilla.

  “Brad?” I ask, thinking there is a chance that my eyes are deceiving me.

  “Molly, I need to talk to you,” Brad says with great urgency.

  “Now?”

  “I can’t wait.” He rushes in and then he pauses for a second. “You look amazing.”

  I suddenly remember where I am and what the day is. I turn back to the mirror and look down my body at the white gown and then back up. When my eyes reach the top, they land on the reflection of Brad’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say and neither of us shifts our gaze for another beat.

  “I need to talk to you,” Brad repeats.

  “Okay,” I tell him, easily ignoring the fact that I am supposed to be staging my fake wedding any second now.

  “You can’t go through with this,” Brad states matter-of-factly.

  “What?” I ask weakly, positive and mortified that Brad has gotten wind of my insane plan.

  “You cannot marry Justin,” Brad states, this time sounding slightly desperate.

  He doesn’t know about the plan. He thinks that I am moments away from saying “I do,” on the happiest day of my life and he is trying to stop me. My head spins for a moment. How dare he?

  “How dare you?” I say out loud.

  “Molly ...” Brad starts, but I cut him off.

  “I can’t believe you’re trying to ruin my happiness!” I say, getting louder.

  “I love you,” Brad says in his normal voice. “I’m in love with you,” he says, a bit quieter.

  I don’t hear him, though. I am so wound up and angry that I only hear myself scream, “Get out!”

  Brad opens his mouth to say something. Maybe to protest the exile I have demanded, but before he can get a word out, I scream “NOW!” so loud that my guests downstairs probably hear.

  Brad looks down at his shoes as he turns and walks out of the suite. He doesn’t say another word or look back. It feels like forever before I finally hear the suite’s door close and I exhale ... I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath. I turn my full attention back to the mirror. My face is as red as a cherry.

  Anger surges through me. I am in disbelief that Brad would make yet another attempt to ruin my wedding. All the times he tried before were bad enough, but to try on the actual day of ... and just minutes before the ceremony!!! His nerve is truly unbelievable.

  I look in the mirror again and take a deep breath. I have to compose myself. I cannot let him ruin this for me. I have put too much into this day; I have made too many sacrifices. It is literally taking all my strength not to let this minor setback completely derail me. I shake with anger as I try to take deep, relaxing breaths. Just for the record, they aren’t working.

  Eyes on the prize, I remind myself. This is it ... the finish line ... the final frontier. Today is the day I’ve been dreaming about and working for. It is SO like Brad to try and ruin it, but I will not let him. All the anxiety I was feeling is overtaken by this anger and I take that anger and use it to fuel my confidence. I’m ready for showtime, as Justin would say. Let’s get the show on the road.

  55

  The Big Moment

  This is where we met.

  “Today is my wedding day ... it should be the happiest day of my life. It should be the day that at long last all my dreams are realized and I embark on the love boat to the island of happiness and bliss that everyone else has already been living on. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Instead this day is worse than I ever imagined it could be. I’m standing in a suite at The Plaza hotel ... no expense has been spared in pursuit of matrimonial perfection. I am wearing my dream, white (at last!) Vera Wang strapless wedding gown. My fantasy wedding is minutes away from beginning and I’m finally realizing what I have done.”

  Sound familiar?

  I look in the mirror once more, still trying to catch my breath and calm myself down, and then I look around the beautiful suite and remember each second I’ve had in it—from yesterday when my parents surprised me, to today. My whole family has been beyond generous and loving with everything to do with this wedding and I have lied, hugely and blatantly, to them. My selfishness has been monumental. As I stand here, ready to go play the part I rehearsed all night, I am finally appalled at myself for concocting such a plan and going through with it. Don’t get me wrong ... I recognize that I have had many happy moments and I could even stretch things so far as to say that I’ve given my family joy through the planning of this wedding ... but when it comes down to the cold, hard, truth ... I’ve fucked up.

  My mind is still racing when there is a gentle knock on the door. I jump slightly, my confidence wavering as I fear that it could be Brad again. I feel another surge of anger before calling to whoever is outside that they may come in. It is Ashley, Marion’s assistant. She looks more like a member of the secret service than a wedding coordinator today with her headset and clipboard.

  “Molly? Are you ready?” she asks gently.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I admit, and start toward the door.

  The walk down to the ceremony is surreal, to say the least. As I walk through the halls of the hotel, people stop and stare at me, and they whisper to each other or wish me congratulations. One little girl even tugs on her mother’s skirt as she points at me in awe. They all think they know what today holds for me
... they are wrong.

  I finally get to the room where my dad is waiting to escort me down the aisle. I take a peek inside and am surprised to see both sides of the aisle almost equally full. At the front of the room is an amazing arch of pink, blue, and white hydrangeas ... it’s stunning. Logan is standing underneath it with the minister. I can tell from all the way back here that he is nervous. Mom is sitting in the front row and Jamie is about to push Kate down the aisle in a beautifully decorated pram. I give her a tight hug before watching her walk down the aisle to “Canon in D.” Then I turn and look at Dad, trying to run through what is going to happen in my head one final time. He doesn’t seem to notice that anything is wrong.

  Just as the “Wedding March” begins to play and my dad reaches for my arm, Marion rushes up to us in a flurry. Finally somebody realizes the groom is missing! She is more unkempt than I have ever seen her, despite wearing one of her more beautiful Chanel suits ... her hair is messed up from pulling her headset on and off and she is sweating a little around the brow. The disheveled look definitely doesn’t suit her. As she screeches to a halt in front of us, she gulps to catch her breath and regain her composure. Marion pauses for a split second before opening her mouth to speak to us, then holds up one finger, turns around and hisses, “Stop the music!” into her headset, then turns back to us and takes another deep breath.

  “Now, Molly,” she begins, never missing a chance to slip a “now” in, “we are having a tricky time locating Justin.”

  I almost have to giggle at the way she phrases Justin’s absence, but I focus and remember what I am supposed to do: step one: confusion.

  “What do you mean?” I ask her with only a little panic in my voice. The truth is, I don’t need to fake the panic because I do feel a bit anxious.

  “We’re sure he’s around here somewhere ... relax dear, this happens all the time. A groom will go to get a breath of fresh air or a drink of water right before ceremony time without realizing how long he is gone. Just relax for one more minute and we’re going to find him in a jiff.” She smiles at me sympathetically before hissing into her headset, “Ashley! Find the groom! STAT!” She then turns back to us with another smile before she slips away.