Diary of a Mad Bride
Page 18
Lucy called with the name of the niece of a friend of hers in Wisconsin who is married to a caterer in upstate New York. Confusing? Yes. But at least it works in my favor. Jeb is a graduate of the American Culinary Arts School and he’s willing to work within our budget.
All hail Lucy!
april 16th
Mrs. Stewart has invited me to join Kimberly and her next weekend at the annual Kennel Club Invitational. Chuffy’s showing in the “Open Bitch” category. Whatever that means.
Reasons to go:
Nice to bond with future mother-in-law.
Reasons NOT to go:
Afraid to bond with future mother-in-law.
Don’t like Kimberly.
Don’t like dogs that much.
Reasons why I HAVE to go:
Mother-in-law will never forgive me if I say no.
What do you wear to a dog show?
april 17th
I went upstate today to meet with Jeb the caterer. His house is like a glorified log cabin tucked deep in the woods, so I expected he’d be a Grizzly Adams type. But no. He’s this middle-aged white guy with dreadlocks. Standing in his huge commercial kitchen, he was busy slicing raw onions into a salad for a local horticulture club. His eyes were so bloodshot he could barely see, but he cut straight to the chase.
“Here’s the 411, Amy. No way we’re doing lobster risotto and pumpkin bisque for ninety people with your budget. End of story. But I appreciate your not wanting to go the traditional route of chicken, beef medallions, et cetera. So my suggestion is to go ethnic. Mix things up. Do some couscous, stewed vegetables, seared fruits, then throw a little lamb in there to sate everyone’s carnal needs. I know that your group isn’t accustomed to feasting on nuts and berries, but these things are cheap. Besides, it’ll enable you to put your money into some top-quality lamb. It’ll seem expensive, but it won’t be. We’ll craft a visual presentation so sensual it’ll look like Manet on a plate.
My mom, Mrs. Stewart, and Mandy are going to hate this guy. I gave him a deposit on the spot.
april 18th
Mr. and Mrs. Stewart are struggling to establish a vaguely civil relationship for the sake of their children. How thoughtful. Unfortunately they’ve decided to use our wedding as Part One of the peace process.
Their first point of agreement in a year and a half: They will jointly host (read: pay for) our rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding. Mrs. Stewart will select the restaurant. Mr. Stewart will split the cost.
Their second point of agreement in a year and a half: Stephen’s brother, Tom, can’t be a guest at the wedding. He must be a groomsman.
Stephen is furious. I’m incredulous. Tom is delighted. He’s already called Stephen twice to say he won’t wear a cummerbund.
Tom, Mitch, and Larry. It’s like having the Three Stooges at our wedding. So why pay for live entertainment—when I can just shoot myself instead?
april 19th
Now that Tom’s a groomsman, I need another bridesmaid. I thought about asking Kathy or Paula, but I just kept coming back to Anita. It’s simply the right thing to do—whether she knows it or not.
So after forty-five minutes of begging her to see things from my perspective, and ultimately invoking her poetic endorsement of my marriage to Stephen43, Anita finally agreed, “Well if I’m going to be at the circus, I might as well be one of the clowns.”
Ain’t love grand?
* * *
43 “Maybe it won’t be so pathetic.”
april 20th
My third fitting with Katrina. It’s barely two months away from the most important fashion day of my life and I still look like I should be birthing livestock rather than getting married.
Every time she asks how the “retooling” is going, I just want to scream.
As God is my witness I’m going to bury this dress the minute my wedding is over.
Meanwhile Mandy wants to know if I’ve chosen the bridesmaids’ dresses. She’s worried about having enough time to properly accessorize.
The bride won’t have shoes, but the maid of honor will have a stunning handbag.
Since I can barely dress myself for this event I’ve decided to relinquish all issues concerning bridesmaids’ dresses to Mandy. I don’t even care if she, Nicole, and Anita wear the same style. Let them choose something they like and will wear again. As long as it’s ankle length and sleeveless I’ll be happy.
That should please Anita. She’s got fabulous upper arms.
april 21st
I finally got a chance to call Piece-A Cake. They scheduled a tasting for June 6th. Stephen’s promised to come with me. Since I view the cake as a symbol of our union, it needs to be something we both like. But since I’m allergic to hazelnuts (I break out in hives) and mocha gives him migraines (it reminds him of a particularly stressful childhood vacation his family took in Zurich), we’ve got to be careful. Luckily we both like strawberry.
april 22nd
The Kennel Club Invitational was today. Who knew dogs used hairspray? Chuffy herself wore more Aqua Net than all the geriatric women of south Florida. Sure she was sticky, but she looked good.
And when’s the last time you heard a bunch of well-dressed people say things like “She’s a delightful bitch.” Can’t remember? Well, welcome to Thousand Pines Country Club in upstate New York! Sure they allow blacks and Jews, but half-breed mutts without pedigree? Forget it. The local pound’s down the road.
The fact is, these pooches are worth more than I am. It’s humbling. Not to mention educational. Among the many things I learned today:
• If the ship were sinking and Mrs. Stewart could save only one family member, she’d choose Chuffy.
• Kimberly has an unrelenting obsession with expensive jewelry. Particularly that which now belongs to me.
• Never wear open-toe shoes to a dog show.
april 23rd
Bianca Sheppard’s getting married again. Who knew she was even dating? I called Mandy the minute I got the invitation. Apparently Bianca met George Carson a few weeks ago at the dermatologist’s office. She had heat rash. He had eczema. Love was a foregone conclusion.
And who knows? Maybe the fifth time’s a charm. I hope so—for George’s sake.
They’re getting married here in the city in the Markson Hotel ballroom (where I happen to know the basic venue charge starts at $12,000). And even though it’s just two weeks before our wedding, I think we’ll go anyway. By that point I’ll be thrilled to think about a wedding other than my own.
april 24th
It’s been more than three weeks since my last sex dream. At this rate I’ll be off Anita’s sleeping meds any day now.
And though I’m enormously relieved, it’s also begun to strike me as a bit depressing that getting married means denying yourself the right to such pleasures. Maybe Anita’s right. Maybe these dreams are harmless. After all, I am marrying Stephen. What greater commitment could I offer another human being? Does dreaming of lustful sex with someone else take anything away from that? Do I love Stephen any less? Of course not. And I bet Stephen would agree. After all, he’s free to have sex dreams too if he wants. It wouldn’t bother me a bit. Unless, of course, he was dreaming about Louise. I mean, come on, she’s built like friggin’ Barbie. But it doesn’t matter. Stephen wouldn’t have sex dreams. Sure he likes sex. A lot, actually. But he’s not the type to dream about it.
Is he?
april 25th
The shit has officially hit the fan.
I got a phone call at 1:30 this afternoon from George Harriman of Harriman Carpets, one of the “Faces in the City” profiles. He’d been sitting at the Park Avenue Café for over an hour waiting for me to show up to a lunch meeting that I didn’t even know was scheduled. He was understandably ticked off. I apologized profusely for the mix-up, promised to reschedule with his secretary, then stormed out of my office and gave Kate a scolding that she’d never forget. I reminded her that Mr. Harriman’s profile was a focal point
of the issue, that Mr. Harriman’s time was incredibly valuable, as he’s on the board of directors for over twelve different charitable organizations, was the regional spokesperson for the Urban Children’s League, and ran one of the biggest carpet companies in the country. Then I told her the next time she wanted to forget to inform me about a meeting she should choose someone less important.
That’s when Kate stood up and informed me that she had told me about the meeting, that it was written in my appointment book, and that she had included it on today’s itinerary—a copy of which was sitting on top of my desk.
I looked at my appointment book. She was absolutely right. The meeting was right there. The whole thing was my fault. And everyone in the office knew it.
april 26th—2 A.M.
I can’t sleep.
I keep thinking about that girl in my freshman literature class. The one who married the guy with chronic dandruff. She was so desperate to marry and there were hundreds of guys to choose from—wealthy, handsome, pre-med, pre-law, well-groomed. But she chose the one with decent tennis skills and dandruff.
I used to think it was an act of desperation, but now I think maybe it was love.
april 26th
I broke down today in the office bathroom. Tears of appreciation all over the place.
Because things aren’t good. They’re great.
When all this fighting, negotiating, and planning is over I am going to spend the rest of my life with the world’s most incredible man. Someone who may not be perfect but who understands me, accepts my faults, loves my strengths, and keeps me smiling no matter how many foolish ideas he has about our wedding band.
I don’t ever want another wet and wild sex dream again. Not about Rick or Anthony or Jon or Denny or Jonas or Tim or Dylan.
All I want is Stephen. My wonderfully boring Stephen!
Overwhelmed by emotion, I decided to call Stephen’s office and share my love. Louise answered his phone. Apparently Stephen had stepped away from his desk. After offering to take a message she mentioned how sorry she was that the Ecuadorian woodwind band had fallen through. It seems she’s a fan.
But if the band plays in the subway station near Stephen’s house and Louise lives all the way across town, how does she know what they sound like?
Breathe. I must remember to breathe.
And then I called Anita.
ME
This is a warning. Louise is a sign. I’ve been inconsiderate, self-centered, and I enjoyed my sex dreams. I’m being punished.
ANITA
By whom?
ME
By God!
ANITA
God? I thought you were an agnostic.
ME
I am. I was. Maybe I’m reconsidering.
ANITA
Don’t tell me you found God while planning your wedding. Where was she? Hiding in the flatware department?
ME
I’m being serious, Anita.
ANITA
That’s what worries me. Look, this is why I didn’t want you to get married. It’s turning you into an idiot. Besides, assuming there is a God, don’t you think she’d be more merciful than to pit one woman against another?
ME
You’ve got a point.
ANITA
That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said in months. Now remember, if you start hearing strange voices, it’s not God—it’s your Inner Bride. So unless she’s telling you to serve premium liquors at your reception, silence her immediately. She’s insane.
april 27th
The good news and the bad news.
The good news: I went upstate tonight to sample the menu Jeb is proposing for our wedding reception. Lamb with almonds and currants, couscous, and glazed yams…It was fabulous! As is Jeb, who continues to be the most pleasant, easygoing man, despite his ongoing battle with hay fever. I may not be having a fancy New York City wedding in some elegant ballroom, but you can be damn sure the food will be KICK-ASS. No beef medallions for this gal.
The bad news: On the way back to the train station I stopped in the mall to buy a twelve-pack of nylons. A man was taking a leak against the side of the building. It was Reverend MacKenzie.
While You Were Out
4/29 11:05 A.M.
From: Your Wedding Photographer
Message: Has a last-minute double suicide to photograph. Needs to reschedule this afternoon’s meeting about portraits.
While You Were Out
4/29 11:06 A.M.
From: Kate
Message: Your voice mail box is too full to accept messages. Please empty it IMMEDIATELY.
While You Were Out
4/29 11:15 A.M.
From: Mandy
Message: Has chosen an ankle-length sleeveless dress made of Asian nubby silk in an elegant cherub pink with a hint of silver for the bridesmaids. Will this coordinate with your tablecloths?
While You Were Out
4/29 11:25 A.M.
From: Julie Browning
Message: Anne Von Trier wants a guarantee that her profile will be ahead of James Royce’s. Can she do that?
While You Were Out
4/29 11:35 A.M.
From: Anita
Message: What the hell is “Asian nubby silk in an elegant cherub pink with a hint of silver” and why does she have to wear it?
While You Were Out
4/29 11:43 A.M.
From: Jeb the caterer
Message: Has forgotten how many people he’s supposed to be feeding at your wedding.
While You Were Out
4/29 11:45 A.M.
From: Mr. Spaulding
Message: Bring the article drafts for the June issue to the 12:30 meeting.
While You Were Out
4/29 11:49 A.M.
From: Mandy
Message: Please inform Anita that verbal abuse is an inappropriate mode of communication among civilized human beings. Especially since cherub pink will help to offset her sallow undertones.
While You Were Out
4/29 12:04 P.M.
From: Anita
Message: The entire concept of bridesmaids and bridesmaids’ dresses is hateful and barbaric. Could she tend bar instead?
While You Were Out
4/29 12:15 P.M.
From: Stephen
Message: Has to work late again. Don’t wait up.
While You Were Out
4/29 12:25 P.M.
From: Rick
Message: “Long time no see.” Back in town. Has a conga-drum gig at the China Club tonight. Wants to catch up.
While You Were Out
4/29 12:35 P.M.
From: Mr. Spaulding
Message: They’re waiting for you in the 12:30 meeting.
While You Were Out
4/29 12:48 P.M.
From: Kate
Message: Payroll doesn’t have my check. You never signed my time sheet. My rent is due TOMORROW.
While You Were Out
4/29 12:53 P.M.
From: Mr. Spaulding Message: Where are you?
While You Were Out
4/29 1:05 P.M.
From: Mr. Spaulding
Message: Wants to see you in his office immediately.
While You Were Out
4/29 1:06 P.M.
From: Macy’s Linen Department
Message: Your grandmother-in-law has purchased monogrammed towels for you. The store needs to confirm the spelling of your name. Is it “Stewart” or “Stuart”?
While You Were Out
4/29 1:06 P.M.
From: Kate
Message: I quit.
april 30th
Mr. Spaulding called me into his office to discuss my ability to see my “Faces in the City” issue through to completion. Perhaps Barry should take over. The weasel! I adamantly assured him that wouldn’t be necessary. He’s giving me one more—read: LAST—chance.
Meanwhile, Kate has really gone. Poof! Like a cloud of angry smoke. She
requested her final paycheck and COBRA medical extension. She even took her Backstreet Boys screen saver. Barry is livid.
And I feel horrible. About Kate. Not Barry. My life has become this huge mass of scary—that spews. I’d run from me too, if I could. But I can’t.
april 30th—10 P.M.
If a man who is prone to spontaneous gestures suddenly proposes marriage, what are the chances that he really means it? Sure, he planned my proposal. Sort of. But it’s not like he ever mentioned marriage before that.
april 30th—10:30 P.M.
MANDY
Well at least this time you had the decency to have your panic attack before my bedtime.
ME
I’m serious, Mandy. Do you think he regrets proposing?
MANDY
Did he actually go with you to register for sheets?
ME
Yes.
MANDY
Then what greater sign of commitment do you expect from a man? Now, relax. There’s no reason to worry.
may 2nd
The first step in solving a problem is admitting you have one: I can’t plan this wedding alone.
There, I said it. Ugly but true—I need HELP.
I’d ask Stephen but he’s too consumed with his computer program. He can barely get dressed in the morning let alone help plan a wedding reception. As for the band he’s supposed to hire…I figure we’ll be firing up my dad’s 8-track and poppin’ in some Pat Boone.
Then there’s Mandy, who despite her pledge of fealty has basically retreated into the matrimonial black hole with Jon.
It’s time for desperate measures.