The Chapel Wars

by Lindsey Leavitt

  “But I did. Decide.” Didn’t I?

  Lenore tossed the apple in the trash and wiped her hands. “All I’m saying is you can’t let someone else’s dead dream keep you from finding your own.”

  I would never say this out loud, at the risk that Lenore might be recording the conversation so she could continuously play back my words, but … she was right. Maybe she had learned something of value at that Liberal Arts College You’ve Never Heard Of.

  I was seventeen and already married to my job. If we’d saved the chapel, I would have always kept it. I’d been so focused on the chapel, focused on not letting anyone down. Now I didn’t know what to be focused on.

  “So, then … what do I do now?”

  Lenore shrugged. “What, you think I’m a psychic? I don’t know. Go hang out with your friends or make out with that boy across the street.” She sauntered to the doorway. “Oh, and hey, that couch in the lobby. Are we keeping it? I need more furniture for my dorm.”

  “Ask Donna.”

  I couldn’t believe that my answer didn’t come from Grandpa’s letter, U2, or even Elvis. Now I wished my sister would fill in the rest of the sentence for me.

  When your lifelong goal dies, what do you do with the rest of your life?

  Around closing, James asked the family to meet on the right side of the chapel for a surprise that “wasn’t going to get me in trouble, promise.” We gathered in the dirt lot, squinting in the twilight.

  “Honey, we have a lot of work to do,” Mom said.

  “No, you don’t. We’ll all be unemployed in a few hours,” James said happily. “First I want to get a picture of our family in front of the chapel. Dad said this is good lighting.”

  Dad cuffed James’s shoulder. “Caught the old photo bug.”

  “Yeah, I just need to set up the timer.” James ran over to the tripod, his hand fumbling in the cast. My family shuffled into a grouping. Dad took Mom’s hand. “Be sad to see this place go. Remember you walking down that aisle—you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

  “Were?”

  “You’re still up there,” Dad said.

  Mom laughed. “Guess we’re just being symbolic, blowing up our marriage, then the place where we started it.”

  “But we always go out in style, right, Lana?”

  Mom gave him a peck on the cheek. “We always do.”

  Dump a little more tragedy on the day, why don’t you? I hadn’t even thought about my parents’ getting married here, but they had, just like Dax’s parents had at Cupid’s Dream. This really would be a new beginning for them, not having to work with each other anymore. Even though I’d seen that fight, seen what they kept hidden, I hated that we were going to split up even more now.

  “Okay, squeeze in!” James ran back to us. He didn’t put his arm around anyone, but he actually looked at the camera and smiled. “Say Swiss.”

  “Why would we say Swiss?” Lenore asked.

  “Like the cheese, you, idiot.”

  Lenore flipped her braids just as the flash went off.

  Mom sighed. “Can we do another?”

  It took four more tries until everyone was satisfied.

  “Okay, now close your eyes.” James hopped around like we were about to get on his favorite ride at Disneyland. Not that James would ever admit that he liked Disneyland.

  “Juvenile,” Lenore said.

  “Have you ever seen James this excited?” I whispered. “Shut up and go with it.”

  I caught my parents smirking before closing my own eyes. We waited seven seconds. I peeked once, but there was nothing but the string of cars and the constant shuffle of tourists.

  “James?” Mom asked.

  The music started then. Live music. We looked at James, looked around. James sprinted around the chapel, and we followed. On top of the gift shop, behind our parking lot, was Grandpa’s U2 cover band. Of course, there was some other guy singing now, some young kid. Fake Bono held his arms up to the sky and soared into “Where the Streets Have No Name.” Just like the music video, except it was almost thirty years later in LV, not LA.

  “Is this really happening?” Lenore screamed. “How did you do this?”

  “I’m influential.” James jumped around.

  Mom and Dad stared at each other, speechless. Everyone from the chapel was already outside. Sam and Minister Dan started line dancing, and a crowd of passersby trickled over. Camille and Donna stayed at the front door with our next couple, bobbing their heads and smiling at the sky.

  Dax’s car was in the parking lot. He was in that chapel. He could hear the noise. I almost ran over when the door opened, but it was only Victor. He shook his fist and yelled something obscene. For old times’ sake.

  I didn’t let Dax’s absence get me down. This was a big day, he knew it was a big day, but … no. You can’t be down in the presence of Fake Bono.

  I grabbed James by his cast and shouted, “Why did you do this?”

  “Are you that stupid? It’s Grandpa’s birthday present.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone more than I did my brother in that moment. There couldn’t have been a better sendoff for Grandpa, for the chapel, for us. I gathered him into a big hug before he pushed me away. “That’s so not rock and roll.”

  “This song goes out to Jim Nolan, the man, the legend.” Fake Bono raised his fist to the sky. We did the same. A cop car pulled into the parking lot and an officer got out. “Hey, are you guys redoing that old U2 music video?”

  “I think so, officer,” Dad said.

  The officer mumbled into his walkie-talkie. “Okay. One more song, then I have to shut you down. You don’t have a permit for this.”

  Bono launched into “With or Without You,” the song Grandpa Jim used to sing to new couples. Dad took Mom’s hand and led her to the fourth parking spot to dance. I wished and wished that Dax would come outside.

  He didn’t. So I forced my little brother to dance with me. I didn’t know what was going to happen to our relationship once we closed our doors, but I still had my family, all the messy pieces of it.

  Chapter 24

  We gave away nine weddings that day. We didn’t spend money advertising the freebie, just offered it to whoever came in. The last couple to get married was in their seventies. I loved that we ended by marrying people as old as the chapel.

  My friends came over the next day to help me move everything out. Mom had an interview with a florist, and Dad had a gig. Or a date. Who knew, who cared. Visiting the chapel that day was like identifying a body in a morgue. No sense in putting everyone through the trauma.

  We packed up the files, Dad’s photography equipment, the candelabra. The pews would stay, along with the stained-glass window and gold urinals. Seemed stupid, since it was all going to get blown up, but we didn’t have a use for them now. What we kept was going into storage until we figured out what to do next.

  “Where are you going to work now?” Porter asked as we stacked Grandpa’s gallery of Irish landscapes into a box.

  “I’m not. I’m … taking a break.”

  “Do you even know how to do that?”

  “No.”

  Mike squealed as Sam chased him around with a soggy bouquet.

  “But I’m sure you guys can teach me how,” I said.

  Camille walked in, breezing past Mike and her ex. “I got your text. What can I do to help?”

  Sam dropped the bouquet. “What text?”

  They’d asked me to rearrange their work schedules so they were never together, and I’d complied. But yesterday everyone was there, and yesterday they’d made such a science of avoiding each other that I decided a mini intervention was at hand. I wanted to be friends with both of them, even if they were never going to get back together.

  Now I was rethinking the move.

  “Holly asked if I could come help out. This place was special for me too, and we’re all adults here.”

  “I’m not an adult.” Sam shoved pa
st me. “I’m getting my stuff, then bouncing.”

  “Sam, don’t. Come on.”

  “Um, Holly.” Grant was peeking out through the blinds. “You probably want to see this.”

  “What now?”

  “Uh … Dax? Is outside. With, a, uh … a chick.”

  The six of us rushed to the big window of the reception area, crowding around. Dax leaned on his driver’s side door, clad in a University of Alabama T-shirt and basketball shorts. The girl he was talking to had the roundest butt I’d ever seen.

  “I’d tap that,” Mike said.

  I elbowed him. I might have cracked a rib.

  Dax laughed at something the girl said and gave a modest shrug. I knew that shrug. It wasn’t modest. It was his way of saying, Yes, I know I’m wonderful, but I can’t come out and say it, right?

  “Did you guys break up?” Porter asked.

  “No. We sort of had a fight though.”

  Dax gave the girl a hug.

  “Maybe it’s his cousin,” Camille said hopefully.

  “I know that dude is from Alabama,” Grant said. “But I don’t hug my cousin like that.”

  My stomach felt like the lining had detached and dropped into my intestines. Who was she? When did he meet her? Did he already know her? Why was she there? Could he see us through the blinds? What was I supposed to do?

  “Why don’t you go out there and do something?” Sam asked.

  “Who, me?” Mike asked.

  “Yes, Mike. Of course you.” Sam smacked the back of his head. “Come on, Holls. Are you just going to let him go like that?”

  There was distance between them now. I wish the girl would turn around so I could see something besides her perky butt. “Like you let Camille go?” I asked.

  Grant smacked his thigh. “This is so much better than dressing up like showgirls.”

  “I didn’t let Camille go,” Sam said. “We’re totally different from you and Dax.”

  “Dax told me he loved me,” I said. “And then I didn’t do anything about it. You told Camille you wanted to marry her, and then when she didn’t want that, you walked away.”

  “It’s true,” Camille said.

  “Your boyfriend is out there feeling up another girl and you’re going to give me relationship grief?” Sam asked.

  “No. I’m just saying we both don’t have it all figured out.” I shrugged. “Dax is across a parking lot. Camille is in front of you.”

  “Exactly, I am standing right here, guys,” Camille said.

  “Fine.” Sam folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll take that bet. Camille. I still love you. I don’t care if you marry me. I don’t even care if you want to be my girlfriend. I just want to be around you again.”

  The room went quiet. Grant whistled until Porter nudged him.

  “Oh.” Camille picked a rhinestone on her manicure. “Sam. That would be great. But you should know, I’m seeing someone else too.”

  I could almost pinpoint the exact moment when Sam’s heart exploded. Right when Camille hit the second syllable in “someone,” BAM.

  Grant pulled out his phone. “I don’t know why I’m not recording this conversation.”

  “I’m out of here,” Sam said.

  Camille stepped in front of him. “No, you aren’t. I didn’t say I was marrying someone else, I just said that I haven’t been waiting around for you to grow some balls. If you want to talk, then great. Both of us can talk. You need to listen, unless you want this to be our last conversation.”

  “What happened to this girl?” Porter whispered.

  “Backbone,” I said.

  “It’s hot,” Mike said.

  “Fine, can we talk then?” Sam asked. “Or you can talk?”

  Camille looked at me. “Is it okay if we take a break?”

  “You guys are here for free helping me pack. What am I going to do, fire you?”

  “Wait, we’re here for free?” Mike asked

  I peered through the blinds again. Dax’s girl was gone now, probably left in her own cool car to her own cool job that wasn’t about to get bulldozed. He was still outside, getting something from his car. He turned his head when Sam and Camille hopped into the truck, a surprised look on his face. Then he looked past them, at my friends and me still standing in the window. From a hundred feet away, I could feel his gaze. I jumped back.

  “He saw you,” Mike said.

  “Okay, I’m filming now,” Grant held up his phone. “Run over there and make out with Dax.”

  “No way.”

  “But Sam made a bet with you.”

  “Sam made a bet, I never agreed to it.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” Mike asked.

  I relaxed my hands. I’d somehow balled them up into fists. “What if I go out there and he doesn’t want me anymore?”

  Porter put his arm around me. I was so glad it was him and not Mike. “But what if he does?”

  I shook my head. “It has to be the right moment for me to put everything on the line.”

  “Just be careful.” Mike peeked out the window again. “You wait too long, and that line’s going to disappear.”

  Dax walked back into his chapel. That was pretty much the moment when my heart exploded too.

  Chapter 25

  Sam and Camille texted an hour later and asked if we wanted to meet them at the secret pizza place in the Cosmo. There was no telling if they were back together now or what, but I was happy that Camille was at least temporarily part of the group again. I sent the boys along so I could have a moment alone with the chapel before I locked up.

  I sat on the fifth pew in the back, pushing aside my Dax worries to make room for the ghosts of my childhood. I’d knocked out my front tooth right here. There was still a drop of my blood on the cream-colored cushion.

  I roamed the hallway, rubbing my hand along the dirty shadows left from Grandpa’s collection of Irish landscapes. I flushed the gold urinals nine times, watching the water leak along the edge. I ended in the chapel, on my knees, counting the gray veins in the marble floor.

  “It’s just a building,” I said to the floor. I had to keep saying that, out loud. “It’s just a building.” Just some stone and drywall, beams and marble, some shutters, some roofing material that I don’t even know the name of. Materials. There was no reason to mourn this much for materials.

  But it wasn’t just the materials. It was my childhood, and my adulthood as I’d always planned it to be. I’d meant to go to business school, take this over, meet a man and marry him here, uttering the same promises I’d heard couples say time and time again. Lenore said I should feel liberated, and in a way I did. The future was a Strip-length stretch before me, a pathway that allowed me to be anyone and anything.

  But I also didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t here.

  There was a knock on the front door.

  “I’m in the chapel,” I called.

  I collected my memories and shoved them into my pocket. I told the guys I would take the bus down the street, but they were back to get me, a rare show of gentlemanly conduct.

  But it wasn’t a friend in the chapel doorway. Or a gentleman.

  “Victor?” I scrambled up. “What are you doing here?”

  Victor tapped his boot against the floor. “Is this real marble?”

  “Yes.”

  “Waste of money.” He leaned on the doorway and appraised the space. How many brides had held their breath at that spot before taking that first step down the aisle? “So, you closed.”

  “You too.”

  “Well, we’re closing my chapel, but I’m in business. Big business. Dax might have mentioned that I’m going to be filthy rich now that this deal is going through?”

  I drew circles on the tile with my foot. “You’re already getting my chapel, do you want a medal too?”

  Victor leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “Did you also know Dax hasn’t talked to me in a month now? Not a word. I talk to him, he
grunts a little. That’s all I get.”

  “But you’re rich now, right? So who cares?”

  “Listen, darling, the bank already knew this was happening. They wanted you to fail so they could foreclose, then sell the land to us for double.”

  “What if we had made our payment?”

  “The construction would have started around you, we would have blocked entrances and produced a lot of dust and choked you out until you didn’t have any more customers. It was never a question of if you’d go out of business, just when.”

  “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

  Victor hiked up his dingy chinos. “I saw you were packing. You missed some stuff.”

  “Like what.”

  “I’m going to own this building soon enough, and when I do, I’d like to give you everything inside it. Not the outside, I want the glory of seeing a bulldozer rip it apart, but the business. The pews. The stained-glass windows. You can keep it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I talked to Donna today. Used to date that broad, but she got crazy on me when I tried to pet one of her alpacas.” Victor grimaced. “She wants to open her own chapel. I’m investing some money in it; she’s got some rich old fart who wants to do the same. You can take all this crap over there. Start again. That’s what Vegas is all about, isn’t it?”

  “Why would you do that? That makes no sense. We … I hate you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.” Victor scratched his stomach. “Jim Nolan was the most hardheaded bastard I’ve ever met in my life. The day he died, I did an Irish jig. I wouldn’t care if your whole family got stuck in this chapel when the implosion happened. But my grandson would, and I love my grandson more than anyone.” He shook his head. “I just hope Dax gets over his little crush soon. I thought he’d go for a girl with some curves, you know? At least some hair … Grow it out.”

  “So … the deal is, you get the land. I keep everything inside and my haircut.”

  Victor laughed so hard that it rumbled into a hacking cough. “Shake on it?”

  It was better than nothing. I’d give Donna all the materials. I’d give her the files. I’d give her anything, let her do her own thing, and just ask that she give us all a job. A part-time job, that I might do forever, that I might do for a few months. I could love the business all I wanted, but I was happy to step away from motherhood and become an adoring aunt.