Bess was wearing a T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts, and looked about twelve years old. “I didn’t ask for any help,” she said. “They mentioned giving me a shower back home, but they didn’t press the idea so that was good.”
Marta, long interested in the Culpepper family dynamic, strongly suspected that Bess’s family might be intimidated by Bess’s party-giving expertise and relieved they hadn’t had to attempt to meet her high standards.
“Why?” Allison asked. “Didn’t you want to celebrate with the people from Green Lakes who’ve known you since you were little?”
“I didn’t really have the time,” Bess said dismissively. “It’s a three-hour journey each way. Besides, it’s not like Nathan and I need anything. Everyone would have been wasting their money buying me stuff I already have.”
“But your colleagues threw you a shower, didn’t they?” Marta said. In an oversized shirt and baggy Bermuda shorts she was definitely The Frumpy Friend. It didn’t bother her. Much.
Bess laughed. “I could hardly say no to my colleagues! Anyway, it wasn’t a traditional shower. It was a cocktail reception at the Top of the East in the Westin.” Bess paused. “Though my mother and sisters were there. One of my colleagues invited them. It was a total surprise.”
So, Marta thought, Bess’s family had made the effort to travel three hours south to Portland and three hours back north to Green Lakes.
“How did they get along with your crowd?” Marta asked. She knew it might prove to be a loaded question.
Bess shrugged. “All right. My sisters wondered why there were no traditional party games, like the one where everyone writes some bit of wisdom—real or ironic or humorous—and the papers get all mixed up in a bowl and the bride has to guess who wrote what. And they were a bit wary of the food. If it isn’t a casserole heavy on the processed cheese and canned onion strings they don’t have much interest. Of course, everyone was super nice to my mom and sisters,” she added hastily.
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Allison asked, hugging her knees to her chest.
Bess shrugged. “Just saying. You know how my family is.”
“How, exactly, are they?” Marta asked. For Bess, of all people, to be critical of her own flesh and blood had always seemed very odd. Okay, Bess was ten years older than Mae and eleven years older than Ann, an age gap that had made it difficult for Bess to be close to them, or even to know them well; the younger girls were only nine and eight, respectively, when Bess had gone off to college. But surely Bess knew that her parents were thoroughly good and respectable people?
Bess’s face flushed. “Well, you know. They’re different from me. I’m different from them.”
“They seemed very nice the one time I met them,” Allison said. “At our graduation. They were all so excited for you.”
“Oh, they are very nice,” Bess said quickly. “They’re probably some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.”
“So?” Marta pressed. “What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem.” Bess stretched out her legs and buried her heels in the sand. “Except that my mom insisted on making my bag for the wedding.”
Marta laughed. “My mom can’t sew on a button. My father handles any task that requires manual dexterity.”
“Why so grim, Bess?” Allison asked.
Bess sighed. “My mom made my sisters’ wedding dresses. And Mae’s headpiece. They were all pretty awful. Well-made, but awful. My sisters don’t really have an interest in style. Actually, Mae does but what she thinks is style, well, isn’t.”
“But surely your mother will make something stylish for you,” Allison said.
“I’m not so sure she’ll pay any attention to the materials and sketches I’ve sent her as guidance.”
“But why wouldn’t she pay attention?” Allison pressed.
“Bess doesn’t give her mother credit for seeing her as an individual,” Marta said.
“Oh, it’s not that!” Bess cried. “It’s just—never mind.”
“So, your father’s not walking you down the aisle?” Marta was aware she was still being provocative and didn’t much care.
Bess looked downright horrified. “I think it’s a bit late for that! Besides, there isn’t going to be an aisle. The ceremony is on the beach, remember?”
“I was only kidding, Bess,” Marta assured her.
“Anyway, no one’s going to notice your bag,” Allison said consolingly. “You don’t even have to carry it around the whole time. As long as your mom knows you’ve got it somewhere with you she’ll be happy. Remember, a wedding ceremony and the reception are largely about the families and friends, not the bride and groom.”
“At my wedding my mother insisted on there being a cheeseball at the cocktail hour,” Marta added. “Why? Because she had wanted a cheeseball at her own cocktail hour and her mother had nixed the idea.”
“It was pretty tasty,” Bess pointed out.
“Nevertheless.”
“My parents were so happy on my wedding day,” Allison said quietly. “I miss them so much, though I’m glad they didn’t live to see me divorced. It would have broken their hearts. They always wanted the best for me. Well, of course they did; any good parent would. But somehow, I felt they were extra grateful for having me in their lives. I guess I’m a poster child for the beauty of adoption.”
Marta reached out and gently squeezed Allison’s hand. The hand was bony. Poor Allison, Marta thought. This all must be so terribly hard for her.
“But if they had lived they would have been here to help you in your time of need.” Bess grimaced. “Sorry. Like you wanted that pointed out.”
Allison sighed. “There you go again, apologizing. Look, there’s no way around the fact that my life is pretty unhappy right now. It’s just the way it is. Why pretend otherwise? I don’t.”
“Maybe pretending that everything is rosy isn’t the right thing to do,” Marta said. “But maybe you should try not to focus entirely on what’s gone wrong.” Marta winced. “How obnoxiously know-it-all was that?”
“But it’s still good advice.” Allison smiled. “And I thank you for it, really. I pay good money for similar counsel.”
Marta stuck a finger in the sand. If only she could practice what she preached. But being positive and counting one’s blessings was far easier said than done. It was so easy to slide into a pit of self-pity and from there, into an even deeper pit of despair, and that most often led to a crushing feeling of self-loathing.
Whoa. Marta straightened her shoulders. Things were not that bad. She was pregnant, that was all.
“I knew there was something I wanted to tell you,” Bess said suddenly. “I saw on Facebook the other day that our old roommate Honor passed away. I asked around a bit and learned that she’d committed suicide. I can’t say I’m surprised, but it was still so sad to hear.”
Sheesh, Marta thought. Could this conversation get any jollier?
“I used to get annoyed with her, like when she wouldn’t come out of her room for days except to use the bathroom, no matter how often I knocked and asked if she was okay.” Allison shook her head. “I was trying to be helpful, but I guess I just didn’t understand depression and how it paralyzes a person.”
“Did anyone ever understand her, I wonder?” Bess mused. “Her parents, a therapist, a friend, a lover? In her entire life, as short as it was, I wonder if she ever was able to really connect with another person, or if the depression always stood in the way.”
“Mental illness is so dreadfully isolating,” Allison said quietly. “And it can so badly affect the people around the sick person. Well, I suppose that all illness is isolating to the sick person and a drain on others.”
Marta nodded. “One of Sam’s classmates was briefly hospitalized with anorexia. I can’t help but wonder how her parents are going to handle her leaving for college next year. I know the girl applied to several schools out of state—she’s a super student—and I also know she’s been healthy
for some time. But it’s going to be tough to let her go, knowing that her illness could be triggered again and possibly not noticed soon enough to be of help.”
“We were so young when we started college,” Allison said, musingly, “so inexperienced. Somehow, we were supposed to know how to regulate our daily lives all on our own in a brand-new environment, surrounded by brand-new people and brand-new routines.” Allison paused. “No wonder so many kids have breakdowns their freshman year, gain fifteen pounds, drink to excess, fail courses they should have been able to ace.”
“But we made it through,” Bess pointed out.
“And,” Allison noted, “we’ve managed to stay friends. That might even be more remarkable.”
Marta nodded. “True. In spite of the different paths our lives have taken. Sometimes I wonder what really keeps us all together. Habit? Laziness?”
“Nostalgia for simpler, more innocent times?” Allison wondered. “We met when we were kids.”
“It’s not habit or laziness or even nostalgia that keeps us together,” Bess said firmly. “It’s love, pure and simple. We’re true friends.”
Marta supposed that was true. Still, she often wondered how comfortable she would feel socializing with Allison’s colleagues in the world of art and commercial photography, or with Chuck and Dean’s L.A. circle that included people in the medical profession as well as those in education. What about with Bess’s eclectic circle of wealthy party-givers and successful businesspeople? And would Marta’s old college friends be bored with her circle of suburban moms and dads? Would Allison think them dull and uninformed? Would Chuck and Dean find them hopelessly frumpy and behind the times? Would Bess decide she would rather spend time with her provincial sisters than with Marta’s friends?
Allison’s voice interrupted Marta’s grim reverie. “Remember when we learned that Rosalie, the suitemate we had in sophomore year, was harboring a sick squirrel in her room?”
“Yeah, only after I went to the campus nurse complaining of this horrible itch and was told I had fleas!” Bess shuddered.
“The squirrel was taken away and the suite was fumigated,” Allison pointed out. “No real harm in the end.”
“Does anyone know what became of her?” Marta asked.
“I came across information on LinkedIn,” Bess said. “She’s a veterinarian, no surprise there. She has a clinic in Tucson.”
“There’s someone who knew her passion right from the start,” Allison said. “I remember her telling me how when she was a little girl she would bring home all sorts of injured birds and animals, including once the neighbor’s Great Dane. She thought he looked pale. Can a dog look pale?”
Marta wished she was wearing a big, floppy hat and large sunglasses like Allison was wearing. She was pretty sure there was a pained expression on her face. Her passion had been her husband and her kids. Hadn’t it? Was it still? Was anything?
“I’m starved,” Bess announced. “I’ll head back to the house and start lunch.”
Allison rose from her blanket. “I’ll join you,” she said.
“Me too.” Marta got up from her beach chair and began to gather her belongings. At the moment, the idea of being alone with her thoughts didn’t feel like a very smart one.
Chapter 15
Allison had gone back to the beach after lunch, this time with her camera. A few seagulls were standing about on one leg; others sat like Aladdin’s lamps at the water’s edge. She snapped a few shots of the birds. They might be a nuisance at times, but they were beautiful.
As she turned away from the birds and began to stroll, she thought about the sound advice Marta had shared earlier, that she focus on what had gone right in her life rather than on what had gone wrong. And what had undeniably gone right was her work and her friendships, and together they might very well be enough to see her through the remaining years of her life. Why shouldn’t they be? Both brought purpose, challenge, and comfort to one’s life.
Allison noted a couple walking slowly toward her over the firmer sand near the water’s edge. They were arm in arm, wore matching sun hats, and those large wraparound sunglasses that helped to protect against the sneaky rays of the sun. The woman had a cane in her left hand. The man’s shoulders were significantly bent, forcing his head to hang forward at what must be an uncomfortable angle. Had he gotten used to the pain? Allison had once been told that a person could get used to anything. She didn’t agree. There were some things a person simply could not learn to live with.
She wondered how long the couple had been together. Maybe they had come together in their youth, or maybe they had only come together as middle-aged adults. For that matter, maybe the man and woman were brother and sister. Whatever the case, they strongly illustrated the value of companionship. Allison had never known loneliness until it had finally become clear to her that Chris was not coming back, that her marriage was indeed over.
It was so hard to accept the fact that she and Chris wouldn’t grow old together. It was something Allison had taken for granted, that one day they would walk arm and arm along a quiet shoreline, reminiscing about the early days of their relationship, proud of having weathered so many storms and come through with their marriage intact and perhaps stronger than ever before.
But that was not to be. Two anniversaries had come and gone since Chris had moved out. That first anniversary had been torture. Allison had purposefully avoided looking at her phone or her e-mail all that day. When she did finally check her personal messages a little after midnight, she found only a call from Bess. Bess meant well. She did.
The second anniversary, only a month before Allison had gotten on the plane for Boston, had gone unnoticed. No word from Chris. No well-intended messages from her friends. Nothing.
Time healed. It brought oblivion. It wore down the acuteness of both pain and pleasure.
“Allison!”
There was no mistaking that ebullient voice. Allison felt annoyed. To be fair the beach did not belong to her alone and Bess, who was paying for the house and everything that went with it, had every right to enjoy the sun and the sand whenever she pleased. This Kennebunkport gathering was about Bess and her long-awaited wedding, not about her friend’s impending divorce.
“How are you?” Bess asked when she joined Allison, with that look of intense, caring scrutiny that could be so annoying.
“Fine,” Allison said brightly. Would it make Bess feel better if she collapsed in sobs and admitted that she had never been so miserable in her entire life? “The light is perfect. I’ve been getting some great shots.”
“I saw you alone down here and I thought—”
“Look at that cloud formation.” Allison lifted her camera to her eye. When she had fired off several shots she turned back to her friend. “So, have you had any additional ideas about the wedding day photos?” she asked.
Bess’s expression brightened. “I have!” She went on enthusiastically to share her ideas, most of them quite good if also ideas Allison had already planned to execute.
When Bess had run out of steam her expression instantly sobered. “You do really like Nathan, don’t you?” she asked.
“I do,” Allison said. “He seems kind and intelligent. But it doesn’t matter what any of us think.”
“Yes, it does!” Bess cried. “It truly does. If even one of you thought I was making a mistake I would—Well, I would have to give the whole thing more thought.”
“The whole thing?” Allison said, more sharply than she had intended. “Nathan is a person, Bess. If you love him and he loves you, that’s all that matters. Sure, listen to opinions from people who really know you, but in the end this is your decision to make, not ours.”
Bess sighed. “I know. It’s just that I can’t believe my luck after all those years of dating the wrong men. I keep thinking that something bad is going to happen to spoil the wedding. I don’t know what I’d do, I really don’t!”
“Nothing bad will happen to ruin your wedding,” Alli
son said with what she hoped was a reassuring tone. She had never seen Bess so agitated. “Not if you concentrate on what really matters, meaning every single word of your wedding vows.”
“You’re right,” Bess admitted after a moment. “And I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you and here I am complaining when I have nothing to complain about!”
“No worries.” Allison forced a bright smile. “I’d say you have a case of pre-wedding jitters. Perfectly normal. Now, come on. Let’s head back to the house.”
“Is that Chuck I see on the porch? And is he pouring cocktails?” Bess waved wildly and Chuck, after putting the cocktail shaker he was holding onto the table, waved back. “I’m so happy for them, aren’t you?” Bess said. “A perfect little family of three.”
Allison flinched. A perfect little family of three. How different things had turned out for Chuck and Dean than they had for herself and Chris.
Bess seemed not to have realized her comment had been tactless and really, why should she have held her tongue? Just because Allison had no children didn’t mean she should be protected from the presence of other people’s familial happiness. She didn’t want to be one of those people around whom others felt it necessary to tiptoe so as not to remind her of what she had suffered. If she didn’t learn to look her situation in the eye and face it down she would be lost.
But it was all so very hard.
“Yes,” she said, with a genuine effort at sounding pleased. “I’m happy for Chuck and Dean. I truly am.”
Chapter 16
I’ve attached a few pix of the balloons in action. I think you’ll see how charming they are in situ. Give me a call and we’ll get an order placed right away!
Bess frowned at the screen. A third-rate party supply company located in Biddeford was always trying to get her business in spite of the fact she had told the sales rep in no uncertain terms that their products did not meet the needs and desires of her clients. Period. Ten-foot-tall blow-ups of a bride and groom, over-long arms waving wildly? Nope. She dashed off a firm but polite rejection and scanned the rest of the e-mails that had come in that day.
A Wedding on the Beach Page 8