Love-Lines

by Sheri Langer

  “What was your wife’s name?” Fordham asked.

  “Paige.”

  FORDHAM PULLED BACK the curtain of the window in the bridal room. It was still pouring. Aunt Fanny used to say rain on the wedding day meant the bride was going to be fat. Dylan was a beanpole, so that myth likely wouldn’t hold water. But given that Dylan was pregnant, Fordham could grant Fanny a slight victory. It was a silly superstition, anyway, like all of Fanny’s sayings. The previous night, when Fordham had been too tipsy and overwhelmed to think about their argument, Aaron had kissed her on the steps of the restaurant. Aunt Fanny always claimed that a kiss on the stairs was a sign of a misstep in the relationship and predicted a life of discord. It was all silliness. And this day was about Dylan and Evie, not about her. Her news would have to wait for the right time. If there ever was a right time.

  “So, is it still raining?” Evie asked, feverishly wrapping the guest favors Dylan had forgotten about. Nearly two hundred scented candles had to be wrapped in festive paper and placed into little gift bags before the guests arrived. She had gotten through ten of them.

  “Yeah, it’s still raining,” Fordham said, coming over to help her.

  “Good. Maybe people will come late.” Evie sounded hopeful. “You know, we’re never going to get these done in time. And Dylan would have just left them sitting on the floor if Marv hadn’t seen them when he was packing up the car.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get them done,” Fordham said.

  They had time. Dylan and Bob were busy taking solo and couple pictures. The photographer was a friend of Bob’s and wanted to try different kinds of poses and techniques to use on his web page. He planned to shoot the bridal party next. Evie and Marv had already taken a bulk of their pictures.

  “Where’s Marv?” Fordham asked.

  “He went to pick up his grandmother. I swear, Fordham, the woman is so old that Marv’s father said it was more fiscally prudent to rent her food than buy it.” Fordham assured herself this wasn’t the time to bring up her ironic news about David literally being Prince Charming. Evie seemed to have enough on her mind.

  “Can you believe it, Fordham? Can you believe Dylan is getting married and having a baby of her own? It feels like yesterday that I grounded her for dyeing her hair blue and getting a henna tattoo around her belly button.”

  “And don’t forget about the nipple piercing. I know I won’t,” Fordham added.

  “I try to forget about that one,” Evie said, continuing to wrap favors. “How will I do this? How can I let my baby go?”

  “You’ll bring brunch to their place on Sundays to remind them of how much they still need you,” Fordham said, confident of her practical answer.

  “Their place? Marv and I finished our basement. That’s their place.” Evie tore open a new package of tissue wrap and examined Fordham’s face. “What’s up with you? Underneath all that bronzer, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it now. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Right? I think we snuffed out ‘right’ ages ago when we shoplifted tampons and Hershey’s kisses. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can’t,” Fordham said, near tears.

  “Why?”

  “Because if I do, it’ll be real—and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  “I’m not ready for this. See what Marv got me?” Evie heaved a sigh and pulled a copy of Flowers from the Heart: The New Grandmother from an enormous bag that held a seemingly endless supply of hair spray, stockings, safety pins, Advil, and handheld fans. “So I don’t understand. What will be real? Your book?”

  “Sort of,” Fordham said.

  As much as she feared her news would upstage Dylan, it was now or never. She reminded herself that Evie had a big heart with plenty of room to spare. Maybe this news would serve as a decent diversion from the wedding frenzy.

  She finally let it out as if she had been holding her breath to get rid of hiccups. “I know who he is.”

  “He who?” Evie asked, grabbing a stack of gift bags.

  “The guy who wrote the submission.”

  “Prince Charming?” Evie dropped the gift bags. “You tracked him down?”

  “No, that’s the crazy thing. He found me.”

  “How? Who is he?” Evie asked, sitting down on the overstated floral loveseat.

  Fordham sat down next to her and inhaled deeply. “Whitty’s principal.”

  “What?” Evie was suddenly pale and began fanning herself with her hand. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “The one who drove you home after your car was hit?”

  “Yup,” Fordham said, getting up to check the weather again. The sky was clearing, giving Dylan a fighting chance to lose her baby weight with relative ease.

  “You slept in his bed.”

  “And I drank his coffee, which was delicious, by the way.”

  “Does he know you’re the editor?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “He knows I’m in publishing, but we never got into details.”

  “Does anyone else know?” Evie asked.

  “No. Not even my mother. Especially not my mother.”

  “What about Aaron?” Evie asked, more relaxed now that the favors were nearly half-done.

  “Nothing about Aaron. Nothing yet, anyway. He’ll be here soon.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Finish the book and get on with my life.”

  “But your life just changed,” Evie said, going back to the favors. “Fordham, you need to tell David.”

  “Why? He’s seeing someone. A young someone.”

  “Well, it can’t be that serious. He always seems to be one step behind you.” Evie went over to her bag, got out a pocket fan, and waved it under her chin. “Fordham, you’re at a wedding. You’re supposed to be celebrating honesty and love. Face what’s right in front of you. We all have to,” Evie said, letting the fan relieve her hot flash.

  ONE OF THE BEST THINGS about a wedding was that it was distracting. It was very hard to concentrate on old loves, new loves, deadlines, or even love-lines when a roomful—or in this case, a stadium full—of people were gathered to celebrate love on the grandest scale known to man. It was obvious that Marv’s dental-implant service was thriving, and Fordham was certain there was not one extra the catering hall had offered that he’d refused.

  The place looked regal and magnificent, like the kind of setting one would expect to find inside Cinderella’s Castle in Disney World, except that in Disney World, the castle was merely a shell. Everything in this mansion was decorated elaborately—from lighting to candles, linens to place settings—and each table in the main ballroom was adorned with a beautiful crystal vase perched high on jewel-studded stanchions, holding elaborate arrangements of roses, tulips, orchids, and other flowers Fordham couldn’t name.

  Fordham and Whitty were enjoying the cocktail hour, going to each food station and marveling at how many ways chicken could taste like anything but. Dorie and Abe were drinking mimosas and talking to Pearl, who at ninety-five years old looked remarkably youthful in makeup, a professional hairstyle, manicured nails, and a pale-pink gown. She sipped champagne as if she was royalty. Fordham hoped that someday she would be older than old and treated with the same admiration and respect.

  Whitty was becoming antsy and told Fordham she was going to get a drink. Fordham checked her phone. Aaron was delayed, but he would be there before the ceremony and was thrilled that everything was going just as he’d hoped. She was glad he sounded happy, given how grumpy he’d been the night before. It wouldn’t be much fun to be at a wedding with someone who couldn’t bring some of his own joy. Abe and Dorie left their chat with Pearl and went to talk to Evie’s parents. Fordham went over to Pearl, hoping to cull some of her insight and wisdom.

  “Hello, Pearl. I’m Fordham—Marv and Evie’s friend. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, extending her hand to shake Pearl’
s.

  Pearl wiped the sour cream off her mouth and slapped the soiled napkin into Fordham’s hand. “Who are you?” Pearl asked as if Fordham hadn’t said a word to her.

  “I’m Fordham. A friend,” she said, thinking an abbreviated introduction would be more manageable.

  “I don’t know you,” Pearl said, spearing a piece of her cut-up potato pancake, dipping it into more sour cream, and trying to get the fork into her mouth. She stared at Fordham earnestly. “Where’s Hymie? Is he at the moving pictures with that whore?”

  THE CEREMONY WAS ABOUT to begin, and Fordham was sitting with Whitty, Abe, and Dorie. The entire wedding party walked down the aisle to Bob Dylan’s “Forever Young,” assuring everyone that the couple was good-humored and well aware of the coincidence. Evie and Marv were more jittery than Dylan as they brought her down the aisle to meet Bob, who presented more preppy than Fordham had remembered. They were just under the chuppah—the Jewish wedding canopy—when Aaron arrived and promptly sat in the empty seat next to Fordham.

  She was glad he’d been late. It had given her time to think about Evie’s advice. Maybe she did need to tell David and let the chips fall where they might. At least she’d know definitively where she stood, or where he stood, or where they stood.

  The rabbi chanted several prayers then handed the mics over to Dylan and Bob who had written their own vows. Bob began, “The first time I saw you I was in line in the school cafeteria, waiting for my chicken tenders. You were sitting with friends at a table, eating a bagel, and the way your dimples celebrated each bite was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. I was clearly out of my league—I mean, look at you—but all I knew in that moment was that someday I wanted to make you happy. When I finally got up the courage to ask you out, months later, you smiled and said, ‘What took you so long?’”

  There was warm laughter from the guests. Fordham found it hard not to think about what would have happened if she and Aaron had married when they were kids.

  “I guess what took me so long was that you were already living in my heart and soul, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to like the furniture. It was a leap of faith that got us here today. Well, a leap of faith and a bagel. Dylan, you’re the love of my life. You always have been, you always will be, and I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure the furniture is always comfortable.”

  People were dabbing at their eyes. Somehow, these young kids were getting all this so right. Fordham was ready with another tissue for Dylan’s turn.

  “Girls are silly,” Dylan began. Dressed in a long white A-line with a bejeweled belt under the bust, her hair long and curly, Dylan could have passed for the princess bride, except for the baby bump. It was a sweet understated look that led Fordham to believe that Dylan had really grown up and Evie hadn’t been involved with her dress selection.

  “We stand in front of our mirrors and think of ways to show the world how different we are. We paint our faces, our hair, and our nails, and we pretend that we don’t care what people think. But we do. The mistake we make is that the last thing we show the world is who we are. You never let that happen. Like a shirt out of the laundry, you turn me inside out whenever you look at me and make me feel beautiful from the core of who I am. I usually don’t eat bagels. I’m always too worried about the carbs. But I’m glad I lost my head and bought one the day you found me. How lucky I am to be the one who gets to live in your warm smile, your gentle touch, and your gorgeous soul. I promise to spend each day honoring the special person you are and appreciating the lovely furniture.”

  The rabbi put the glass down, Bob stepped on it, and the couple kissed. Fordham glimpsed over at Dorie. She was teary, and Abe gave her a little squeeze. Very possibly, they would be the next ones down the aisle. Fordham shivered a little bit thinking about it.

  She wondered what Margo would say about Prince Charming. The woman was as straight a shooter as the arrow would permit. Maybe she’d agree with Evie and convince Fordham to have the courage to tell David. One way or the other, she knew she had to do something. Life was changing by leaps and bounds, and Fordham could only hope that one day she wouldn’t be sitting in a chair, sipping champagne, eating potato pancakes, and wondering if Hymie was out somewhere playing with a whore.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Floored of the Rings

  Fordham was happy to be home and thrilled to kick off her heels after spending hours on her feet. And that stupid lace thong Evie had talked her into buying to avoid panty lines went straight into the trash. All day long, she’d had to keep stopping herself from tugging at the persistent wedgie. There was only one place for floss, and that was between her teeth. Another lesson learned the hard way.

  Aaron was at a meeting—he’d left as the bride and groom cut the cake—and Dorie and Whitty had gone back to Abe’s house to watch the Giants game. Fordham poured herself a glass of wine and called Margo. It went straight to voicemail: “Sorry, darling. Eating for three is consuming all my time. Leave your message at the beep and I’ll try not to eat your words...”

  She considered calling Evie, but that would smack of insecurity on top of being egregiously intrusive. She thought about Aaron and how dashing he’d looked all decked out for the wedding. They’d danced, eaten, and had some laughs with a few old friends, but before the clock struck four, he was out of there. It was nothing she hadn’t become accustomed to. He’d told her that once this major deal was finalized, he’d have more time, but he’d never said how he’d use that free time. She wasn’t even sure if he was planning to stay in town.

  She made herself a pot of coffee to sober up. A piece of her fairy tale was dangling like an errant participle. If she wanted to start the next chapter, it was time to find out what was going on in between the lines.

  THE WEATHER WAS CHILLIER than she expected, and the flimsy light-purple sweater over her new not-so-skinny jeans wasn’t doing much to keep her from shivering. She switched on the heat but hesitated to put on music, in case one of her songs with Aaron came on to make her feel guilty. In truth, she wasn’t going to David’s for anything more than clarity. Why she still had the thong from his bedroom shoved in her bag next to the lipstick vibrator she’d forgotten about was not a question she could answer.

  The roads were empty, and the ride seemed shorter than it had the couple of times she’d driven there before. The house was pretty dark. Maybe they were sleeping. It was probably a silly mistake to just show up at his doorstep. It was also possible he was out, or worse, that he would come back and find her parked where the My Cousin Vinny guy had hit her car. He’d think she was a stalker, which was borderline truth at this point.

  She was about to leave when a soft, low light flipped on in what she remembered was David’s office. She got out of the car and sprinted up the driveway toward the house. Before she got too close to the door, she saw David go into his desk drawer and pull out a small box. The room wasn’t bright enough for her to see more than that, but the contents of the box became increasingly apparent when Pam, wearing pajamas, entered the room. Fordham could feel her pulse racing as David opened the box and, though not down on one knee, put a ring on Pam’s finger. The girl was apoplectic with joy. She jumped up and down a few times and threw her arms around David. Then she spent a few seconds focused on her finger. She mouthed something that made him laugh then gave him what Fordham would have considered more of a thanks-for-the-blender kiss. He turned off the light, and the two of them headed to the kitchen, probably ready to make dinner.

  The scene wasn’t exactly what Fordham had been seeking, but it gave her clarity: David was engaged to Pam. She was shocked. Despite Pam’s blathering on about her relationship with David at the store, Fordham hadn’t seen a proposal coming. He seemed too mature to want what Pam had to offer. But Fordham had been wrong about people before. Some things never changed. At least now she could go back to her life without obsessing over every nuance between her and David.

  It’s over. Done. Finished. Say when.
Stick a fork in it.

  FORDHAM’S DECISION to not bother setting her alarm had been a bad move. It was Monday morning, and while both Dorie and Abe had brought Whitty home after her visit, Dorie still wasn’t back. The sad truth was that Fordham had gotten used to Dorie taking care of the morning rush, the after-school running, and the dinner prep. She’d never intended to take her mother for granted, but while she was simultaneously brushing her teeth and making Whitty a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, she realized that was exactly what had happened.

  Between the divorce, the loss of Arnie, her mother’s financial ruin, and her daughter’s growing up, Fordham had received an implicit call to action, and a new order had been established before any of the terms were defined. Maybe it had been more comfortable for the three of them to just fall into roles and never address their wishes and expectations. Up until that point, it had all seemed to work, but now Fordham had to question what she had been seeking and what she really wanted.

  Rifling through her closet in search of the gray jacket with the black piping that Dorie said she had picked up from the cleaners, Fordham became acutely aware of how dependent she had become on her mother. Maybe too dependent. Dorie made her daily life effortless. She had told Fordham that she hated being a burden and that the last thing she’d wanted was to step on Fordham’s toes while she was in the midst of reshaping her life. Instead, she’d become indispensable and did everything to make Fordham’s life easier. It was possible that neither of them had been giving unconditionally, but Fordham decided the most constructive thing she could do was to start weaning herself off of her mother’s help.

  Fordham quickly made Whitty oatmeal in a microwaveable cup and threw in a plastic spoon so she could eat en route to school. It wasn’t exactly the breakfast of champions, but it was better than the Snickers bar she had initially contemplated. Whitty didn’t seem to mind and wanted to talk about the wedding again. She remembered Dylan’s blue hair, and even though it was definitely cool, she liked her better as a brunette.