Dancing on Broken Glass

by Ka Hancock

  I smiled at him, but he shook his head. He wasn’t done explaining.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Lucy.”

  “For what?”

  “For showing me how to do this. How to love you. How to be loved by you. Lucy, no one’s ever really taught me how to do this before. My mom never crawled out of herself long enough; my dad tried but he just wasn’t capable; and my brother was doing whatever he had to do to survive.” Mickey shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pity me. Just understand that’s the reality I grew up in. It’s why this—what you’ve given me here—is so foreign to me. It feels solid. I’ve never had solid.”

  I nodded. “Mickey, no matter where you go when you get sick, this—us—is real. I will always be here when you come back.”

  After that, there was no more doubt about our being together. We decided we were ready and very anxious to get married, so we got back on track and made a wedding plan.

  We invited my sisters to dinner. Mickey barbecued steaks and I tossed the salad, and we laughed around my kitchen table for most of the evening. Ron and Mickey had become fast friends who were planning to go fishing the next Thursday. Since Lily and I would be joining them, Ron teased Priscilla, telling her if she could get a date, she could come, too. She didn’t think that was funny, but retorted, “Some of us have to work, you know.”

  “Why don’t you start your own firm and be your own boss like Mic, here? Then you can call the shots,” Ron told her.

  “I just made partner, I think I should hang out for a while. But who knows, maybe someday.” Then she turned to Mickey. “Lucy said you were looking at a club in Bridgeport—did you buy it?”

  “No, we passed on that one. We decided to stick to within an hour radius so we can stay more hands-on. And Jared found an opportunity about two minutes from here.”

  “Where?” Lily asked, surprised.

  “The inn right across from your antiques store.”

  “No way! The Brubaker?”

  “Yeah. We approached the owners last week with a proposal for turning their dining room into a club. We think it will attract the locals more than the restaurant.”

  “I heard they were closing their restaurant. Not enough traffic,” Ron said.

  “Which is great for us. We want to create a place to hang out, have a drink, enjoy some entertainment—some comedy. And we’re buying the space, so that helps them out.”

  Priss nodded. “I’m impressed, Mickey. Brinley doesn’t have anything like that. You’ve got a good eye for business.” With that she stood up and started to clear the table.

  I took the plate from her hand and told her to sit down.

  “What?” she said. “It’s late and I don’t want to leave you with this mess.”

  “It’ll wait. We have something to tell you.” I looked at Mickey, then at my sisters, and I couldn’t keep the dumb grin off my face as I blurted, “We’re getting married.”

  Lily squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, Lucy! When?”

  “Six weeks,” Mickey said.

  Ron laughed. “Welcome to the club, my friend.”

  For a moment I basked in their happiness. But then I looked at Priscilla, who wasn’t even trying. I watched her stand up and carry her plate to the sink. Then she walked out of the room.

  Ron—bless him—chuckled and said, “And welcome to the drama, Mic.”

  Lily leaned over. “Don’t pay any attention to her. Either one of you. She cannot be surprised by this. We were all worried when Mickey had his episode, but you got through it together, and now look. I’m so happy for you.”

  “We’re happy for you,” Ron echoed. “Especially me. I need the support.”

  Lily elbowed him and Mickey laughed. He seemed completely unfazed by Priscilla’s reaction. I leaned over and kissed him, then went in search of my rude sister. I found her on the front porch taking an aspirin. She looked at me with no joy in her face. “You’re really going to do this?”

  “You know I am.”

  She shook her head. “Why? I mean it, Lucy. Three weeks ago he was certifiable and now he’s worth marrying?”

  I sighed. “He was always worth marrying.”

  “See! That attitude is exactly what concerns me.”

  “I understand your concern, Priss, and I appreciate it. But I love him.”

  Priss rubbed her forehead like a frustrated parent. “Love isn’t a panacea, Lucy.”

  As I looked at my sister, I thought of the crash course on bipolar I’d been taking all these weeks. If anyone knew there was no panacea, it was me. It was Mickey. “Why are you giving me a hard time about this? You knew we were engaged.”

  “People get engaged all the time, Lucy. Doesn’t mean they have to get married in six weeks. He just got out of the hospital, what’s the rush?”

  “I love him, that’s the rush. And I’m going to marry him, and it would be nice if you could be happy about it.”

  Priscilla dumped her water over the railing and handed me the glass. “Well, that’s not going to happen.” With that, she dug the keys out of her purse, walked off my porch, and headed to her car.

  Later, I was getting ready for bed when the phone rang. As soon as I heard her voice, I steeled myself. “What do you want, Priss?”

  “Lucy, I didn’t mean to ruin your big night.”

  “You didn’t. You should have stayed, we had a great time.”

  She cleared her throat. “At any rate, if you’re going to do this . . .”

  “Priss, don’t start again. Please . . .”

  “I’m not starting. I’m just saying, if you’re going to do this, then let’s at least do it right. Let me take care of the wedding.”

  “What? No. Priss, we were thinking something small. You and Lil, Ron, Mickey’s dad, lunch.”

  “Oh, please, Lucy. It’s your wedding, not the early-bird special at Chuck-A-Rama.”

  Despite myself I had to laugh. “I’ll talk to Mickey and let you know.”

  “Well, let me know by nine o’clock in the morning. Because that’s when I’ll be there to pick you up.”

  “Priscilla . . .”

  “We’ll start with the dress and see how far we get.”

  “Priss . . .”

  “Let me do this. Please.”

  I sighed. “Okay, but I’m bringing Lily.”

  “I’ve already called her.”

  I had a blast. We all did. We drove into Manhattan, where Priscilla had made us an appointment at Kleinfeld Bridal. I must have tried on twenty dresses. In the end I chose the first one I tried on—a Romona Keveza, which meant nothing to me, but seemed to mean a lot to Priss. To me it was just an empire waist, tip of the shoulder, A-line, silk and taffeta, flat out most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen in my life. Lily cried when I came out of the dressing room. Priscilla said it was nice but tried to talk me into the Amalia Carrara—another designer lost on me. That was a lovely dress as well, but overwhelming, covered in beads and weighing more than I did, not to mention costing more than I was worth dead.

  In the end, of course, I won. Priscilla begged me to wear a veil, and she was being so nice about buying the dress that I almost gave in, but then I just couldn’t do it. I decided on a jeweled headband I could wear with the pearls my dad had given my mother the day they got married. Lily said it was very me and Priscilla relented. Like she had a choice.

  Because we were in New York and there was no fighting it, Priscilla and Lily bought dresses, too. It was a great day, an exhausting day. But it was nothing compared to the next week, when Priss dragged me to caterers, decorators, photographers, a printer, and some place she’d found on the Internet that would set up an ivy-covered arbor in the backyard. She had an appointment in Hartford for us to pick out a wedding cake and seemed a bit crestfallen when I suggested that Matilda Hines right here in Brinley would do just fine. I also mentioned that she made a mean quiche and that we could put her in charge of the catering. Priscilla cackled like I’d said the fun
niest thing she’d ever heard.

  Mickey was working hard on his house—the mess he’d made of the foyer had required industrial cleanup. But it had finally sold, contingent on his refinishing the hardwood floor. He’d already started moving his things into my house. Mickey wanted to gut it and make it ours, but we compromised and agreed to start by breaking down just one wall between the downstairs bedroom and the kitchen so we could have a formal dining room.

  Thankfully where we would live had never really been a question. I asked him if we could stay in Brinley and he said yes, and I told him thank you every day for a year.

  On August 12, two days before my wedding, the forecast said intermittent wind and rain throughout the week, and I thought how silly of Channel 8 not to consult Priscilla on the issue. She wasn’t worried. The tables had arrived the night before and were set up around the perimeter of the yard. Ten rows of chairs were arranged in the middle, each with a bow of white tulle tied around it. The arbor was a thing of beauty, but I could hardly admit that to Priss since I’d given her such a hard time when she’d suggested it.

  In a matter of a few hours, my kitchen filled up with boxes of linen and crystal that Priss had rented. On the big day, huge pink boxes arrived full of open-faced sandwiches, éclairs, macaroons, and chocolate-covered strawberries. Crates of champagne were sitting on my sofa, and when I looked through the living-room window, I saw my cake headed up the walk. I hugged its guardian, Matilda Hines, and truly thought I’d never seen anything lovelier: four square tiers covered with shavings of white chocolate, big orange gerbera daisies adorning the top.

  The ceremony was planned for four. At one thirty, when I got in the tub, the sky was blue. Not so when I got out.

  I was still in my bathrobe when there was a knock on my door. “Come in,” I yelled from my closet, thinking it was Priscilla there to reassure me for the eleventh time that it was not going to rain. But it was Mickey with a man who looked the way Mickey would in about forty years.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, kissing my cheek. “I wanted you to meet my dad before the show started.”

  I don’t know what it was, but seeing Mickey with his father brought tears to my eyes. He’d said his dad would never make the trip, yet here he was, a gentle giant with a shock of white hair. “I’m so happy you came, Mr. Chandler.”

  He seemed a bit timid or maybe just not sure what to do with a woman in her bathrobe, but he stuck out his hand. I bypassed his hand and hugged him, and bless his heart, he hugged me back. “I feel like I already know you, since you’re all my boy here can seem to talk about.”

  I reached up and kissed Mickey’s chin. “Well, he’s a great guy. I’m very lucky.”

  The old man nodded and something like pity passed through his eyes. I hoped Mickey didn’t catch it.

  “How was your flight?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t bad. I lived through it.”

  “Dad hates to fly.”

  “Well, then it means all the more that you’re here.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

  Priscilla barged in just then, dressed like royalty in her silver halter dress and matching five-inch heels; her crown: two curlers on the top of her head. “Lucy! What are you doing? Do you know what time it is—you’re getting married in fifty-one minutes! Mickey, you can’t see the bride, what are you thinking?! Get out of here!”

  “Nice to meet you, Lucy,” Mickey’s dad said. “Sure hope it doesn’t rain on you.”

  “It’s not going to rain! The clouds are moving toward the coast. Everything is fine. Go get dressed.” Priss shooed the men out, but Mickey caught my eye before he shut the door and whispered, “We should have eloped.”

  “I heard that,” Lily said, walking in just as they were walking out. She looked gorgeous in a tea-length, navy-blue silk dress, a corsage of wildflowers pinned to her strap, a daisy clipped in her short hair. My sisters helped me into my dress and fussed with my makeup. Lily clasped the pearls Dad had given Mom on their wedding day around my neck, and Priscilla helped me with the matching teardrop earrings. As I appraised myself in the full-length mirror, Lily put her arm around me. “You look so beautiful, Lu.” She pushed my hair off my shoulder, and I watched tears fill her eyes.

  “You’re going to make me cry, Lily.”

  “I just . . . I just want to tell you how proud I am of you,” she said, hugging me. “You really are amazing, Lucy, and Mickey is so very lucky.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, Lil, but I’m the lucky one.”

  Priscilla finished with the final inspection of my hem. “Just lovely,” she said, stepping up to the mirror with us. But her expression quickly turned mortified when she saw the curlers still in her hair. There was a knock at my door and we all said in unison, “Come in.”

  It was Jan, and when she saw us, her hands flew to her chest. “Look at you! Look at all of you. You are stunning women!” She walked over and held me at arm’s length, then pulled me close. “Oh, I wish your mom could see you. She dreamed about this day.”

  I smiled through the threat of tears.

  “Are you ready?” she said.

  “I’m so ready.”

  “Good. It’s time. Everyone is seated, the musicians are playing, Judge Doyle just arrived. We’re a minute early, but we should start. It looks like it’s going to rain.”

  “It’s not going to rain!” Priscilla boomed.

  “Maybe not. But we moved the cake back in the house, anyway,” Jan whispered.

  I looked at Priscilla glaring at the sky from my window and smiled. Whether it rained or not, I was going to bed tonight Mrs. Michael Chandler, and that was all that mattered.

  Jan kissed my cheek. “We’ll see you downstairs, sweetie.” She walked out with Lily, and it was just Priscilla and me, and Priss looked like she would cry.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “You know I love you, Lu.”

  “I think you’ve proven that this week.”

  She walked over and took my hands. “That’s true, I have. . . . But, Lucy, it’s not too late to not do this.”

  I pulled her into a big hug. “Yes, it is, Priscilla. I love him way too much. Now get out of here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I was born sure.”

  She sighed as she fingered Mom’s pearls, then she kissed my cheek. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  I was alone and about to get married. I picked up the picture of my parents that had sat on my nightstand since I was a little girl and walked to the window. I could see Mickey and Ron standing by the arbor, laughing. My dearest friends were all dressed up and seated, some with umbrellas at the ready. My sisters were huddled together in back, waiting for this to happen. I would remember this moment forever, gazing out on the day my life changed. I looked down at the picture in my hand. The only thing missing was my parents. But I could feel them here with me. I could feel their blessing. I ran my thumb across their faces, then walked down the stairs.

  Harrison Bates, my stand-in father for all these years, was waiting by the door. When he saw me, tears sprang to his eyes. “You look very handsome, Harry. Thank you for being my dad today.”

  “It’s an honor, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Mickey’s a very lucky man.”

  When I heard the quartet begin Pachelbel’s Canon in D, I shivered. “This is it.”

  The backyard looked like a fairy tale. Priscilla had absolutely outdone herself, and there was even a double rainbow in the sky above the arbor that was framing Mickey. He looked wonderful standing there next to Ron, solid and elegant and nervous in his gray tux.

  When I’d reached Mickey’s side, Judge Doyle smiled and welcomed everyone, then cleared his throat and recited a poem. He’d been speaking only a moment when I felt a raindrop hit the tip of my nose, and it almost made me laugh as I wiped it away. Then I felt another. And another. Mickey, who seemed to be leaning forward, hanging on every word, squeezed my hand. As we stood there listening to the judge, who seem
ed oblivious, the sky opened up, and I heard a shrill “Lucy!”

  Priscilla was holding a limp napkin over her head, and next to her, Lily was trying not to laugh. Several of our guests were huddled under our covered patio. I shook my head. My kitchen was full of food and boxes, my living room was cluttered with gifts and wedding paraphernalia. I shrugged at Priscilla, who looked utterly flabbergasted that we were letting it rain. I turned to Mickey. The way this was going to go, and be remembered, was decided in a split second when Mickey looked up at the sky and laughed out loud. He asked the judge, “Is a wedding performed in the rain legally binding?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Mickey took off the jacket of his tux and draped it over my shoulders. “Well then, let’s get on with it.”

  As Judge Doyle wiped water off his face, I heard my sister groan over some quiet laughter behind me. Lightning split the sky and the judge quickly wrapped up his poem and turned to ask Mickey that life-changing question: Do you take this woman . . . Thunder obliterated some of the important words, but Mickey nodded anyway. “I do. I do.”

  The judge then turned to me. “Lucy, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and honor, to cherish and respect, in sickness and health, in good times and bad, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?”

  I looked at Mickey, my eyes filling with happy tears. “I absolutely do.”

  We slid our rings onto each other’s wet fingers, and the judge invited Mickey to kiss his wife. Mickey lifted my face to his and kissed me in the middle of a rainstorm, and every drop felt like a blessing. Nothing mattered but him. Not the ruined backyard, not our wet finery, not all our friends running for cover, not even Priscilla’s fury with the weather gods. Just him. I wrapped my arms around Mickey’s neck and his coat slid off my shoulders and fell to the ground. The rain poured down on us like we were standing in a shower, and all we could do was laugh and laugh. He scooped me up in his arms, spun me around, and someone snapped a picture that made the front page of the Brinley Gazette. (They got a picture of Priss, too, soaked to the bone, which she threatened to sue the paper for printing.) After that everyone crowded into the house and spent the rest of the afternoon eating the delicacies Priss had ordered. They ate standing up and laughed and stayed for hours.