by Dee Ernst
“Hey. No problem. Do you have a suit?”
“For what?”
“The wedding? This weekend?”
“I have a suit. Besides, I’m not in the wedding party, just showing people to their seats. It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it is. What are you doing today?”
“Alisa needs to talk to some people at Columbia. She starts next week. I’m going with her, even though I don’t have a class.”
“On your way home, go to the mall. Alisa already has a dress, I think. She can help you. That suit you’ve got is old, and you can’t wear khaki if you’re an usher. Get something navy blue. And new shoes.”
He put the juice back in the fridge and drank the whole glass in one gulp. “If Alisa and I get married, I don’t want any of this big wedding crap, okay?”
“Big wedding? You call this a big wedding? You really need to get out more. And what do you mean, if?”
He shrugged. “We don’t think that we need to be married to live our lives together.”
“No, honey, you don’t. But being married means something; don’t let anyone tell you different. And besides, it would make me happy, and isn’t that what you really want out of life?”
He grinned. “Sure, Mom. Okay, I’ll get a new suit.”
I beamed. Smart boy.
Cheryl called. “I have no idea what to get your daughter for this shower.”
“I know. They have an excessive amount of sheets and towels, because Regan refuses to use the same towel more than once without washing it. Phil had been living in his place for a few years before Regan moved in, and since he knew nothing about cooking, he bought every single pot, pan, and appliance on the market. And they both hate the cutesy kind of stuff. But they’re seriously looking at houses, and I imagine they’ll have something by the beginning of next year, so they can use all their new, shiny stuff in the new place.”
“Is it a surprise?”
I made a noise. “Are you kidding? Regan planned the whole thing out with Kim, down to the favors. But they did throw her an impromptu shower at her clinic, and that was a surprise. She got a gift card from Home Depot, and silver serving spoons.”
“The bachelor party?”
“Thursday night, in the city. They’re going to see the Blue Man Group, then dinner at a ‘gentlemen’s club.’ ”
“How civilized.”
“Yes. If you’d like, you can come over to the house. I’m having a mother-of-the-bride party.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m not sure, but MaryJo will be there, so I imagine alcohol will be involved.”
“Anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Should I bring something?”
“Great idea.”
The next morning I picked up MaryJo at Newark Airport. We stopped at the Short Hills Mall and had crab cakes at Legal Seafood, then walked around, window-shopped, and talked before coming home. When I told her that Jake was out of the picture, romance-wise, her jaw dropped open.
“Kate, I am so proud of you. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been. Poor Jake. I bet he never saw it coming.”
I shook my head. “No, I really surprised him. I kind of surprised myself. And I’m sad, but it is such a burden lifted off my shoulders. I’m never going to have to think about him again.”
She gave me a quick hug and kiss. “I bet that’s not at all what you figured this would feel like, no?”
“No. And it feels great.”
Once again, Alisa had saved the day by agreeing to stay with Mom, and when we finally got to the house, I found them downstairs playing gin rummy.
Mom and MaryJo had met several times in the past, and MaryJo being MaryJo, she sat down with them and asked to be dealt in. I went upstairs, made about a hundred phone calls, and was trying to figure out dinner when both Alisa and MaryJo came upstairs, chatting like BFFs.
“We want Chinese takeout for dinner,” MaryJo announced. “And after that, Alisa and I are wheeling your mom to play cards. Want to come? You can bring the dog.”
“Why, thanks, I’d love to.”
“I’ll go get the food,” Alisa offered. “And MaryJo wants me to pick up a bottle of bourbon.”
“No need,” I said, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out an unopened bottle of Wild Turkey. “I know my roomie. I’m prepared.”
Having a roommate like MaryJo in college was a blessing for many reasons, not the least of which was my introduction to drinking hard liquor. She had always been a brown-booze kind of girl, and getting drunk with her those first few months was what had turned me into a wine drinker. I had spent many a night hugging the porcelain god. It took me a while—in fact, until after I’d graduated—but it finally sank in that I just couldn’t handle the stuff. But MaryJo had mastered the art of drinking a shot—her wrist stiff, a smile on her lips, and down it would go in one neat, quick motion.
We spent most of the night doing more talking, and MaryJo, Sam, and Alisa put a big dent in the bottle. The next morning, Sam looked a bit washed out, and Alisa didn’t make it downstairs until after ten. I wasn’t going to Newark, and spent the day trying not to obsess about the bridal shower.
Regan’s shower took place in the American Legion Hall in Whippany, where thirty women and Phil sat around for several hours, eating catered deli food and drinking too much. Regan got lots of towels and sheets, three coffeemakers, a KitchenAid mixer that caused my heart to twist with envy, and several hundred dollars’ worth of gift cards.
I introduced MaryJo to Cheryl. MaryJo gave her a big hug. “I feel like we should be playing catch-up,” she said, “instead of being introduced.” We sat with Alisa, Mom, and Elaine. Elaine was horrified at the shabby carpet and leather folding chairs, as well as the poor quality of the gin. Mom pretended to be going deaf in her left ear, so that every time Elaine said anything, she’d have to repeat it to Mom, very loudly. All the people at the surrounding tables soon knew exactly what kind of mother-in-law Regan was getting. Mom remained deadpan throughout her entire performance. The rest of us were in hysterics. Elaine never caught on.
Thursday night Cheryl came over. Alisa joined us. She had been invited to go out with Regan and her friends, but decided to stay close to home. We broke out the rest of the Wild Turkey. When that bottle was gone, Cheryl found the Sambuca. MaryJo insisted we drink it with a coffee bean, and also suggested we set it on fire. Something about intensifying the flavor. At that point, I was so far gone that I tried to drink my shot before the flames had died down, almost burning out all my nose hairs. Thankfully, God was looking after me, so I did not set fire to my face, which would have made for unfortunate wedding photos. Although it was getting cool on the deck, we went out and smoked a bit of Cheryl’s latest crop. Then things got really fuzzy.
I called Edward before I crawled into bed. He had been invited to the bachelor party, but I had heard Sam come in a few minutes earlier and thought Edward might be home.
“Did I wake you?” I asked.
He chuckled. “No. Just came through the door. You sound like you’ve had a rather interesting night.”
“It’s MaryJo’s fault. You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s an evil person who forced brown liquor down my throat, and now I’m going to die.”
He made a few clucking noises. “Drink lots of water; you’ll be fine.”
“When are you coming?”
“I’ll be there by five. Do you need me to bring anything?”
“No. I’ve done all I can do. It’s in God’s hands now.”
“Kate, it’s only a rehearsal dinner.”
“Edward, any mother of the bride knows you can never put the words ‘only’ and ‘rehearsal dinner’ in the same sentence.”
He laughed again. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The people who cleaned my house agreed to make an extra trip out before the dinner so everything would look perfect
. I did not expect them quite so early. MaryJo, completely unfazed by the prior evening’s activities, had let them in. When I finally dragged my old, sorry butt out into the kitchen, she and Alisa were halfway through their second cup of coffee and were both looking disgustingly chipper.
“I get Alisa,” I growled. “She’s young. But, my God, MaryJo, do you have a deal with the devil?”
“Oh, honey, I was a schoolteacher, remember? Drinking heavily comes along with the job. If I didn’t do something to let off a little steam, I’d have been a tragic statistic long ago. Your mom’s had breakfast, and we took Boone for a walk. I actually met one of your cats this morning. Not very friendly, are they?”
“They’re cats. They don’t do friendly. And if you insist on being so cheerful,” I said, “you may have to sleep somewhere else tonight.” I made myself a cup of coffee and stirred in lots of sugar.
MaryJo beamed. “Don’t be silly. You know you love me.”
“I do. With all my heart. Even when you make me drink brown liquor, which you know I can’t take. Can you do something about all this sunlight?”
“Sorry, baby. No. Do you have anything to do today? Hair, manicure, something like that?”
“Manicure at one, but I’m going to cancel.”
Alisa reached over and picked up my hand, looking critically at my nails. “Why?”
“Because,” I said, taking another gulp of coffee, “my nails hurt too much.”
MaryJo chuckled. “You’ll feel much better by then. I have to tell you, Kate, you have wonderful friends. I had such a fun time last night. And Alisa here is a dream. You are so lucky to be surrounded by such great women.”
“If they’re so great, why did they let me get totally drunk the night before my only daughter’s rehearsal dinner?”
Alisa shook her head sadly. “After you found the tequila bottle, I don’t think anyone or anything could have stopped you.”
“Oh, God. Tequila. Why?” I put my head down on the counter and waited for the rush of caffeine to hit me and make me feel better. “That noise? Is that the wind?”
“They’re vacuuming upstairs. Maybe,” MaryJo suggested gently, “you could drink a second cup. And eat some bacon and eggs. Hot, greasy food has always made me feel better on mornings like these.”
She bustled around the kitchen as I stared off into space, listening to the pounding in my head and wishing I had thought to put floor-to-ceiling, room-darkening drapes on all those damned windows.
“Here,” MaryJo said with a flourish, and set a diner-perfect breakfast in front of me: two eggs over easy, crispy bacon, perfectly buttered toast. I ate everything on the plate in silence, while MaryJo and Alisa went off into the living room. I heard Sam’s voice at some point. I put the plate in the sink and went into the living room to join them.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, way too loudly. “Looks like you had a crazier night than the boys did.”
I gritted my teeth and tried to remain civil to my youngest child. “And did the boys have a fun time?”
“Great,” he gushed. “Edward is way cool and paid for the whole dinner, even though Phil’s best man—what’s his name?—was going to.”
“His name,” I told him as I sank into the chair, “is Mike. They were roommates at Pitt.”
“Yeah, whatever. It was a good time.”
I managed a smile. “That’s nice, Sam. Can you just keep your voice down a little?”
“And you got high with Alisa? All summer long, I was watching the stuff grow, and never pinched a leaf for myself. You could have offered me a taste.”
“Sam,” MaryJo said, “it’s against all the rules of parenthood for a mother to offer her child a joint. Believe me when I tell you that. Last night, your mother was celebrating, and I must say, we all did a few things that, in the bright light of day, were possibly not the best choices. But sometimes it’s acceptable to revert to earlier behavior, especially after Wild Turkey shots. You will never, ever speak of this to your mother again, understood?”
Sam nodded, and he and Alisa went off to do whatever young, bright-eyed people in love do.
MaryJo cleared her throat. “It’s eleven thirty. What do we have to do?”
“I have to go back to bed.”
“I think not.”
There was a knock on the door. Boone looked vaguely interested, and Cheryl let herself in. She looked at me critically, then shook her head.
“Now I know why, in all the years I’ve known you, you never drank anything but wine or the occasional vodka martini,” she said. “But I must say, you’re pretty entertaining when you’re shit-faced.”
“If you’re not part of the solution, Cheryl,” I told her, “I may have to kill you.”
“I am here to help,” Cheryl said. “I know you need it, and as awesome as MaryJo is, she can’t do it all on her own. How many people are here tonight?”
I closed my eyes and tried to do a count in my head. “Six hundred and thirty-two,” I said at last.
Cheryl and MaryJo shared a chuckle. How cozy.
“And why,” MaryJo asked, “did you insist on having it here instead of at a restaurant?”
“Because I didn’t know I’d have the hangover from hell, and thought it would be nice to have the most important people in my daughter’s wedding here at my home. Under normal circumstances, I could be charming and totally in control. Now, I don’t think I can even remember who the caterer is.”
“Well, luckily, I know who it is,” Cheryl said. She looked at MaryJo. “I think she has a mani/pedi this afternoon with Regan and a few of the other girls.”
MaryJo nodded. “I’ll get her there.”
“Have you talked to Rose?” Cheryl asked.
“Not since breakfast,” MaryJo said.
Cheryl nodded and went downstairs. The cleaning people were leaving. They smiled at me and left their little card. MaryJo closed the door behind them and settled back on the couch. “We’ll take care of everything, Kate. You’ll feel so much better this afternoon.”’
Cheryl came back upstairs. “Your mother,” she told me, “wants to come upstairs for the festivities. She insists that if she takes her time and rests every couple of steps, she can make it up.”
I sighed. “Dinner is scheduled for seven. She’d better start by five, five thirty.”
“Oh, stop,” MaryJo said. “If you must, go back and lie down for just a half hour. Then take a long, hot shower. You need to get your act together, honey.”
So I took a nap, and she was right, of course. After a shower, I did feel better, and I drove myself to the nail salon. Regan had booked all the chairs for her wedding party. Even Elaine was there, looking very frosty.
“How are she and Edward getting along?” I asked Regan.
She grinned. “Mom, it’s the best show in town. She’s trying everything to make him angry, and he refuses to even blink.”
“Just so you know, I broke it off with Jake.”
She stared at me. “After all that?”
I shrugged. “I know, right? But it’s all about looking forward, honey. Getting caught in the past will only drag you down. There’s nothing wrong with moving in another direction.”
She kissed me, then tilted her head. “So, where does this leave Edward?”
I grinned. “In a very good place,” I said, and she laughed.
I had my pedicure sitting between Kim, Regan’s best friend and maid of honor, and Foster, her lone bridesmaid. Foster had been Regan’s roommate all through veterinary school, and was very quiet and very intense. She and her partner, Willa, had come down from Syracuse for the wedding. Kim and Foster kept up a running conversation about the Kardashians. I sat back and listened, nodding occasionally. Mostly, I watched Regan.
I remembered the day before my wedding to Adam. He and I had gotten into a fight. We’d moved into our apartment three months earlier, and I had started clerking for a municipal judge. Adam was, at that time, in his second year of residency.
> We had planned a fairly large wedding, almost two hundred people. That is, I had planned it. Adam had very little to do with anything, and barely knew what the menu was. But he had said he’d take care of the limousines, and then had forgotten all about making the call. I was already stressed out, and had started crying when, in the middle of our own rehearsal dinner, we realized there was no way for anyone to get to the church the next morning. He got angry because I was crying. I started yelling at him. He started yelling back. His father had to step between us and literally carried me into the next room, where I screamed and sobbed for what seemed like hours.
Adam made phone calls. By the time my eyes had dried and my mascara was back on, everything had been arranged. The dinner continued. We got married the next day. But I never quite forgave Adam for forgetting the one, single thing I had asked him to do for our wedding.
Regan, on the other hand, seemed happy, relaxed, and completely in control. She wasn’t going to have a meltdown about anything. She had been enjoying every minute of the past few days. Maybe there was something to this whole small-wedding thing after all. But I’d never admit it. Not to her, anyway.
I had my nails done a deep iridescent brown. I hardly ever had my nails manicured, and would normally never have considered anything but pale pink or mauve. But I had brought in a sliver of fabric from my dress, and they matched the color. This was Regan’s idea. Everyone raved about the color of my dress, and how the polish would be so complementary, and since the reaction caused Elaine to wince, I went with it.
When I got home, the flowers had been delivered, and Cheryl and MaryJo had hung streamers and balloons in pale blue and silver. They’d rearranged some furniture, and covered tables with stiff white paper tablecloths. The sliders to the deck were open, and I could see flowers and candles out there as well. Everything looked beautiful.
“Thank you. I forgive you both for getting me drunk last night,” I told them.