I feel my eyes widen. Lucy is changing her order?
The waitress nods. “Do you want the bacon extra crispy?”
“That would be great!” Lucy squeals as if she’s acting normal.
I can’t help it; I start to tear up.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks when the waitress walks away. She can always sense when I’m about to freak out.
“This is our last time here together,” I say and as the words come out of my mouth, the tears begin to roll.
“I’m getting married, I’m not going to die,” she laughs.
“I know, but everything’s changing.”
“Is this about the egg sandwich?” she asks sincerely. “I read that pregnant women need extra protein, if you want I can change my ord….”
“It’s not about that,” I interrupt.
“Well what the hell’s wrong then?” She takes a sip of milk.
I sniffle. “You and Lorenzo will have a family and I’ll still be single and alone.” I wipe away a few tears. As much as I can, I try to push the thought out of my mind, but somehow, it keeps coming back to me. So much for getting my spark back.
Lucy gets up and puts her arms around me. “It’ll all be fine Stella.”
“No it won’t,” I say firmly. “Everyone is getting on with their lives and I’m stuck.”
“Who’s everyone?”
“You. Lorenzo…”
“Ok, me and Lorenzo are a different case. This just happened. If I weren’t pregnant we wouldn’t be getting married so soon. And besides, I’m the one who’s stuck.” She pats her stomach. “When this little one arrives I’ll be a stay at home mommy.”
This is news to me. “What about your teaching job?”
“I’m giving it up. Besides, Lorenzo and I have a new project in the works.”
I look at her, confused. “What?”
“We’re opening a place in Philly. Lorenzo found a small restaurant and signed the lease last week. We’re telling everyone tonight.”
My heart leaps a little. I’m sure they’ll ask me to be the manager. This solves everything.
I can imagine it already. I’ll be featured in Philadelphia magazine as the most stylish manager in the city. For the photo shoot I’ll be wearing a one of a kind Marc Jacobs dress…
“Mario partnered up with us actually. He’s going to manage,” Lucy explains.
“What about me?”
“You hate managing the restaurant.” Lucy looks shocked. “You always say you’re just doing it for your family.”
“But what am I supposed to do? I need a job.” I look down at the table because I know that if I look at her I’ll cry.
“You’ll figure it out,” she says. How is this a logical response? Why does everyone keep saying this to me? Just as I’m about to break down, Lucy continues. “And if you don’t figure it out, you can just live with us and babysit your godchild.”
“You want me as a godmother?”
“Only the best for my baby,” Lucy replies.
I’m moved. “What would I do without you?”
“You’d be a freakin’ mess.” She smiles. “But I’d be a bigger one without you.”
At 5:00 p.m. my mom, Gina, and I gather in the master bedroom to help Lucy get dressed. Our hair is all curled and set with millions of little bobby pins, lacquered with hair spray and gel. (After finding the perfect dress, Lucy decided we needed to get our hair done. Thank God we have connections in this town).
As I unzip the garment bag containing Lucy’s dress Gina and my mom light up. They haven’t seen it yet and if they like it now, I can’t wait to see their reactions when she puts it on.
Helping her into the dress is a three-woman job. Gina holds her veil to make sure it doesn’t tangle in the fabric. My mom holds the dress open low to the ground so Lucy can carefully step into it and I hold her hand, keeping her balanced. I give her a squeeze and she looks up at me full of bliss. She straightens up and smoothes the fabric.
“Belissima,” my mom says and hugs Lucy. “You’re so beautiful, Lucia.”
Lucy beams.
“Girls,” my dad yells from downstairs. “It’s time.”
We look at the clock in the bedroom. “Crap.” I am still in my bra and underwear. I reach into the closet to get my dress and step into it. This light peach number is so hot that I almost wish I had a date. “You guys start going, I’ll be down in a second.”
My mom and Gina help Lucy down the stairs, holding her train as they walk.
I step into my sliver stiletto sandals and take one last look at myself in the mirror. Gina did a fabulous job with the make-up. I look good. Really Good. Like trouble.
I hurry down the stairs just in time to see Lucy hugging her dad. I feel like I’m witnessing a miracle.
Deep down, I knew he’d come around.
I place my arm on my mother’s shoulder. “I’m so happy he came.”
“Me too,” my mom whispers.
We follow Lucy and her father into the driveway as they get into the limo. My mom asks if I want to ride with her and my dad, but I’d rather walk the two blocks to the church.
I get halfway down the block when I see him.
Roberto Lancetti is walking towards me, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and skinny black tie. His hair is ruffled up in a way that looks like he spent too much time on it, and he’s wearing jet black aviators. I just watch him for a minute and I have to admit, he looks good. Really good. Like trouble. Still, I haven’t seen him since that night on the street and I really don’t feel like explaining things.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when he comes closer.
“I was invited to the wedding,” he smiles. “You look beautiful.”
I can feel myself blushing. “Thanks. Did my mom put you up to this?”
He looks a little hurt. “No, Lorenzo invited me.”
“It was just supposed to be family members.”
He winks at me. “I’m practically family, aren’t I?’
I ignore the comment and start walking down the street and he strides along beside me.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks.
I sigh. “Yeah, thanks. Look I sort of just want to forget that night, ok?”
“What night?” he says with a smile.
I can’t help but smile back, though I am totally going to kill Lucy and Lorenzo for inviting him. What’s with my family trying to push us together?
“Are you coming to the dinner too?” I ask.
“Yeah, actually, I’m your ride.”
I look at him for a second to see if he’s joking or not. Unfortunately he’s serious.
We walk the next block in silence.
My brothers are already inside when we arrive. Roberto takes a seat as I hang outside with Lucy.
“Did you like your surprise?” she asks. I swear, if it weren’t her wedding day, I would kill her.
“You shouldn’t have.”
The organist begins to play and my parents process, arm in arm down the aisle. I’m next and as I walk down the marble floors of St. Luke’s I feel as though I’m in a dream.
Is this really happening?
Is my best friend really marrying my twin brother?
I see Lorenzo at the altar, anxiously awaiting his bride.
I take Mario’s arm and bow at the altar, and then walk off to the side and watch as my friend walks down the aisle, unafraid of what the future holds.
The ceremony lasts about an hour, during which I go from crying (when I saw my brother Lorenzo tear up) to laughing (when Fr. Jim cracked a joke about the honeymoon at the beach) and crying again (when they finally say their vows and become husband and wife). I’m thankful that I’m standing on the altar with them.
We follow the bride and groom out of the church, and even though the only people in attendance were family members (and Roberto), there’s a feeling of relaxation in the air. I hand out the small paper cones of rose petals that Gina and I made in the morn
ing, and we all throw the flowers in the air as Lucy and Lorenzo kiss on the church steps.
Everyone claps and Roberto takes my hand in his. I feel a surge of electricity run through me, but I quickly pull away. No use getting excited over him when he’s only here because my family is trying to get us together.
Roberto wasn’t lying. It becomes evident that he really is my chauffer when everyone scurries to their cars without even offering me a ride. I mean, honestly. Fortunately, the ride is not awkward at all. We spend most of the time talking about Rome, and what an amazing city it is.
“I wish I could just pack up and move there,” I say as we enter Atlantic City. Roberto gives me a strange look and I know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s a stupid idea. I should grow up and focus on my life.
By the time we pull up to the Villa it’s dusk and the neon lights shine brightly in front of us. The building’s façade changes from purple to green to gold, and looks more luxurious than ever on this wedding night.
The restaurant is equally as breathtaking.
Now I understand why Chuck would leave us to come work here. It’s decorated with sparse, modern furniture and luscious blue suede couches fill the bar area. Blown glass chandeliers hang every few feet and low votives light the tables.
“Oh my Gawd,” says Gina in her nasal voice.
“DiLucio, party of thirteen,” my father says to the maitre’d.
“Ah yes,” the man replies and instantly I can tell he’s a little ‘light in the loafers’ as my dad would say, so instantly I want him as my friend and fashion consultant. “We have a private room for you, please, follow me.”
My brothers glance at each other. Gina raises her eyebrows and straightens her posture. After all, there could be celebrities lurking around every corner.
“Stella,” I hear Lucy call and I turn around. She is standing in the entrance of the restaurant, holding hands with her new husband. A warm glow fills me and all I can think to do is clap my hands. Other diners take the cue and start clapping as well, and Lucy’s face lights up. Lorenzo kisses her and the entire restaurant breaks into applause. Some people even clink their knives on their glasses, and both the bride and groom smile so widely.
They walk towards us and most patrons continue to clap as we file into our private dining room.
The room is decorated the same as the restaurant, except a long table fills most of the room. The flowers from Dots and Bows look like they were custom tailored to this room. Gerber daisies and soft colored roses fill the bulk of each vase, and to match the décor, Dotty, the owner, tied huge navy blue organza ribbons and tucked them into each vase. Even Gina raises her eyebrows.
Votive candles run down the center of the table, and the room is so dimly lit that Lucy’s white dress sticks out like a shining star. She’s glowing.
To the left of the table, the cake is on display, and when I see it I can hardly believe that Chucker made such a spectacular work of art. Its three tiers are each covered with white fondant and filled different color roses, white and pink peonies and huge gardenias. The topper is two L’s intertwined to form a heart shape. I need to see the cake up close.
The white fondant is decorated in an intricate beaded pattern all around the edges of each layer and the flowers spill out. For a moment, I think that he’s cheated and used real flowers, but I touch one and see that it is actually made of sugar. Each one is crafted by hand and must have taken him hours. From up close, I can see the cake topper is made of pure sugar, and stretched to resemble transparent glass. Suddenly I feel bad for getting mad a Chuck for leaving us. He had no room to grow at Lorenzo’s. Here he can really be the artist that he is.
Roberto comes up behind me. “The cake is amazing, huh?”
I turn around and my heel wobbles. Before I can stop myself, I fall in his arms, which he wraps around me. It feels so comfortable there, that for a minute, I can almost picture us together. I pull away and adjust myself, but can feel Roberto staring at me. “Sorry,” I mumble.
A waiter approaches us with a tray of champagne glasses. Roberto takes one for me and one for himself. He hands me the glass and we wait for the toast. Once everyone receives a glass, Lorenzo taps on his glass and raises it in the air. “Lucy and I want to thank everyone for all your love and support in these past couple weeks. We appreciate and love all of you, and are so happy that you’re here to share this wonderful day with us.”
My brother has always been a man of few words, so his speech hits me hard. I glance at my mother who is dabbing the corners of her eyes, and I look away before I completely lose it.
We all clink glasses and take sips of the champagne. The sweetness tastes so good, and I realize that I haven’t eaten a thing since Cindy’s pancakes this morning.
Mario raises his glass. “As the best man, I need to make a toast.”
We all look at him.
“I never imagined that my little brother would get married before me…”
“Neither did I,” Pietro calls out and we all chuckle.
“… But I can’t imagine a person more perfect for him than Lucy. Luce, you were already like a sister to all of us, and now you really are. Welcome to the family.”
We all clink glasses again and I notice I’ve already drunk most of my champagne.
I need to slow down a little.
A waiter comes around with a tray of beef tartar on fried wontons. I take one from the tray, and a cocktail napkin from the waiter’s hand. The tartar is both sweet and savory at the same time and I think they’ve added some soy sauce, which is typical to modern restaurants. It seems like everyone is always adding an Asian-inspired theme to everything nowadays.
I glance at my parents and can tell right away they don’t like it. They’re more traditional and would probably prefer clams casino and baby lamb chops. It’s a wedding after all.
The next tray contains oysters on the half-shell. They’ve simply been shucked and topped with a spicy cocktail sauce. I’m not the biggest fan of oysters, but these are pleasant, not too briny or salty. I wash it down with the rest of my champagne and before I am even able to look around, a waiter pours more into my glass.
“Thanks,” I say as he walks away. “Great service here.”
Roberto looks at me and nods. Honestly, since I mentioned moving to Rome he’s barely said two words to me. I know it was a stupid idea, but I was just daydreaming.
“Kobe beef,” another waiter says holding a tray for me to see. “Seared rare.”
My mom approaches us. “These fancy restaurants don’t seem to cook anything,” she says. As talented as my mother is, she’s still old school when it comes to temperature and is a strong believer that all meat and fish should be cooked through. “Poor Lucy can’t eat any of this.”
I realize she’s right and I look around to see Lucy talking to her father. She’s sipping on club soda. I’m sure she hasn’t eaten anything.
I grab a menu card off the table. Who planned this anyway? Did Lorenzo and Lucy forget to mention that she’s pregnant?
Ok, honestly, it all sounds amazing but I’m not sure that Lucy can eat any of it. I walk towards her and wait for her to notice me. Her father turns to talk to my dad, and she looks at me. “Stell, this day has been perfect,” she says and throws her arms around me. “None of it would have been possible without you!”
“I’m so happy for you,” I reply and smile. “But, Luce, what are you going to eat?” I hold the menu card up for her to see.
“Oh yeah, I know there’s not much I can eat. We figured it’s okay, since I’ve been so nauseous.”
“You need to eat something!” God, I sound more like my mother each day. But I can’t help it. I envision her collapsing by 9:00, and having to be rushed to the hospital.
“I know,” she says. “I’ll eat bread.”
“You’re not having bread and water on your wedding day,” I say sternly. “That’s prison food!”
She laughs. “I’ll be having cake too. Did yo
u see it?” She beams.
“Yeah, it is pretty much the most gorgeous cake I’ve ever seen.” I lean in a bit closer and whisper, “I think Gina is jealous.”
Lucy giggles. “It’s filled with vanilla cake and nutella.”
“Sounds like a dream,” I say. “I’ll have to save room for dessert.” I take a sip of champagne and notice I’ve already finished my second glass. This stuff goes down like water. It’s so much better than André.
When I think of Lucy only one thing comes to mind. Macaroni and cheese. Since I’ve known her, I don’t think she’s gone a week without Kraft macaroni and cheese. Even when my mom tried to make her a gourmet version, Lucy preferred the boxed stuff with the powdered cheese. At one point in our friendship, I caught her buying two boxes at once, using the pasta from one, and the cheese from both to make her meal.
Even now that almost everything makes her want to vomit, she still falls back on her mac and cheese. It’s perfect, Chuck can just slip out and buy her a box, then cook it up and serve it while we’re eating. I can already envision her face lighting up. “I’ll be right back.” I stroll towards the kitchen.
“Hello,” I say pushing open the winging door to the kitchen. The executive chef sees me and in a panic, looks around for a waiter.
“Someone will be right out to serve you,” he says.
I walk into the kitchen and see the organized line of chefs, all men, concentrating on the tickets in front of each of their stations.
“I actually wanted to speak to you,” I say approaching the chef. He looks a little confused. “I’m with the DiLucio party. We have a small problem with the menu.”
The chef grabs a paper menu from the line and looks over it. “I went through this with Lorenzo yesterday afternoon. He confirmed everything.” He looks away from me and back at his chefs, who are all pretending not to listen.
“Oh I know, and it really looks delicious. It’s just that the bride is, well, pregnant, and can’t eat anything on this menu.”
“All right, we’ll make her something else.” He clicks his pen, flips the menu over and begins writing ideas down. “Does she like chicken?”
The Queen of Minor Disasters Page 18