by Karyn Bosnak
After watching the blood drain from Mom’s face, Daisy and I burst into laughter. We both then look at Mom and in unison, say, “Kidding!”
“Oh, thank heavens!” she exclaims as the color in her face comes back. She then leans into me. “If you are a lesbian though, Delilah, please know that I’ll be fine with it.” I shake my head and look back at Daisy.
“C’mon,” she says to the two of us, “let’s get ready . . . I’m getting married!”
Daisy ends up being the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, not that I doubted she’d be anything but. She doesn’t pull her hair back or put it up in a bun, as so many brides do, but leaves it wild and free, which makes her look more gorgeous than ever. Throughout her entire engagement, she’s had a glow to her that I’ve never seen. Love agrees with her. Standing once again on a small platform in my scarlet dress, I watch my grandpa walk her down the aisle with tears in his eyes. I then think back to the last time I saw him cry, which was when Daisy and I were kids, when he came to school to kidnap us.
The only thing that prevents me from bawling and brings a smile to my lips is the sight of my mother weeping in her chair, wearing the largest rhinestone-encrusted crucifix brooch I’ve ever seen. She makes me laugh, my mom. Before the ceremony, Daisy realized that she spent all morning hiding rosaries everywhere and yelled at her. She found one in her bouquet, another sewn into the bottom hem of her dress, and more worked into the floral centerpieces on the tables. God knows where else my mother hid them. (Actually, he probably does.) Anyway, when someone begins to sing the “Ave Maria” at the end of the ceremony, she breaks into a full sob and sings along, at which point both Daisy and I burst into laughter. Equally pathetic, Edward’s mother also loses it when Edward does the whole “stepping-on-the-glass-thing,” as Daisy puts it. (Thank God—at least they’re both wacky.) When the judge who’s presiding over the ceremony finally announces Mr. and Mrs. Edward Barnett for the first time, an equal mix of “Amens” and “Mazel tovs” ring through the air, and then everyone begins to party.
The reception goes off without a hitch. The drinks flow freely, the food goes down smoothly, and the Starlight Roof couldn’t look more festive with the flowers blooming, candles flickering and ceiling twinkling. Despite all this joy, however, I still find myself a bit melancholy. After Daisy and Edward cut the cake, I head over to a window and look out at the city. It’s finally stopped raining.
When I think of last time I wore this red dress, with Colin in the fitting room at Saks, I get sad. Remembering the way his strong hands felt as he zipped and laced me up, remembering the way he gave me goose bumps, brings a tear to my eye. It also gets me thinking about my twenty guys again. Even though I’ve just about come to terms with it and realize that it’s no reason to settle down with someone you don’t love, I still believe that most of them were mistakes.
And then I hear a voice.
“I’ve never seen anything so lovely.”
When I turn around, I see my grandpa. Even though he’s too tan and his hair is too dark, he’s still handsome, nonetheless. As he walks up to me, he looks out the window as well.
“I know, it’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”
“I was talking about you,” he says, putting his arm around me. “But it is too, yes.”
“Thanks,” I say, hugging him.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, squeezing me tight. “You know that?”
“Yes, I do. I just have a lot of regrets, that’s all. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
“Ah . . . there’s no such thing! There are the choices that we make and the consequences, that’s all.”
“I know, but I keep thinking that maybe if I did things differently, then the consequences wouldn’t have been the same.”
“Of course they wouldn’t be, but then neither would you. Everything you do in life, whether it’s good or bad, makes you who you are. Don’t maybe your decisions to death because you can’t change them.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“You’re right,” he says, patting my shoulder. “But if you’re going to think about your past, rather than dwell on the reasons you shouldn’t have done something, remember the reasons you did.”
I look up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean everything we do in life has some element of right and wrong to it.”
“Like?”
My grandpa thinks. “Give me an example of something crazy that you’ve done in your life—something that looking back now doesn’t seem so smart.”
I laugh—Where do I even begin?
“And don’t hold back,” he adds, “just because I’m your grandpa. Give me a good example.”
“Okay,” I say, after thinking about it. “One time I rode on the back of a motorcycle with a strange man through the streets of Barcelona at two o’clock in the morning.”
My grandpa breathes in and out heavily for a few seconds. Once he seems calm, he turns to me. “Don’t ever do that again!”
“You said don’t hold back!” (And even so, I still did—I left out the drinking part.)
“I know, I know, you’re right,” he says, regaining his composure. “And forgetting that you’re my granddaughter for a moment, it’s a good example. With that in mind, forget all the reasons why you shouldn’t have done it.”
“Okay, forgotten.”
“I bet it was one hell of a ride . . .”
Instantly, I smile. “Oh, it was, Grandpa,” I say, turning to him. “It was exhilarating!”
“Exactly!” he says, pointing at me for emphasis. “If you’re going to remember anything from your past, then do so fondly because you can’t change a thing about it.”
Wow.
I mean, wow.
This simple idea is the most freeing thing I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s better than any self-help book I’ve read or any audio program I’ve listened to.
“Delilah, life is filled with pain and beauty. It’s a journey, a learning experience. You’ve always been a girl who has had to learn by doing, not by watching and listening—don’t change that. Don’t change now—you’re too young.”
“I’m almost thirty, Grandpa,” I point out. My birthday is in two weeks.
“No, you’re only thirty. Well, almost. Take it from your seventy-five-year-old grandpa, you’ve got a lot of living to do.”
As I hug my grandpa, the band begins to play Frank Sinatra: “That’s Why the Lady Is a Tramp.” I smile. Of all the songs . . .
“Grandpa, would you like to dance with me?” I ask.
“I’d love to, Little Darlin’,” he says. “And I love to see that smile back.”
As my grandpa and I make our way out to the dance floor, he turns to me with a devilish look in his eye. “You wanna really smile?” he asks.
“Absolutely!” I say.
“Okay,” he says quietly, “watch this.”
As my grandpa twirls me around, I see Patsy walking in our direction but don’t think anything of it until my grandpa dips me, and at the same time sticks out his foot and—
Oh my God!
Patsy goes flying through the air. As she does, I close my eyes to stop from laughing. When I hear her go down with a thud, I open my eyes, turn to my grandpa and whisper. “I can’t believe you did that!” Like a little boy, he giggles.
“I can,” he says quietly, “that woman’s had it coming for a long time!” Quickly changing his tune, he turns around and raises his voice. “Patsy! I’m so sorry!” After making a big fuss, a big scene, he leans down to help her up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Patsy says, brushing crumbs off her dress. “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to get in your way. Thanks for helping me up.”
“It was my pleasure, Patsy.”
“Mine too!” I add.
As the band at the Starlight Roof begins playing “Fly Me to the Moon,” I twirl around the dance floor like a ballerina, while my grandpa—who looks like Warren Beatty, dances like Fred A
staire and sings in my ear like Frank Sinatra—makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Toward the end of the evening I decide to head back to my room so I begin looking around for Daisy, to say good night. After searching for a while, I still can’t find her. After I ask around, a few people tell me they saw her go into the bathroom, so I head that way.
“Daisy?” I call out when I open the door. I hear sounds of someone getting sick. “Are you in here?”
“Yeah,” says a weak voice, “I’m down at the end.”
As I head to the last, large handicap bathroom, I hear more sounds of someone getting sick come from inside. It’s Daisy. “Are you okay?” I ask, knocking on the door. “Let me in.”
After I hear the click of the door unlocking, I pull it open and walk inside. Leaning against the wall is my sister, still beautifully dressed in her wedding dress but with watery eyes. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing, I’m fine. It’s just nerves.”
“Daisy, you’re wedding’s over. How can it be nerves?”
She looks down, guilty.
Wait . . . “Daisy, are you—?”
“Pregnant, yes.”
“Daisy!” Gasping, I swat her arm. Suddenly realizing I’ve just hit an expectant mother, I then begin to pet her. “Oh, sorry!” I exclaim. “So sorry!”
She laughs. “It’s okay—stop.”
“You’re pregnant?” I cover my face in shock. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
“I know. I just wanted to make sure it was definite before I told anyone, and it is.”
“Does Mom know?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
Suddenly I remember. “Wait—you told me that you and Edward were waiting.”
“Yeah,” Daisy says, cracking up. “And I can’t believe you bought it!”
“You mean you weren’t?” I ask slowly.
“Obviously not!”
“I can’t believe you.” Looking my sister square in the eye, I begin to shake my head. “Okay, this might sound like a silly question, but it’s very important that you answer truthfully, so listen carefully.” As Daisy stands up straighter, I continue. “Do you remember when you told me how many men you slept with?”
“Yeah, seven,” Daisy says. “Why?”
“Seven?” I screech. “You didn’t tell me seven!”
“I didn’t?” Daisy asks, looking guilty. “Are you sure?”
“Ah . . . yeah,” I nod. “I’m positive. You told me four.”
“Four?” Daisy erupts in guilty laughter again. “Well, again . . . I can’t believe you bought it!”
“Daisy!” As my sister continues to laugh, I ask her for the truth, point-blank. “I need to know. How many men have you slept with?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Is it higher than seven?” I ask.
She nods.
“Higher than 10.5?”
She nods again.
“Daisy,” I say slowly, in the lowest voice I’ve ever used in my life, “I can’t believe you lied to me.”
“Oh come on . . . no one tells the truth about that.”
As I look at my sister, I erupt in laughter as well, and then wrap my arms around her. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant!” I exclaim. “I’m so excited! I know sometimes it might seem like I don’t like little kids, but I do, I swear. Clean ones, that is.”
“Will you walk me to my room?” Daisy asks. “I have to lie down. Edward already knows. He’s going to stay with the guests a little while longer.”
“Yes,” I say, nodding. As I help my sister out of the bathroom and to the elevator, I decide to take advantage of her while she’s weak and continue to dig. “So, is it higher than fifteen?” I ask.
She smiles.
“Sixteen?”
She smiles again.
“Come on, just tell me,” I plead. “I won’t tell a soul.”
As the elevator doors close, Daisy leans over. When she whispers her number into my ear, all I have to say is . . .
Oh my God! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!
My sister is such a liar.
so not like a virgin
After walking Daisy to her room, instead of going back to mine, I decide to take a walk. The air smells fresh, clean—it’s been washed for days. As I stroll through the streets of New York and take in the smells, the noise, and the hustle and bustle of the city, I realize that I don’t have undiagnosed ADD, I’m just more comfortable in chaos. Wearing my scarlet dress and my high heels, I walk down the street a proud woman. A woman flawed, but still, a woman who takes chances, a woman who has loved and been loved. To go out on a limb (or twenty—or forty or sixty, for that matter) is what life is about. It’s about trying until you get it right. I’m okay with where I’m at right now. I still don’t have a job, a loft, a husband, or kids—but I have me. And I have Eva too. My grandpa is right. I can maybe myself to death or make peace with the past, with any mistakes I might have made, remember the good times and move forward. That’s what I’m going to do. Realizing this, I head somewhere important.
Once I arrive, after nervously waiting, I hear a voice.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” Daniel says.
“Amen,” I reply. I feel bad about waking him. I told a security guard that I had an emergency and needed to see him.
“Delilah,” Daniel says in a low tone as he recognizes my voice. “This better be an emergency . . .”
“It was. It is. Well, kind of . . .”
“Kind of? So you lied to get me out of bed?”
“Well, maybe, but it was just a little white one and everyone knows those don’t count.”
“White lies count,” Daniel says quickly.
“Well, then, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven,” he says, sighing loudly. “Now that I’m up, what do you need?”
“Well, remember when I said I was sorry for sleeping with some of the twenty men, that some of them were mistakes, but not all of them? Well, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Wonderful,” Daniel says in a cheerful tone. “I’m glad to hear that you’ve finally come around.”
“Well, that’s the thing . . . I didn’t exactly come around to your side.”
“What do you mean?” The tone of his voice is serious.
“Well . . . I’m not sorry for any of them.”
“None of them?” he asks, sounding bewildered.
“No, none of them. My choices might not be right for everybody, and the church might disagree with them, but they were right for me. They made me who I am. To be sorry is to regret them, and to regret them means they were wrong and evil, and they weren’t.”
Daniel sighs loudly. “I’m not sure I want to hear anymore.”
“Well you have to. I might’ve stopped coming to church when I was eighteen, but before that I spent every Sunday of my life here and have listened to”—fifty-two weeks times eighteen years, carry the one—“nine hundred thirty-six homilies, so please listen to one of mine.” I’m getting better at math.
Daniel laughs. “You like to make up your own rules, don’t you?”
“You have to in life, at least sometimes, because if you try to live by what other people deem right and wrong or above and below average—you’ll drive yourself crazy.”
“Okay, fine,” he says, giving in. “You have my ear, go ahead.”
“A very wise man once told me that when you think about the past, why not remember the reasons you did things as opposed to dwelling on why you shouldn’t have. I mean, as long as you’ve learned whatever lesson there is to learn and have come out a bigger person, then it’s silly to have regret, which is why I’m not sorry.”
“You’re not sorry for any of them?” he asks slowly.
“No, none of them.”
“Not even the last one? What was his name . . . Roger? I mean, you were really upset about him.”
“I’m not even
sorry for Roger. He was a great dancer, and he made me feel wanted on a day when nothing but rejection was thrown in my face.”
“Okay,” Daniel says slowly, kind of getting where I’m going. “Give me another example. One of the twenty.”
“Okay,” I say, thinking of a good one. “I once dated a guy named Wade who made me realize it’s okay not to be a grownup all the time, and I really liked that about him.”
Daniel laughs a little and then asks shyly, “How about me?”
I smile. “You know, you taught me one of the most important lessons there is. On a night when I was a heartbroken, you made me realize there were more fish in the sea. That’s something everyone needs to learn early in life.”
“I’m blushing,” Daniel says, after a bit of silence.
“You should be.”
After thinking about my new point of view, Daniel sighs. “Well, well, well. I know you’re not looking for forgiveness, but you have my blessing, Delilah. I’m happy you’ve come to peace with what you’ve done.”
“Thanks,” I say, smiling. “Me too.”
“Will I see you at mass tomorrow?” he asks.
“Probably not,” I say, “but maybe we could go for coffee sometime.”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Daniel jokes.
“Well, you’ve seen Thorn Birds, right?”
Daniel doesn’t say anything.
“I’m kidding!”
“Oh thank goodness!” he sighs.
Chapter eighteen
*Beep*
Delilah, this is Jesus.
Listen, God and I got your file from Daniel. After reviewing it and listening to your argument, we’ve decided to forgive you even though you didn’t really ask for it.
*Doorbell*
Oops, someone’s here, gotta go. Take care and . . . Dad bless.
*Beep*
Del, it’s Grandpa. I’ve given it some thought and have decided to take my own advice and go back to Vegas. I’m a young stud, and I need to stay where the picking’s good. Anyway, I know I’m gonna see you this morning at brunch, but I just wanted to let you know first.
*Beep*