Save the Date

by Morgan Matson

  I held my expression as still as possible, as Jenny W., Jenny K., Priya, and Elizabeth all clustered around Linnie, who was pretending to do her hair. “Great!” the photographer said, lowering the camera. “I’m just going to move the lights. . . .” As soon as she stepped away, the hair and makeup team—they were a guy and girl named Shawn and Cameron, but I wasn’t sure which was which—swooped in.

  There had been shots of the two of them pretending to do Linnie’s hair and makeup, but in between those, they needed to actually do Linnie’s hair and makeup, since they were also doing the rest of us. Luckily, the videographer hadn’t been there for too long—he’d just gotten some footage of us getting ready (or pretending to) and the hair and makeup team starting to work on Linnie. Then he’d headed downstairs, and I wasn’t sorry to see him go, mostly because it wasn’t like Linnie’s room was all that big to begin with, and five bridesmaids, a bride, and a photographer seemed more than enough—and that was without the giant light bouncer thing the photographer kept moving around.

  “This is a disaster,” Linnie said as the hair guy brushed out a strand, then clamped his curling iron around it.

  “No, no,” I said, trying to be as cheerful as possible. I looked to the Jennys and Priya for backup, but they were talking in a small circle up by Linnie and Rodney’s bed. I widened my eyes at Elizabeth, who nodded and gave me a tiny wink. It wasn’t that she and Rodney looked very much alike, but their mannerisms and cadence were exactly the same—so I figured having her say something was the closest we were going to get to Rodney being here without pulling him in.

  “It’ll be fine,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “Weddings are always crazy. I mean, you remember mine, right?”

  “But your wedding was beautiful,” Linnie said, her voice getting higher and a little more hysterical. I saw the hair guy exchange a glance with the makeup artist.

  “Exactly,” Elizabeth said, smiling at her. “You didn’t see what a disaster it was behind the scenes. And now when I think about my wedding, I don’t remember that either. It’s all going to be okay.” She glanced at me, and I gave her a grateful smile.

  “But . . . ,” Linnie said, meeting my eye in the mirror. “I mean . . . Mike can barely stand up. We’re being married by a death judge. Rodney’s suit. Journey?”

  I bit my lip. “But it can’t get any worse.”

  “Okay,” the photographer said, adjusting the light bounce thing and then coming back with her camera. “Just a few more getting-ready shots and then I’ll actually let you get ready,” she said with a quick smile. The Jennys and Priya hustled back over, and all of them put big smiles on as we posed around Linnie again. “And . . . got it,” the photographer said after what felt like an eternity of listening to her camera click. “Great.” She nodded. “I’ll give you some time, and I’ll be back for when Linnie puts her dress on, okay?” Without waiting for a reply, she headed out of the room, scrolling through the pictures on her viewfinder as she went.

  “You okay?” I asked Linnie, who tried to nod but was held back by the fact her hair was attached to a curling iron.

  “Tell me it’ll be okay,” she said, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “Because I just . . .” She took a shaky breath. “It kind of feels like this wedding is falling apart, you know?”

  “No,” I said, maybe a little too emphatically. “It’ll all be fine. It’ll be great.”

  “Totally great,” Jenny K. said quickly, and Priya nodded.

  “Okay,” Linnie said with what seemed like a real effort. “Right! Things will be fine.” She looked at me as much as she could without turning her head. “Are you going to take a shower, Charlie? You should probably do it now.”

  I looked down at the time on my phone and realized she was right; I had to get moving. “Are we still going to have enough time?” I asked, looking at the hair and makeup team.

  The makeup artist nodded. “We’ll just do you last,” she said.

  “It’s critical,” Linnie said with a smile that made me think she was shaking off her panic a bit. “Charlie’s terrible at doing her own hair.”

  I didn’t even disagree with this—it was completely true. “She’s right about that,” I said, heading toward the door. “Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

  “I’ll come with you!” Jenny W. said in a falsely cheerful voice, following me toward the door.

  “What—to take a shower?” I asked, baffled, as she manhandled me out the door and then onto the landing, pulling the door shut behind her.

  “Hi!” I jumped, whirling around to see J.J. standing there, and I had a feeling he’d been lying in wait for a while.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well—” J.J. said, taking a deep breath, then noticed Jenny. “Hey,” he said, his voice dropping about an octave.

  “Hey yourself,” Jenny W. said, smiling at him, but then turning to me. “We have a problem. I think Linnie’s getting sick. She keeps sneezing, and I do not want her to do it during the ceremony.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Give her some cold medicine or something! I keep suggesting it, but she keeps saying she’s fine.”

  “Okay,” I said, nodding, adding it to my list of things I had to take care of before the wedding, the list that just seemed to get longer by the minute.

  “My turn?” J.J. asked, then not waiting for an answer, kept going. “So, I understand there’s a problem with the wedding band.”

  Jenny turned to me, eyebrows raised, and I nodded. “The wedding planner booked a Journey cover band by mistake.”

  “Streetlight People are going to be here?” Jenny asked, her voice rising as she grabbed my hand. “Really?”

  “No,” I said, staring at her. “The, um, other Journey cover band.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking disappointed. “That’s too bad. They played my cousin’s daughter’s bat mitzvah, and they were amazing.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “Sorry you couldn’t get them.”

  “We didn’t try to get them. We didn’t want any Journey cover band playing the wedding!”

  “Well, exactly,” J.J. said. “So I’m offering my services.”

  “Your services?” I frowned at my brother. “What are you—” I remembered, all at once. “No.”

  “Yes!” J.J. said, grinning widely. “DJJJ is here to help. I am a professional, after all.”

  “Jameison, you’re a DJ?” Jenny asked, smiling at him, and J.J. inclined his head modestly.

  “You only played one party,” I reminded him. One summer when he was in college, J.J. had gone through a brief phase of wanting to be a DJ. It had not turned out well, either for him or for Eloise Robert’s sweet sixteen. “And they kicked you out halfway through.”

  “I’ll have you know that I frequently pick the Pirate bus music,” J.J. said, drawing himself up to his full height. “And you know I make a mean playlist.” I was aware of this; J.J. usually made us personalized mixes for Christmas and claimed that the gift of music was the most precious present of all.

  I glanced down at the phone in my hand and realized I didn’t have time to keep arguing this point, and that, frankly, someone volunteering to take over the music sounded pretty good to me. “Fine,” I said, and J.J. threw a celebratory fist in the air.

  “You’ve never made me a playlist, Jameison,” Jenny said, her voice flirtatious.

  J.J. took a step closer to her, a smile on his face, which I took as my cue to leave. I knew I needed to get in the shower, but I’d also never gotten my bagel this morning and was feeling seriously hungry. I hurried down to the kitchen and saw only a lone blueberry left. I sighed and picked it up, and had just turned to head back upstairs when someone called me.

  “Charlotte?” I turned around to see Rodney’s Aunt Liz standing in the doorway of the family room. “Could I have a moment?” Aunt Liz was beautifully dressed, as usual, in a pale orange suit, complete with brooch and scarf, but I wasn’t sure if this was what she was going to be wearing
to the wedding, or if this was just her pre-wedding breakfast outfit. “You look very nice.”

  “Oh, this?” Liz asked, casting a dismissive eye down at her outfit, which pretty much answered my question. “Well—thank you, dear. And you’re . . .” She looked at me, and a small, worried frown appeared on her face as she took in my sneakers and jeans.

  “I haven’t gotten ready yet,” I said quickly, and Liz nodded, looking relieved.

  “I’m sorry to bother you about this. But I didn’t want to hassle Linnea or Rodney, not on their wedding day. . . .”

  “I’m sure that whatever it is, I can handle it.”

  “Good,” she said with a nod. “Because I need you to change the seating plan. I’m far, far too close to Jimmy.” She practically spat out the name, like it pained her to even say it.

  “Um . . . I’m pretty sure Linnie took that into consideration when she was making it. . . .”

  “It needs to be fixed,” she said, and the sweet older lady was now totally gone, replaced with someone who was steely and all business. “Otherwise, I know Jimmy. There will be a scene, and that’s the last thing I want at my nephew’s wedding.”

  “Okay,” I said quickly, since Liz was looking scarier by the minute. “I’ll get it taken care of.”

  “Oh, good,” she said with a sweet smile.

  I gave her a nod and left the family room, realizing that I now really needed to hurry and get in the shower ASAP. I also didn’t know how I was going to fix the seating plan—especially after the General had redone all the place cards for us. I pulled out my phone to text Bill as I walked toward the stairs.

  Me

  Hey—having an issue with two of the relatives

  on the groom’s side. Can you make sure Jimmy and Liz are seated as FAR away from each other as possible??

  Before I’d even reached the second-floor landing, Bill had texted me back.

  Bill

  On it

  I smiled as I looked down at it, incredibly relieved in that moment that he was here, that he was on my side and helping out with this.

  Me

  Thanks so much. You’re the best

  A second after I’d sent it, I realized what I’d done and looked in horror as the little DELIVERED appeared under it, letting me know that there was no taking this back. But hopefully it was fine and Bill wouldn’t read too much into it. Because I didn’t mean anything, really—just that I was happy he was helping all of us. With the wedding. That he was the best wedding coordinator’s assistant, that was all I had meant.

  Deciding I didn’t have time to be overanalyzing my text message mistakes, I hurried up to the second floor, which now was bustling and busy—I could hear a hair dryer going and the sound of water running in the bathroom. General Daniels, wearing a sharp dark-gray suit, was crossing the landing toward the guest room, his tie undone but looped around his neck. He gave me a nod, then headed into his guest room, pulling the door closed behind him.

  I hurried up to the third floor, where things were about the same—I could hear hair dryers and music coming from behind the door of Linnie’s room and J.J. and Mike talking behind their door. Priya was standing in the doorway of Mike’s room, wearing her bridesmaids’ dress with a hoodie over it, laughing with Jenny K., who was still in sweatpants.

  “Hey, Charlie,” Jenny said, smiling at me. “Did you get champagne? They just opened a bottle in Linnie’s room.”

  “She’s underage,” Priya reminded her, giving me a wink.

  “Um, so were we for most of college,” Jenny said. “And that certainly didn’t stop us. In fact, remember the night after homecoming when—”

  “I’m not sure Charlie needs to hear about that stuff,” Priya said quickly. She frowned at me. “I thought you were going to get ready?”

  “I’m working on it,” I assured her. I headed for the shower, then realized I’d left my brush in my room. I hurried over and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Danny said cheerfully, and I pushed the door open. Danny was sitting on my desk chair, already in his suit, tying his shoes. Brooke was standing in front of my mirror in a robe, leaning forward to put on eyeliner. She stopped as I came inside and gave me a tight smile, but not a particularly friendly one.

  I realized I hadn’t seen her since the night before, when she’d stormed out of the capture the flag game. “Sorry,” I said, wondering if she was going to say anything about it, but Brooke just raised her eyebrows at me as I edged into my room. “I . . . just needed to get something out of my drawer.”

  Brooke let out a short breath. “Of course you do,” she said, tossing her eyeliner down onto my dresser and taking a step back.

  I blinked at her. “Sorry,” I said again, wondering if I’d done something.

  “But if you could just take everything with you now, that would be great,” Brooke snapped. “So we’re not doing this over and over. Okay?”

  I glanced at Danny. Now that she was taking this tone with me, it was like I was realizing just how friendly and accommodating Brooke had been up until now—it was like seeing a whole other person. “Um . . .”

  “Whoa. It’s Charlie’s room, babe—she’s just going to get her stuff and then get out of our hair.”

  “I’m aware it’s Charlie’s room,” Brooke said shortly, her voice getting higher. “And I’m aware that we’re only in here because nobody knew I was coming. . . .”

  Danny ran his hand over his eyes. “Brooke,” he said, sounding tired.

  “I’ll just . . .” I edged past her, grabbed my brush, and backed out of the room. Danny shot me an apologetic look as I left, and I gave him a look back, trying to let him know that I was fine.

  I closed the door behind me, looking at it for just a second and hearing Danny’s and Brooke’s voices rising and falling behind it. Knowing I didn’t have time to worry about what was going on with them, I hurried across the landing to the bathroom, figuring that I should take advantage of it while it was still free.

  After I took one of the quickest showers of my life and changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt—the makeup artist had lectured us all on not changing into our bridesmaids dresses until our hair and makeup were finished—I hurried across the landing to Linnie’s room. I’d towel dried my hair, but I could feel it dripping down my back—the hair guy was going to blow it out before doing whatever he was going to do with the curling iron.

  “Charlie?” I looked over to see J.J. in the doorway of his room, wearing something white that covered his whole face. “Is that you?”

  “What is that?” I asked, getting closer—there were eye and mouth holes, and the whole affect was like he was trying to dress up as a ghost, but was doing a very bad job of it.

  “Rejuvenating sheet mask,” he said, adjusting it carefully. “Want one?”

  “I’m okay,” I said. “How’s Mike?”

  “He’s doing better,” J.J. said, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. “He’s resting now, and I made him drink, like, a gallon of water.” An alarm beeped, and J.J. pressed a button on his watch, then carefully removed the mask. “How do I look?”

  “Rejuvenated,” I said, reaching for Linnie’s doorknob. I knocked once, then opened the door without waiting for a reply. The photographer and the other bridesmaids were gone—there was just my sister, still in her robe, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her.

  “Linnie,” I said, smiling at her. Her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders in soft curls. And her makeup was perfect, making her simultaneously look utterly gorgeous and also like she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all and just happened to look this way.

  “You the last bridesmaid?” the hair guy asked, and I nodded.

  “Finally,” the makeup artist said, shaking her head. She glanced down at her phone, which was on Linnie’s dresser. “Because we’re almost at the end of our window.”

  “You have enough time for me, though, right?” I asked as I sat in the chair that was next to Linnie’s in front
of the mirror.

  “Just about,” the hair guy said, then picked up a comb and started combing out my damp hair.

  “You look beautiful,” I said to my sister.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving me a smile. She picked up a champagne flute that was on her dresser and took a sip, then held it out to me. I nodded and took a gulp of it, feeling that, at the least, it certainly couldn’t hurt. “Is everything okay out there?”

  “Sure,” I said, a little too quickly. “Um, Liz thought she was too close to Jimmy, but it’s okay! We’re switching them.” I turned my head to look at my sister and was horrified to see her bottom lip start to tremble. “Lin?”

  “I just don’t think I can take anything else happening,” she said, and I noticed both the makeup girl and the hair guy had stopped and were staring at my sister fearfully, like they were terrified all their hard work was about to get wrecked. “I mean, too many things are going wrong! And now Rodney’s relatives and their feud . . .”

  “Are you going to cry?” the makeup artist asked, darting forward, tissue in hand. “Because if you do, I’m going to need time to retouch.”

  This did not seem to be the thing to say to my sister, whose lip started trembling even more violently. “Linnie,” I said, turning her shoulders so that she was facing me. “Listen. It’s all going to be fine. Okay?”

  “But . . . ,” Linnie said, and I could see tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. “So much has gone wrong. . . .”

  “Yes,” I said, grabbing both her hands in mine, not wanting to dispute this, mostly because I couldn’t. “But you love Rodney. And he loves you, and that’s all that matters.” I searched my sister’s expression, and it was like I could see these words sinking in. “Right?”

  Linnie nodded, and I noticed with relief that I could no longer see tears in her eyes. “You’re right,” she said, her voice a bit shaky. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s your wedding day,” I said, smiling as the hair guy started brushing my hair again with one hand, while the other reached for the hair dryer, which was plugged into Linnie’s wall socket, along with two curling irons and a flatiron. “You’re allowed to be emotional. In fact, I think it’s expected.”