Always the Last to Know (Always the Bridesmaid) (16 page)

      Mom sticks the needle from her mouth in my dress.  That look on her face - where her eyebrows are all furrowed together and her lips are pursed - lets me know that she’s planning her words, and that they’re probably going to piss me off.

       “If you’re living with Riley, why don’t you just go with him?  He’s sitting through the wedding.  Besides, boys aren’t going to be breaking down Riley’s door to get to you.

       I don’t know if that was an insult to me or an insult to me living at Riley’s.  I’m pretty sure that I should be offended regardless of where the insult is aimed at.

       “Whatever, Mom.”  I mutter, crossing my arms across my chest.  I’m not going to argue with her, I’m not going to argue with her, I’m not going to argue with her.

       “You know that I’m right, Jessica Louise.”

      God, I hate the middle name.  I once asked her what possessed her and Dad to use that name.  She said it was in honor of her great grandma and Dad pleaded innocence, saying that he had no choice in the matter.  How hard can it be though to wrangle the name forms from a woman who is on severe pain medication for pushing a kid out of her?  Honestly.

       “Let’s not worry about my date to a wedding until it’s my wedding and my date is the groom.”

       “If I live to see that day.”  Mom says to herself.  At my huff, she looks up and sighs, “I just want to see you happy, Jess.”

       “I am happy, Mom.  I don’t need a boyfriend to make me happy.  Sure, it’d be nice to have someone but, you know, I have you, and Carla, and Riley, and even Dad when he’s not, you know, being an asshole.”

      Mom doesn’t want to, but she smiles at that.  She stands up and walks around me, inspecting the dress.  She stoops down to pick at a piece of string as she talks, “When I got this shop, I thought about the day you would come in here and get your wedding dress.  You would, of course, pick out a hideous dress for Carla and the bridesmaids to wear.  I just didn’t think you’d be the one in the hideous dress first.”

      Ah, so it’s a competition.  This shouldn’t be a surprise to me though; Carla’s mom and my mom have had this silent competition between each other since Carla and I were infants.  It started out with baby things.  I won the “Who’s Going to Get a Tooth First” contest while Carla got the coveted “First Step” award.  As we got older, it was grades, extracurricular activities, boyfriends, and now it’s a race to the altar.

      Okay, so Carla is getting married before me but, hey, I was able to eat solid foods first.  And that counts for something.  Right?  Right?!

      Wow.  That may be the most pathetic argument that I have ever made.

       “I’ll be in here one day to get my wedding dress, Mom.  I’m not going to risk my future happiness just to get married before Carla.  I’m not that competitive.”  I say as I head into the changing room to get out of the awful dress.  I only have to wear it one more time. For a long period of time. In front of 200 people.  And have it forever documented in Carla’s wedding photos.  Help.

      Mom snorts from the other side of the door, “The hell you aren’t competitive.  You almost took out your father’s eye when you played Scattergories three Christmases ago.”

       “That was an accident. I threw the ink pen on the ground.  I didn’t know that the pen would ricochet off the floor and hit Dad in the face.  It’s not like it really hurt him; he barely bled.  Besides, he totally deserved it.  He had been taunting me all day about stupid stuff. . .”

       “About Riley, you mean.”  Mom reminds me.

       “Like I said, he had been taunting me about
stupid stuff
and the ink pen nailing him in the cheek was just Karma doing its job.”

      I walk out of the changing room, now back in my comfortable, non-hoop skirt clothes, and hand Mom my dress.

       “And it’s not like the ink pen left a scar.”  However, it does serve as a guilt trip.  Whenever I’m at home and Dad wants something, he’ll grab his cheek and talk about how he was “cut down in his prime” until I help him out.  That’s how he conned me into helping him redo the master bathroom.  And tar the driveway last July.

       “I know I’m sounding like a broken record here, but Jess, I’m just worried about you.  Riley’s a good boy, but I’m just concerned that rumors will spread.”  Mom says as she heads to the front of her shop, my dress in her hands.  I follow behind her, rolling my eyes as I do so.

       “Rumors?  What, is this town so boring that people actually have nothing better to do than talk about me and Callahan?”

       “You two have caused so much ruckus over the years.  Everyone knows your names because of the way you two behave.  For Pete’s sakes, both your and Riley’s faces made the front page of the newspaper for the Home Depot incident.”

       “Which was Riley’s fault.”

      Mom ignores me, “I just don’t want my daughter’s name dragged through the mud.”

       “I’ll be fine, Mom.  I’ve just secured a great job, I have a nice place to live, and if I ever get a date, I’ll tell him that Riley’s gay.”  I smile, “See?  I have it all figured out.”

      Mom walks into her office while I just stand at the door and watch her fiddle with my dress.

       “When are you going to grow up, Jess?”

       “I am grown up.”  I pout.  “And, about guys not wanting to date me because I already live with a guy. . . you know, I’ve never had guys jumping to ask me out before.  I doubt they’ll start now.  Besides, maybe I don’t want to date anyone right now.”

      This causes Mom to look up from the dress.  She raises an eyebrow, “You don’t?”

       “Fine, I wouldn’t mind having an occasional date.  But still, there’s a lot going on right now.  I just changed jobs, I have to decorate Callahan’s house, and Carla’s going to be popping out a baby in nine. . . oh shit.”

      Mom drops the part of my dress she had been working on to stare at me. “Carla’s pregnant?”

      Dammit, I seriously have to stop talking.

      Think of a lie, think of a lie.

       “No, um, I’m just saying.  You know, with the honeymoon after the wedding, I just assume that she’ll be pregnant and having the kid in nine months...”  I sigh, completely defeated.  “Yes, she’s pregnant.  But you can’t tell anyone.  Her mom doesn’t even know yet.  Evan’s parents know though.  So does Riley.  And Annie.  Yeah, pretty much the only person that doesn’t know is Carla’s mom.”

      Mom is still staring at me, “Are they going to tell Molly?”

      I nod, “Yeah.  Carla and Evan are having dinner with her right now to break the news.” 

      It was actually me who suggested that Carla fix dinner and have her mom over, instead of them going out to a restaurant.  You know, just in case Carla’s mom reacts loudly, whether it be tears, shrieks, or spontaneous combustion.  That’s not the kind of thing you want to have happen in a public place.

      Mom’s reaction really is better than I thought it would be.  Hell, I was more shocked by Carla’s news than Mom seems to be.  I mean, Carla’s always said that she wanted to have kids before she reached 25 and I knew that she and Evan were doing It, but I didn’t think that they were doing It without protection.  Plus, I really thought that Carla would avoid pregnancy in her wedding dress.  But she’s really excited about it.  She already has a baby binder started and it looks horribly similar to her wedding binder.  That poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.

      Mom, who has already recovered from the news of Carla’s pregnancy and gone back to work at the bottom of my dress, looks up at me.  “Jess, I know you don’t
need
a date to the wedding but would you please make your mother happy and go with Riley?  You’re both already going, you’re living together, and I’ve already discussed it with Molly who talked to Riley about it earlier.  We’re not saying that you
have
to go together but, please, think about it.  It makes my heart heavy to think about you being all alone at that wedding.  And I know that Molly feels the same way about Riley.”

      This is the guilt trip from Hell.

      I sigh, “Fine.  I’ll talk to Callahan.  I’m going over there anyway.”  I don’t want to get in the way of the dinner party that Carla’s throwing.  Seriously, I’m deathly afraid of Ms. Callahan and her reaction to finding out that her youngest is pregnant, and also her being the last to know about it.

       “Thank you, Jess.”  Mom puts a hand to her heart, “This means a lot to me.”

      My mother, the Guilt Trip Queen, ladies and gentlemen.

***

      I walk into Riley’s house, surprised by the silence.  Riley’s car is sitting outside but the house is totally quiet and empty.  Upon further investigating I find a note in Riley’s scrawled handwriting that says he’s taken Jackson for a walk.  At least, that’s what I think the note says.  How Riley can ever accuse me of sloppy penmanship is beyond me.  The only thing I can clearly read is ‘Jackson’ and ‘walk’, and I’m not entirely sure that’s what it says.      

      I go into my new bedroom to straighten things up.  I’ve done a pretty good job of that so far.  I already have the bulk of my clothes and shoes in the closet and a collection of books on a small shelf.  I’ve hung up my Japanese flowers print and picture frames of family and friends and a poster of Hanson on the inside of my closet.  I’m not ashamed of being a Hanson fan
(they have more songs than just MMMBop, I promise)
,
I just can’t take Riley making fun of me for it.  Of course, he doesn’t have much room to talk since I know that he has a hidden copy of a Wilson Phillips CD on the top of his refrigerator behind his collection of empty liquor bottles, many of which I’ve helped him finish off over the years.

      I move a few picture frames onto my nightstand and bookshelf and realize that there’s nothing left that I can do to my room until Riley and Evan move my bed and dresser over here on Friday.  Besides, Annie’s novel is sitting on my nightstand and, I kid you not, it’s yelling at me to read it.

      After grabbing a bag of Doritos and a Diet Pepsi out of the kitchen
(God bless Riley for being insecure about his weight and only buying diet soft drinks)
, I curl up on the couch with the possible smut novel.

     
Elizabeth McDonalds was a sweet girl.  That is what everyone said about her: she was a sweet girl.  She was never referred to as beautiful, though it was thought by many, one man in particular, that she was pretty.  She had soft features that were not unpleasant to the eye and her charm caused everyone to like her.  Refusing to go by her proper name and lacking the grace most ladies of the day had, Bess McDonalds was able to keep her family and closest friends on their toes.  Her clumsiness was unintentional and her friendliness genuine.  Despite her attributes and a fair-sized dowry, Bess remained unmarried in her twenty-second year because, where she was kind and forgiving, she was also stubborn and a firm believer in marrying purely for love, and not for a healthy income, like her mother wished her to do.

      Riley was so wrong; this isn’t a smut novel.  It’s a story about a girl who doesn’t fit the norm and will, by the story’s end, find love and success and happily ever after. What’s slutty about that?

     
Mr. Tiley stood in the other room with his ear all but pressed to the door to hear the conversation occurring in the next room.  He looked about occasionally to make sure he was not caught eavesdropping by his mother.  While five and twenty years, he was still aware that his mother was capable of giving him a smart smack on the head.  With the coast clear, he heard the Italian make a joke and the laughter that followed.  He picked out Bess’ laugh clearly among the rest.  Why, he recognized that voice better than he recognized his own sister’s, who was also in the room with Bess and the Italian.  While Tiley tended to be annoyed by his sister’s presence when Bess was near, he was never more thankful that Marla was in that room as well.

      I smack the pad of paper and look at Riley, who had came in twenty minutes ago.  He looks up from his sketchpad, startled.

       “See, this book isn’t smutty.”

       “Not yet anyway.”  He replies as he continues to draw in his non-work sketchpad.  Jackson is lying in between us watching Jimmy Neutron have a brain blast.

      I pick at the corner of Annie’s story and think of how to bring up what Mom talked about today, about me asking Riley to the wedding.  I open my mouth to say something, though I have no idea what.  Thankfully, I’m saved by Riley.

       “Did your mom happen to put you on a guilt trip about your singleness today?”

      I snort, “My mom
always
puts me on a guilt trip concerning my singleness.  At my dress fitting earlier, she was voicing her thoughts about me going stag to Carla’s wedding. And how she and your mom had talked about us going together.  To the wedding, I mean.”

      Riley shakes his head.  “Our mothers are diabolical.”

       “Don’t I know it.”

      Riley looks at me, his green eyes catching my blue ones.  Something in his face is different, but I don’t know what it is.  Even when he talks, his voice, his tone, sounds unlike anything he’s ever said, at least to me anyway.

       “Do you want to go to the wedding with me?”

      He sounds almost vulnerable, which isn’t like Riley.  He’s usually so sure of himself.  And, when he’s not, he has humor to make up for his lack of confidence.  But right now, he sounds, I don’t know, afraid?

      And I’m so unsure of what else to do that I just nod my head.

      Riley smiles and maybe even breathes a sigh of relief.  I have to be imagining things.  Before I can question him about that, his phone rings.  By the ringtone, “Lime in the Coconut” by Harry Nilson, I know that it’s Carla.  She was given that ringtone after an unfortunate incident that Riley and I both witnessed involving Carla, lime, a toilet plunger, and a lot of tequila.  Why he chooses to remember that night every time his sister calls is beyond me.  I just know that I’m unable to repress that memory because of the song he has associated with it.