Eighty and Out (15 page)

The morning of the wedding, I woke up both excited and conflicted. I was standing up with Juan, and although we’d been having a lot of fun, I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. I put on my eyeliner, and as I started applying mascara, decided not to fret. I was leaving tomorrow anyway, and it wasn’t like he was pursuing me; it was just a comment Bernice had made in passing.

I drove with Grace and Bernice to the church, a large one in town called St. Francis Cathedral. It was the tallest building in the area, a Romanesque Revival Grace had said, and it stood out amongst the adobe buildings.

Bernice’s parents were waiting out front. We said hello to them and went inside. Her parents joined Alejandro’s, and she and I took our places until the ceremony started. My dress felt tight as I stood and admired the inside of the church. Alejandro’s three cousins, who were also standing up in the wedding, fidgeted with their dresses as well.

A pianist began playing, cueing it was time to begin. The younger cousins paired up with their male counterparts and took practiced, measured steps down the aisle. Then it was my turn. Juan had a serious look on his face as he stood by my side, and then he nodded, and we began walking down the aisle.

I stood next to the female wedding attendants and held my breath as I watched Bernice approach, arm in arm with her father. Emotions welled up and tears filled my eyes even though I had sworn I wouldn’t cry. I took a few deep breaths and was able to hold them back, but as the priest said, “I now proclaim you man and wife,” a few escaped.

We went back to the ranch after taking pictures. The yard had been transformed with a large white canopy covering tables decorated with white roses and candles. Alejandro’s parents, aunts and uncles had been working hard behind the scenes to make every detail just right, and from what I could see, they had done a stellar job.

The food was set out buffet-style on a long table so we could pick what we wanted, and hungry guests lined up behind Bernice and Alejandro, filling their plates with a little bit of everything.

“Try that dish,” Juan said, pointing. “Mom made that one mild.” I didn’t see him come up behind me and was slightly startled.

“I think your definition of ‘mild’ and mine are two very different things,” I said in a low voice so only he could hear.

Juan laughed. “If you say so.” He scooped a portion from the other tray onto his plate. “Now this is the good stuff,” he said.

I scanned the other dishes and took a small portion of each. “That’s all you’re eating?” he asked.

“I’m using dinner as an appetizer for dessert, which I’m planning to make the main course.”

“I hate to break it to you, but there’s chile in the cake, too,” Juan deadpanned.

“No!” I frowned. “I’ve been looking forward to eating something sweet.”

“I’m kidding.” He grinned. “What? You think we put chile in everything?”

I pursed my lips. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Juan and I went to sit at the main table with Alejandro and Bernice, and when everyone was seated, Alejandro’s dad stood and made a toast. We clinked glasses and took a sip of champagne, and as we were about to eat, Juan stood. “I’d like to say a little something, too. I’ll keep it brief so our food doesn’t get cold.” A few in the crowd giggled, then he said, “I just want to say I’m very happy my brother married Bernice. She’s an amazing woman and a great friend. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.” Guests raised their glasses again, and everyone dug in.

“So when did you get married?” Juan asked me.

My neck muscles tensed. “A year ago,” I answered.

Juan nodded and appeared to give my answer some thought, regarding the guests.

“This is nice,” he said. “I’d be happy with a wedding like this.”

“Yeah. It’s been wonderful. The church was mind-blowing. The ranch is beautiful. You can’t ask for anything more.”

Juan sighed. “Now all I need is that special someone.”

I made eye contact and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find her.”

One of Juan’s aunts stood and said it was time to cut the cake. Bernice and Alejandro rose and went toward her, holding hands. After they had done their ritual, his aunt expertly sliced and passed out pieces for each guest.

Juan and I returned to the table with ours.

“Now you can finally eat,” he said.

I grinned and stabbed my fork into my piece and took a bite. The cake was moist and sweet and decadent, and most importantly, it didn’t scorch my tongue. Juan seemed to be enjoying his just as much, and I was thankful he didn’t notice I had finished my slice before he had finished his.

“How do you like the dessert?” I heard Bernice ask from down the table.

I leaned forward so we could see each other. “I could eat the whole cake,” I said. She giggled and shook her head.

“I didn’t know you had such a sweet tooth,” she said.

“Must be the company,” I answered, then immediately corrected my faux pas, “I mean the occasion.”

I heard Juan stifle a laugh next to me.

Bernice’s new in-laws had hired a band for the reception. During dinner, they had played slow songs as kind of gentle background music. When everyone had finished eating dessert, they took a short intermission, announcing they’d play the first song for the bride and groom when they returned. Fifteen minutes later, they came back and began softly strumming their Spanish guitars. I had never heard the tune and was trying to figure out what it was but gave up on it, preferring to watch Bernice and Alejandro stare with intensity into each other’s eyes as they swayed from side to side.

The song ended, and Juan turned to me. “Since we’re standing up together we’re supposed to dance together,” he said.

“Yes, of course.”

The next song was a slow one too, and instead of pulling me close, Juan took my hand in his and placed his other one high on my waist like a gentleman. His cousins paired up, surrounding us, and for a moment I felt like family.

“You know we’re drinking tonight, right?” Juan stated matter of factly.

“When you say we, do you mean you and me?”

“Yes. It’s your last night here and your best friend’s wedding. You can sleep the hangover off on the flight home.”

I considered protesting but changed my mind. He was right. This was the time to live it up.

The song ended and Juan led me to Alejandro and Bernice. Apparently they had agreed to do one shot of the good tequila his dad had saved from a trip to Mexico, but no more as they didn’t want to get drunk on their wedding night. After Juan said something to the bartender in Spanish, he reached down and pulled out a bottle and poured each of us a shot.

Alejandro lifted his shot glass. “To Bernice. The woman of my dreams. My wife.”

Bernice beamed at him for a beat, and we downed our drinks in unison. A rush of heat warmed my insides.

“Good. No?” Juan asked me.

“Very good.” I remembered the two glasses of champagne I had earlier and hoped the liquors would mix well, dismissing the thought when the band began playing a fast song.

“Let’s dance,” Bernice said to me.

We stepped onto the dance floor, a wooden platform painted white, and I quickly felt intimidated by the dance moves of her new relatives. They all swiveled their hips and glided around with grace, where Bernice and I moved with more awkward, angular motions. Bernice’s parents danced nearby, looking happy and unconcerned with their skills, and when they saw me glancing their way, waved and smiled.

When the song ended, Bernice went to chat with her parents and her aunt, and I got another piece of cake. Juan came and sat down next to me, looking bored.

“It’ll all be over soon,” he said, sounding a little sad.

The thought of leaving made me morose, too. Bernice and I had promised to visit each other as often as possible, but who knew how much we’d really get to see each other? Jim had reminded me we always had the phone, which I was grateful for, but it just wasn’t the same.

I turned to Juan. “I thought we were going to drink. We’re just getting started.” I had never had more than one drink in my life, but decided to make an exception since it was Bernice’s wedding.

Juan flashed his set of white teeth. “Let’s go.” We rose and made our way to the bartender.

“One more shot of the good stuff,” he told the man, who reached down and grabbed it from below and poured us each a shot. Juan and I clinked glasses.

“To love and happiness,” he said. “May we both have it the rest of our lives.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said, downing the elixir in one gulp.

Aunt Grace came to join us. She studied me, seeming satisfied with what she saw. “Looks like you’ve finally let loose. Good girl,” she praised.

I smiled back at her, unsure how to respond. A fast song started, and Juan suggested we dance. Soon, we were next to Alejandro and Bernice. I did my best to copy Juan’s dance moves, the booze seeming to have done wonders for my form.

Suddenly, just as Juan predicted, the night was over. Bernice and Alejandro said goodbye to everyone and headed to their hotel room. And I, drunk and sweaty, stumbled toward the nearby guest bedroom.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye before you leave,” Juan called after me. I promised I’d remember, and later, as I lay on my bed, I realized if things were different, I wouldn’t go home.

I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a train. Every muscle in my body ached, and my head hurt so much it was unbearable. I forced myself out of bed to use the restroom, and on the way there, reminded myself not to live it up like that ever again.

Grace found me on the way back to my room. “I made breakfast,” she said in a soothing tone. “You should eat a little something before you leave.”

“Thanks,” I rasped. My voice sounded awful.

I padded to the kitchen and sat at the table. Bright light streamed in through the sheer curtains, making me cringe.

“Here,” Grace said, handing me two aspirins. “This will help.”

I wordlessly accepted them and dug into my meal. After eating half of it, I took the medication and checked the time. I had to hurry up and get ready because Bernice would be over in an hour to take me to the airport. I had told her not to since it was the day after her wedding, but she’d insisted. She wanted to be the one to take me and say goodbye.

After putting my hair up, I took a quick shower. The hot water felt so good I could have stood there all day. Instead I was in and out in ten minutes. I managed to make myself look somewhat presentable, taking the remaining time to smash my belongings into the suitcase and snap it closed.

I heard Bernice pull up as I dragged my luggage to the foyer. The front door opened, and she smiled at me.

“You look amazing,” I told her. “Your skin is glowing.”

She grinned. “Wish I could say the same for you.”

“It’s Juan’s fault,” I joked. “Speaking of which, I promised I’d say goodbye before we left.”

“Sure. Just let me put your suitcase in the car, and we’ll head over there.”

Juan came outside when we saw us coming.

“You don’t even look hung over,” I told him.

He smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Truth is, I feel like crap.”

Bernice laughed, but I found myself feeling serious all of a sudden. “It was nice meeting you, Juan. Thanks for everything,” I said. And I meant it too. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Every day in New Mexico had been a blast.

“Nice meeting you, too,” he said. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” I wasn’t sure if I should hug him goodbye or not, so instead I simply chose to wave.

Bernice and I got in the car and headed to Albuquerque.

“So, how was it?” I asked.

Bernice took her eyes off the road to glance at me. “Amazing. I’m going to do it again when I get back home.”

“I feel bad I took you away.”

“Don’t feel bad. I wanted to take you.”

The scenery zipped past as we chatted, and as we got closer to town, I said, “I had so much fun. Jim would have loved it here.” Once I said his name, I realized how much I missed him.

“Come together next time,” she suggested.

We pulled into the airport and parked the car. She sat with me until it was time to board the plane.

“You’ll visit Chicago, too,” I said. “We’re still going to see each other, right?”

Bernice’s eyes filled with tears. “We’re going to see each other plenty. I promise.”

I hugged her and smiled, wiping some of my own tears away. I boarded the plane and fastened my seat belt. After the plane filled with passengers, I heard the engines roar, signaling we were ready for take-off. Once we were in the air, I gazed out the window, admiring the mountains one last time before closing my eyes and falling asleep.

Jim waved at me while smiling brightly as I walked off the plane. I ran to him and gave him a big hug and kiss.

“I missed you,” he whispered in my ear.

“I missed you, too,” I cooed.

We held hands on the way to get the luggage while I babbled non-stop about the wedding, going horseback riding, and drinking too much alcohol. Jim listened to it all.

Once we were heading home, he said, “Boy. I’m sorry I missed the wedding. It sounded like a great time.”

The next day Jim and I brought dinner to his dad, who was feeling much better. The three of us spending time together reminded me I was happy with the life I had, and that it didn’t matter where I lived. I had everything I wanted. Well, almost everything. I thought of our reunion the night before and had no doubt I’d get pregnant soon.

I stopped by Jeannie’s the next day. She wanted to hear about Bernice’s wedding, so I filled her in on all the details. “Sounds like this Juan had the hots for you,” she said.

“You think so? I don’t know. Anyway, he knows I’m married.”

Jeannie shrugged, then went to change Lisa’s diaper. While she was gone, I wondered if Jim had gotten the same impression. I hoped not. I didn’t want him to think he had something to worry about.

When Jeannie returned, we changed subjects and began chatting about Lisa. She filled me in on all the cute things she had done recently. We talked all afternoon, and as I was about to help her start dinner, Chuck came home, looking distraught.

“What is it, honey?” Jeannie asked him.

Chuck let out a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.” He walked into the family room, said hello to me, then took a seat. “My buddy’s younger brother died in Vietnam. He’s completely devastated.” Chuck glanced at me. “You might know him, Lou. He was your age. A kid named Frankie.”

When Chuck said “Frankie,” I burst into tears.

Jeannie scooted closer. “You okay?” she asked.

I nodded, still sobbing. I don’t know what had come over me, but I couldn’t stop crying.

Chuck left the room and returned with a box of Kleenex. I nodded thanks, took some and blew my nose while they both sat in silence.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It just feels so odd to think of him gone. I mean, we weren’t the best of friends – we were probably even enemies for a time – but we grew up together, you know?”

“Yeah,” Chuck said, nodding. I made eye contact with him and wondered what unspeakable horrors he’d experienced over there. He had still never told anyone, not even Jeannie.

We spent the rest of the night reminiscing. I chose to discuss the good times I’d had with Frankie instead of the many disagreements, and by the time Jim came to pick me up, I was feeling a little bit better.

“I feel bad Frankie and I drifted apart,” Jim said as we lay next to each other. He leaned over and gave me a kiss. “If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“True.” I thought of that day at the soda shop. Frankie had made me so angry with his silly prank, but I had forgiven him. We were young and did stupid things then.

Jim, Chuck, Jeannie, and I drove to the funeral together. No one uttered a word on the way there. I glanced at Jim as he drove. His hands gripped the steering wheel, and his jaw tensed. He had apologized in advance, saying he didn’t do well at funerals, and that he wouldn’t be very pleasant today.

I smiled inside, knowing how hard it was for him to admit what he considered weakness to me, and hoped I could find strength for the both of us.

Chuck found Frankie’s Mom and Dad and offered his condolences. Jeannie stood at his side, nodding politely, not having known Frankie very well herself. After a few minutes chatting, they moved on, and Jim and I approached.

“Sorry for your loss,” Jim said to Frankie’s dad.

The man nodded, doing his best to stay composed. “Thank you,” he said.

I made eye contact with Frankie’s mom and stepped forward. “Frankie and I grew up together,” I told her. She smiled, her face brightening for a moment. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, but as we got older, we became friends. I can’t believe he’s…” My voice cracked and I couldn’t go on. His dad got teary-eyed, and his mom reached for my hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry,” I said, then Jim and I moved on, taking a seat next to Jeannie and Chuck.

I sat and listened to the pastor’s prayers with closed eyes. Afterward, Frankie’s mom got up to speak. She held a folded piece of paper. With visibly trembling hands, she opened it up.

“I’d like to say a few things about my son, Frank.” She cleared her throat and stared out at the center of the crowd. “My son was a joy to be around. He made life worth living.” She paused, trying to keep it together so she could finish.

I heard Jim sniffling next to me and reached for his hand.

“Frank was a caring person,” his mom continued. “Especially to animals. He volunteered at the pound once a week, cleaning cages and brushing dogs’ and cats’ hair. He wanted to be a veterinarian and spent countless hours telling us of all the pets’ lives he planned to save.”

Tears ran down my face as I pictured Frankie, with his chubby freckled cheeks and unruly brown hair, slaving away on a Sunday to make a difference in the lives of unwanted pets. I had never known that side of him. For most of my life I had thought of him as a bully, bent on making my life a living hell.

“When he got older, he wanted to join the army and fight for his country. He wanted to do his part.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want him to go. I was afraid if he left, I’d lose my son.” She began to sob, and I chanced a glance at Chuck, who sat still as a statue, listening. “Before he left, he told me not to worry. He said he wasn’t afraid of anything, not even death.”

When she finished her speech, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. After a final prayer, we all rose and went to the casket to pay our final respects. I recognized many of the kids we had graduated with as they went up one by one. Then Chuck kneeled before him and cried while Jeannie watched the scene, heartbroken.

Jim went before me, said a short prayer, and left. Then I stepped forward.

“Hey, Frank,” I whispered. “You look different.” I studied him, trying to figure out why. “It’s your face. It’s thinner. Like a man’s.”

I smiled as a tear rolled down my cheek. “But you’ve still got the same freckles.”