Not Quite A Bride (23 page)
Authors: Kirsten Sawyer
46
The Much Anticipated Shower
I
t's weird how, with all this planning, I hadn't really made myself mentally prepared for what it would be like to be the absolute center of attention. I mean, we've been doing all this work and obviously I desperately want to be a bride or I wouldn't have gone out and hired a fake, gay fiancé, but in all my dreaming of being the bride, I failed to think about how that meant 400 eyes would be on me.
t's weird how, with all this planning, I hadn't really made myself mentally prepared for what it would be like to be the absolute center of attention. I mean, we've been doing all this work and obviously I desperately want to be a bride or I wouldn't have gone out and hired a fake, gay fiancé, but in all my dreaming of being the bride, I failed to think about how that meant 400 eyes would be on me.
Today, I am a nervous wreck because it's kind of the warm-up to the wedding ... the bridal shower. Now don't get me wrongâI am insanely excited about the shower. A bridal shower was one of the main events I was longing for that led me to make my fake wedding decisionâI mean, by the end of the day I could very well own a French whiskâbut now that the day is here and I am getting ready, I am realizing that it's a little scary.
My mom was a complete sweetheart and bought me a new outfit for the occasion. It's an adorable sky-blue dress from J. Crew. The top has a flattering V-neck with an embroidered band around the waist and an A-line skirt to the bottom of my knee. For some reason it's uncomfortably hot in Manhattan today ... or I am uncomfortably sweaty from nerves, so I put my hair up in a highish ponytail to keep from passing out from heatstroke. Justin approves of my outfit, so at the very least I can rest assured that I look good.
Mom and Jamie are throwing me the shower at the same restaurant where we had Jamie's baby shower (which now feels so long ago). I'm trying not to be a Jamie and feel disappointed that they didn't find a different place for me ... and the truth is that the restaurant was great and the service was fabulous, so it really is the perfect spot. The biggest difference between Jamie's shower and my shower is that the hostesses today are far calmer than I was. Apparently they both remembered to purchase my gifts before the day of the shower ... show-offs.
They arrive at my apartment, with Kate, only ten minutes after they said they would and they are both calm, collected, and looking fabulous. How my sister got herself and her baby ready on time and looking adorable amazes me ... see what I mean about motherhood really bringing out the best in her? Honestly, Kate's outfit is a little cuter than mine, but I am determined not to be jealous of someone who doesn't even have teeth.
Together, the three of us make our way downstairs and into the Explorer, which Mom has semilegally parked. She must have picked Jamie and Kate up on her way to my apartment because Kate's car seat is already strapped in the backseat. I can't help but be amused at how Jamie now leaps for the backseat to sit with her daughter with the same insistence with which she took the front when she was expecting ... and when we were kids, tooâshe was the queen of yelling “shotgun” the night before. I kind of suspected she used her pregnancy as an excuse to get the coveted seat.
We all pile in and make our way across town. Because it's the weekend, traffic isn't too bad and we get to the restaurant five minutes before the time on the invitation. We hardly have our purses down when my Aunt Belinda and her daughter Michelle, one of the biggest bridezillas of all time, arrive. Suddenly, I am very shy. I decide to concentrate on what is in front of me, so I greet Belinda and Michelle and ignore that out of the corner of my eye I can see the room filling up.
Once everyone has arrived and has been greeted, I relax a bit and start to enjoy myself. It's so much fun finally being the bride! I tell the story of how we met, our “first date,” our engagement ... everyone wants to hear every story twice, and luckily, I don't mind telling. They ask me about wedding details and honeymoon plans (of which there are none ... obviously, but I just say he's going to surprise me). Everyone sits down for a lovely lunch and then, the moment we've all been waiting for: the presents!
I joyfully unwrap each package to find the items specifically requested and already adored. All the guests politely ooh and aah as I hold up pink rubber spatulas and three-tiered cookie plates. And as I open, Jamie uses all the ribbons and bows to create an adorable rehearsal bouquet for me, and I secretly save the nicest pieces of wrapping paper and all the gift bags.
I am truly touched by everyone's generosity. Today finally feels like payback time for all the years that it hasn't been my turn. I know I sound so selfish and shallow, but unless you have been miserably single for a decade while your friends were all showered in affection, you can't understand where I'm coming from ... if you've been there, you know. It's nice to be on this side of things at last.
Then everyone is served slices of delicious chocolate cake with two hot-pink hearts that say Molly in one and Justin in the other. The whole event feels like it lasts about thirty minutes. When the final guest leaves, I look at my watch and am shocked to see that three hours have gone by. Talk about time flies when you are having fun!
47
The Countdown Begins
T
ime continues to fly and before I know it, it's June. I have two weeks of school left before summer vacation, so I decide not to stress about any wedding stuff until I am on break. Yeah, right. I stress morning, noon, and night. The kids offer me a small distraction, but it's been warm and sunny out and not a single person is thinking about school.
ime continues to fly and before I know it, it's June. I have two weeks of school left before summer vacation, so I decide not to stress about any wedding stuff until I am on break. Yeah, right. I stress morning, noon, and night. The kids offer me a small distraction, but it's been warm and sunny out and not a single person is thinking about school.
It's hard to believe how quickly this school year has flown by, and it's crazy to think about how fast my fake engagement period has passed. Besides the obvious wedding-related nerves, I'm feeling really sad that my engagement is almost over. I wish I'd been able to afford to rent Justin for longer. Even I realize how ridiculous that sounds, but being engaged has been so much fun, even if it has been a lot more work than I anticipated. Plus, there is the looming dark cloud that hangs over me, reminding me that at the end of my fake wedding day, I have to go home alone. Once again, I'll be face-to-face with the emptiness of being single.
My days are filled with the trying job of keeping my students under some semblance of control and getting them ready to start the fourth grade ... no small task. Surprisingly, though, the ten days fly by and before I'm ready, the yearbooks are being handed out and it's the last day of the school year. The last day of school is always bittersweet for me. Like any normal human being, I'm thrilled to be starting a three-month vacation ... but it's also hard for me to say good-bye to the kids I've grown so attached to over the past nine months.
The kids, of course, are never sad to say good-bye. They run around the room like wild animals, signing yearbooks and eating cake. I am always sure to sign each student's book and present them with their third-grade graduation gift: an erasable pen.
Pen is the preferred writing instrument for the fourth grade and the erasable pen is a helpful segue from pencils. I am always amused by how, at age nine, being given permission to write in ink is so monumental. It's funny how things like that work ... like in second grade you learn cursive and you can't wait to learn it and you think you'll never print again ... but almost every grown-up I know prints everything they write. You pretty much use cursive to sign your checks and credit card slips and nothing else.
Finally the end of the day comes and I watch my students walk out the door and prepare myself, knowing that a whole different group of kids will be walking through it next fall. Some parents are kind enough to give “end of the year” teacher gifts and a few others know I'm getting married, so I have a small pile of presents to get home and the sad task of taking down all my classroom decorations. For some reason we have to remove everything over the summer, even though we have the same rooms each year. I'm sad to see the kids go but try to console myself by thinking about what all the coming weeks hold. EEK! I'm getting married ... well, having a wedding ... in two weeks!
48
Two Weeks to Go
T
he next day I find myself at Barney's with my actual wedding dress on my body for the final fitting. It is so much prettier than I even remember it being! My mother, my sister, and Helen all look on in awe. Then Helen takes the delicate tulle veil out and attaches it to my head with a small, pearl crown. Needless to say, my mom and Jamie burst into tears. I have too much on my mind to be my normal, overly emotional self.
he next day I find myself at Barney's with my actual wedding dress on my body for the final fitting. It is so much prettier than I even remember it being! My mother, my sister, and Helen all look on in awe. Then Helen takes the delicate tulle veil out and attaches it to my head with a small, pearl crown. Needless to say, my mom and Jamie burst into tears. I have too much on my mind to be my normal, overly emotional self.
Martha's lists have gotten long again and these items are much more hands-on and time-consuming. How ridiculous is it that I now long for the easy days of hiring DJs and videographers? Nowadays, updating the caterer with guest counts as little response cards fill the mailbox and writing thank-you notes for the many gifts already received take up my time.
I am amazed at what an angel Justin is, because really, his role is finished. Once we got engaged I needed him to be at fewer events because our “love” was proven; however, he has remained an awesome friend and partner in all the wedding planning. Secretly, I think he must enjoy doing it, because he's over at my apartment as much as ever.
I take a final look at myself in the dress and try to imagine how it will feel putting it on on my wedding day. Honestly, it's hard to imagine. It's hard to without risking throwing up, anyway. With Helen's help I step off the seamstress's platform and take the dress off, careful not to stick myself with the few pins she put in. All the stress of the past month has caused me to drop a few pounds, so the dress needs to come in a touch. I leave the dress with Helen and join my mother and sister for lunch upstairs at Fred's ... they proclaimed to be too hungry to wait for me to get changed and went up to secure a table and a basket of bread before I had the dress off.
Mom and Jamie are already sitting at a table when I find them. The wedding stress has really been getting to me, so I am hoping for one relaxing lunch, free from wedding talk ... too bad I don't get that. They both have “Wedding Day Itineraries” in front of them and a third is lying in front of what is to be my seat.
As soon as I sit down, Mom begins.
“Now, girls,” she says, and I silently swear that I will be so glad when Marion is out of her life and the “nows” stop. “Marion has printed up wedding-day itineraries for the bride, mother of the bride, and maid of honor.”
“Matron of honor,” Jamie corrects her, but Mom doesn't seem to notice ... she's too focused.
Mom opens up the organized, collated stack of color-coded paper. The first page is pink and filled with all the phone numbers: my home, my cell, Mom's, etc., and, of course, Marion's office and cell. The next page is a green page with a detailed schedule of the wedding day: when I'll be at Capella having hair and makeup done, when I should arrive at The Plaza, exactly what time I will be putting on my dress, etc. The
entire
day is mapped out for me. A wave of sadness washes over me as I read down to the parts that outline Justin's schedule, on lavender paper, and the ceremony schedule, on yellow paper, because I know it won't be going down like that.
entire
day is mapped out for me. A wave of sadness washes over me as I read down to the parts that outline Justin's schedule, on lavender paper, and the ceremony schedule, on yellow paper, because I know it won't be going down like that.
Honestly, this is getting much, much harder than I'd imagined it. I thought that concocting the lie would be the hard part, but now, as the big day gets closer and closer, like a speeding train, I realize that surviving June 30 is going to be the hardest part. Suddenly, it's really starting to occur to me what I am doing. I know you're thinking it's about time. I was only thinking about myself and how I would deal when the big day actually arrived and I was not getting married ... but now, as I look at my unknowingly excited mother and sister, I realize how many people are about to get crushed. I push my food away. Believe it or not, I cannot eat.
I sit through the meal and try to act normal while Mom and Jamie go through the information in the itinerary and chat excitedly about the big day. I pretty much feel like the meal cannot get worse when I catch something out of the corner of my eye. The something is actually a someone ... Claire Reilly. She's having lunch with someone I can only assume is her wedding planner, Bliss, based on Brad's descriptions of the psycho planner. Of course, Claire isn't polite enough to get off her ass and say hello to any of us, but I know she knows we are here. I can feel her staring at our table.
Not being known for my maturity, I sink to her level and ignore her the same way she is ignoring me. I have every intention of doing this until I am freed from this painful lunch, but, of course, things don't work out that easily.
My mother catches sight of Claire, and instead of getting in on the icy game of cold shoulder, Mom warmly calls out and waves to Claire. I feel like I'm twelve and caught in the mall with my mom by the group of popular girls ... utterly humiliated. My kind and warm mother actually gets up and walks over to the queen snot's table to greet her. Not wanting to send my own mother alone to face the ice princess, I jump up and follow along.
“Hello, Mrs. Harrigan, this is my wedding coordinator, Bliss Engel,” Claire says coolly.
“Oh my, your wedding coordinator!” my mother exclaims like a country schoolgirl.
“Yes, not everyone's mother has the time to plan her daughter's wedding,” Claire says in her usual bitchy tone.
“I guess I'm just lucky,” I say, jumping in to defend my mother. And, I must say, I really am glad to be planning my wedding with my own loving mom and not some wedding robot with a stupid name.
“Whatever,” is Claire's response.
We make the necessary good-bye, nice to see you, pleasure to meet you, remarks and then head back to our own table where I can't help but notice that Jamie seems to have eaten all of the avocado off my unfinished salad. The avocado is my favorite ... how dare she?
“That poor girl,” is the first thing Mom says when she sits down, and for a split second I think she's referring to poor, avocadoless me, until I realize she is gazing toward Claire's table.
“What?!?” Jamie and I command in unison.
“So sad that her own mother won't take the time to do these things with her.”
“Her mother probably doesn't want to be around her!” Jamie offers, a perfectly acceptable explanation in my mind and probably the minds of most third-and fourth-graders ... maybe second and third.
“Or her mother is as evil as she is and so they can't be in the same room together or their evil will destroy the world,” I offer, going one step lower than Jamie.
“Please, girls, it's sad that she has to plan her wedding with that Bliss woman.”
Jamie and I grumble in defeat. See what I mean about my mother being a kind soul? She never sees the bad in anyone. Feeling sorry for Claire Reilly should prove that to you once and for all.
We finish our lunch and leave Barney's; Jamie and I make obvious efforts to avoid looking at Claire, but of course, Mom goes over to give her one last good-bye and actually offers to help Claire with any wedding stuff if she needs it. Once Mom walks away, do you know what that bitch says?
“Whatever.”
Part of me hopes that Mom hears so that she will finally see how awful Claire is; the other part hopes she doesn't, because it might hurt her feelings and she does not deserve that. Jamie and I just turn and give her the stink eye, although I'm not sure she notices, until we are out of sight.
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