Eleven
We stood there forever, just smiling at each other in the mirror until Chloe cleared her throat.
“I’m so sorry to ruin this perfect moment, but my next appointment is coming up. If you’d like, I can ring you up and you can take them today, or you can come back another day. We have a fee for putting things on hold, but don’t worry about that.” I finally looked at her.
“What?” I had missed half of what she said.
“Don’t worry about the hold fee. I’ll waive it for you. Don’t tell my boss.” The last sentence was said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Oh, wow, thank you,” I said.
“Yes, thanks,” Cara said. “But I want mine today. I don’t think I can walk away from it. I don’t want to take it off.” I felt the same way.
“I want mine too,” I said, being impulsive. “We’ll take both of them.” Cara made a high-pitched squeal and threw her arms around my neck.
“Thank you for doing this with me, Lo. I knew it was going to be great.” I tucked myself around her and held her.
“Thank you for making me try something on,” I said. Her hair smelled like sunlight and limes.
“I can’t wait to be married,” she said, and I knew how she felt.
Maeve ended up coming to check on us again and getting totally excited asking all about our wedding details. I stuttered, but Cara covered for me and said that we were just going to the courthouse and having a party after with my parents. Maeve seemed to understand and didn’t ask any other prying questions. Cara’s dress needed a few alterations, so we were going to have to leave it there and come back in a few days, and the cost for both dresses made me want to cry, but I pulled out my credit card. None of this was going to matter soon. Money was going to be something I didn’t have to worry about. I was so looking forward to that. I couldn’t wait to spend that brain space on something else. Maybe I could take up a new hobby?
Cara and I left the shop with my outfit in a garment bag draped over my arm.
“Holy shit, Care. We just bought wedding dresses.” I stared at her and she started laughing.
“I know. I can’t believe it. This is really happening. We’re getting married.” The rings escalated things and now the dresses had made things even more intense. How was I going to deal when we went to get our marriage licenses? I was probably going to cry. My period was coming up, so that made sense.
“We’re getting married,” I said, and the more I said it, the better I felt about it. I got even more giddy than ever when I looked at my ring and then looked at her.
I threw my arms around her, which was hard with the bulky garment bag. She laughed and hugged me back, but didn’t let go right away. She held me, and wasn’t letting go.
“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to pull back so I could see her face.
“Yeah,” she said, slowly pulling back. There was a wrinkle of confusion on her forehead.
“What is it?” She smoothed everything behind a smile and shook her head, but I knew her better. She was hiding something.
“Nothing. Just excited and worried about my dress being right.” The alterations were minor; making the straps just a little shorter and taking two inches off the hem of the dress.
“It’s going to be perfect. And if it’s not, I’ll be pissed and start some shit on your behalf.” She laughed a little, but it was brief and then something crossed her face again, like the sun sliding behind a group of clouds. Something was up with her, and I needed to know what it was.
A FEW DAYS LATER, WE went back for the dress. Cara tried it on and I nearly fell over again at how gorgeous she was in it. On the hanger, it was a beautiful dress, but when she was wearing it, that dress went to another stratosphere. She made it perfect.
“Everything good?” Maeve was the one fitting it this time. “I like to make sure our alterations department is doing a good job. Plus, I know how to sew and can fix little things on the fly. But this all looks good.” Cara turned back and forth and scrutinized every seam until she nodded.
“It’ll work,” she said, and skipped back to the dressing room to take it off and Maeve followed her to help. I sat on one of the couches and realized the girl at the next mirror was the same one we’d seen with the giant entourage that had dumped on every dress she liked. I couldn’t remember exactly what dress she had been in love with, but another consultant was helping her and there was no one on the couch. She’d come alone. I thought about going over and saying something, but that would probably be creepy, so I just averted my eyes so it didn’t look like I was staring.
Cara came out with her voluminous garment bag and Maeve shook our hands one last time and said to send her pictures when we were ready.
“We should celebrate,” Cara said as we left the shop. There was no way we were getting this thing on and off public transportation, so we were waiting for a car.
“Yeah?” I said. “Celebrate how?”
“Dinner. And drinks. Champagne.” Our car pulled up and we stuffed the dress and ourselves into the backseat.
“You can leave this at my house if you need to and then we can go straight from there,” I said, and Cara nodded. I gave the driver my address and we both laughed as we tried to make room for ourselves with the bag between us.
“So we need to figure out this whole moving thing,” Cara said. Right. Moving. Moving and a wedding and finding a job and paying my bills. Sometimes I wanted to hold my head and scream, but in a few weeks, it was all going to be good and I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. At least that was what I was telling myself.
“Do you want to hire a company? I mean, I know everyone would show up and help, but do we really want to do that?” I asked.
“Yeah, you’re right. And I refuse to drive a UHaul in Boston again. Never. Again.” I agreed. I’d done the same myself and it had been a complete nightmare.
“So we should probably plan the wedding and do that ASAP so you can have the money to hire movers.” I was still shaky on the schedule of how this was all going down. I was kind of counting on Cara to handle that part and I’d deal with everything else. My mom had also been up my ass about it because she was totally serious about having a party for us at the house.
“Well, we have the dresses and I have next weekend off. How about Friday?” Friday. That was eight days away. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe and my skin flashed hot and then cold.
“Are you okay?” Cara asked.
“Yeah, I think so. That’s just so soon.” I fiddled with the zipper on the garment bag.
“I hate to remind you, Loren Bowman, but this was your idea. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.” I wasn’t. I didn’t think I was.
“It’s just the enormity of this is kind of crashing down on me and I’m having a moment. I’ll be fine.” I tried to give her a smile, but I wasn’t sure if it was convincing. Cara reached across the bag, squashing it down, and took my hand.
“It’s nothing. Like cosigning a loan. Only we’ll be wearing fucking awesome dresses. It’s just paperwork.” I repeated that to myself. Paperwork. It was just paperwork.
“I’m good. I swear,” I said, and she let go of my hand.
“SO, THE WEDDING IS going to be next Friday afternoon,” I told my mother when I called her that night after our celebratory dinner. We’d gone to a semi-fancy restaurant, had gotten the cheapest champagne they’d had on the menu, and had shared a tiramisu. I’d almost asked her if she wanted to sleep over again, but I could tell Lisa was in a foul mood and would be cold and nasty if Cara stayed. I didn’t want to expose her to Lisa’s toxicity if I didn’t have to.
“Loren. That’s eight days away.”
“I know. It’s soon, but we need to get it done. Cara has to move and we need money for the movers. So that’s when it’s happening. We’re going to get our marriage license on Tuesday and then do it on Friday. It’s just signing a piece of paper, it’s not a real marriage, Mom.” She sighed heavily on the other end of the line.
“I know, I know. You know I don’t have any sentiments about marriage, but still. It’s going to be an emotional day. You’re doing something for yourself and for Cara that not a lot of people would do. You’re taking care of each other, and that’s a big part of marriage.” Who was this woman, and what had she done with my very practical mother?
“I just want to be there,” she said in a quiet voice. Cara and I had decided that we didn’t really want or need an audience, because, like she had said, this was a contract. You didn’t bring an audience when you signed for a new credit card, or took out a loan.
“You want to come?” I asked in disbelief.
“I know I’m being a sap, but I can’t help it. Something happens to you when you have children and it warps your heart until you’re crying at commercials.” We both laughed.
“Does Dad want to come too?” I couldn’t see him wanting to witness our sham ceremony, but I hadn’t thought my mother would want to be there either.
“Yes, he does. Not to like, ‘give you away’ or any of that patriarchal crap, but he wants to see it like I do. We went to every single one of your dance recitals and spelling bees and softball games. This is no different.” I suppose I could get it when she put it that way.
“Let me check with Cara and then I’ll let you know. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, but I don’t want to say yes and make her uncomfortable. I still can’t believe she’s going along with this and isn’t bailing. I feel like I almost bailed when we decided on a day.” I stopped pacing and sat down on my bed and leaned back on my pillows.
“Why?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know. I guess that made it more concrete and real. I keep waiting for this thing to blow up, or for someone to tell me this was all a joke, or to get arrested or something for faking this thing. I guess it just seems too good to be true?”
Mom was quiet for a moment.
“Sometimes that’s true. And sometimes you get the best gifts of all when you least expect them, or think you don’t deserve them.” I had the distinct feeling she was talking about Dad.
“Just don’t let doubt ruin something amazing. You deserve good things in life, Loren. You and Cara.” There was a lump in my throat and I had to hang up quickly so I didn’t cry on the phone. I wiped away a few stray tears and sighed. I wasn’t going to let myself ruin this. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
EVEN THOUGH IT TOOK up a lot of real estate in my room, I hung my dress up so I could see it all the time and remember what it was like when I walked out of the dressing room and saw Cara. It made my hands tingle just remembering it.
Lisa moved out way before her deadline. One day I came home and all her shit was gone. Including a lot of the living room furniture, all the kitchen items (including MY pots), and even the shower curtain. What a bitch, but good riddance.
That night I was up until two in the morning moving all my furniture from my room to the room formerly known as Lisa’s. I had to clean a lot first. For someone who was so obsessed with everything being clean and in place in the rest of the house, her room was disgusting. I spent half my time scrubbing and getting rid of dust and other... stains. Part of me wondered if I was going to find a body under the floorboards or something. At last I got everything moved and went the living room, which was a fucking disaster. I decided to deal with that one another day. Plus, since Cara was going to move in, we could get our own stuff. And not a couch that we found on the side of the road, either. We could get real stuff. Adult stuff. Stuff that wasn’t pre-owned. I was excited about that too.
I got a few more job rejections and finally, FINALLY, an interview. I put on my best outfit and went to the hair salon, but I could tell immediately that I wasn’t going to get the job. Firstly, the kind of clientele was upscale and fancy. Chanel and red-soled shoes and perfume that you didn’t get at a drugstore. Coifed and traditional and conservative. I got through it, but I knew they weren’t going to be calling me back, and I was okay with that after overhearing a client abusing her stylist for doing exactly what the woman had asked for, but the customer decided that it wasn’t what she wanted and blamed the stylist for not listening to her. I didn’t want to be part of that, even if I was just sitting at the front desk.
I applied for more jobs, widening my net and going for anything that I thought might be interesting, even if I wasn’t qualified. The worst they could do was say no to me. I didn’t care if I got rejected via email. Didn’t matter.
I also thought about other things. Cara was going to school and while I had my bachelor’s degree in communication, it hadn’t exactly helped me find a job, and it wasn’t really what I wanted to do. The idea of managing the social media of company made me want to cry. I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to do something that mattered. I didn’t want to be just one part of a whole machine whose only purpose was to make rich people richer. Unfortunately, those were most of the jobs that were available to me. Such fun.
On Tuesday afternoon, we went to the courthouse and got our marriage license. The whole thing was truly anticlimactic. We just had to show ID, swear that we wanted to get married, sign, and that was it. No fireworks, no fanfare.
“That was all very... clerical,” Cara said, looking at the paper as we walked out.
“I know, right? I don’t know what I thought it would be, but not that. It really was like signing for a credit card.”
“Still, it’s kind of exciting. Just one more step and then it’s happening. Is your mom still being weird about the party?” I rolled my eyes. My mom had gone completely berserk with this whole “reception” thing. She said it was going to be a surprise and that we only had to tell her who we wanted to invite, and she would take care of the rest as a present. I’d made some food suggestions, but she’d shushed me and said she’d handle it. I was a little worried.
“Yes, she is. I haven’t seen her this excited about anything in ever. I think she might have missed her calling as a party planner.” Cara laughed and shook her head.
“Your mom is something else. But I’m kind of happy we’re having a party. That will be fun. Is she doing the invites?”
“Well, I figured that I should probably tell people before they get invited to a reception for a wedding they didn’t know was happening, so I took the liberty of telling everyone. Ansel is pissed that he’s not the best man.” Seriously, he was actually upset.
“Do you, uh, mind if he comes?” Cara slid the paper into a folder she’d brought and carefully slid that into her bag. This was one of the most important pieces of paper either of us had ever had.
“No, not at all. It would be kind of fun, since he’s the only one who really knows what we’re doing.” I was pretty sure our other friends had figured out something was up, but hadn’t pushed. Sure, Kell had badgered me for half an hour to give her details about every single thing and I’d had to make up a whole story about how one day Cara and I had realized we were meant for each other that I’m pretty sure she didn’t buy, but other than that, everyone had been shocked, then supportive, then excited. A few had even asked if we had a registry, which was something I hadn’t even thought of.
“I still don’t think we need to do the registry thing. It seems weird. Since we’re going to be getting piles of money. I’d feel bad asking for stuff from our friends,” I said.
“Yeah, I agree. And it’s all so sudden, so they don’t really have time to figure anything out. I’d feel uncomfortable if they did anything. They’re coming to the party and that’s enough. Hey, I’m starving, you want to get something to eat?”
Only four days. Four days until our wedding.