I’M TOO EXCITED TO SLEEP. I keep thinking about the wedding and Reid and the centerpieces and my outfit.
I’m in love with my dress. The design is so simple: soft and blue green, with short sleeves, and a layer of tulle under the skirt. That’s it. But it fits me in exactly the right way. It doesn’t make me look skinny. I think it makes me look fat on purpose.
I keep touching the fabric. I can’t wait to get dressed.
There’s something in the air. I feel this buzz of anticipation. Outside my window, I see my moms lining two long tables with chairs. There’s definitely no tent. Maybe Nadine talked Patty out of it. But it’s sunny and warm. I almost sigh with relief.
My whole morning is devoted to decorations. I think I’ve finally nailed it: vintage Coke crates for height, painted mason jars at different levels, and flowers—mostly baby’s breath, but some hydrangeas. I’ll stagger Olivia’s painted animal figurines all around, plus family photos, framed in painted wood. Then I’ll drape the fabric garland over the ceremony space, kind of like a scraggly chuppah, and Isaac says he’ll help me hang twinkle lights from the trees.
And I actually think I might cut up my bead string. Because I’m suddenly obsessed with the idea of magazine bead napkin holders.
Seriously, I could do this for a living. Maybe one day I will.
Though these stone-cold bridezillas can be a little challenging. I’m fielding texts from both my moms every few minutes.
Sweetie, can you remind Isaac to tip the rentals guys?
Momo, I need you to find the laptop charger
Mission abort! CHARGER HAS BEEN LOCATED.
The caterers just arrived. Maybe you could get them set up in the kitchen? Thanks!!!
I mean, I’m still in pajama pants, but I guess that’s almost like pants. I run down the stairs and almost bump directly into one of the caterers. “Oh God. I’m sorry.” I look up. And my whole face goes warm. “Julian?”
“Oh, no way! You’re Elena’s friend. Molly, right?”
My eleventh crush. Julian Portillo of the Experimental Breakfasts. And now he’s a caterer. Go figure.
“So your moms are getting hitched,” he says.
“Yup.” This is surreal. “Wow. How are you? How’s Elena?”
“Aww, she’s good. I’m good. I’m at Georgetown. Just finished my sophomore year, and I’m catering this summer. I love it.”
“That’s so great.”
He smiles, and hey: there are those dimples. Maybe I have a thing for dimples.
“Oh, and I should introduce you. This is Carter Addison,” Julian says, touching my arm lightly.
As if on cue, this lanky, curly-haired white guy sets down a covered tinfoil pan and ambles over. “Hey,” he says, smiling. And he’s sort of cute, too. He has this big, open smile. “I’m the sous chef,” he says.
“And the boyfriend.” Julian grins. “Carter, this is Molly. She’s the daughter of the brides.”
Boyfriend. I did not see that coming.
“Really nice to meet you,” I say.
“You too. And mazel tov!”
I walk them through our kitchen and show them the appliances and my cupcakes and everything I can think of. “I don’t know if this is helpful.”
“It definitely is,” Julian says. “This is great.”
“Good.” I nod. And for a minute, we all sort of stand there, smiling awkwardly. I’ve never really been good at forming words in the vicinity of Julian Portillo.
“So, I don’t want to rush you or anything,” Julian says, finally, “but maybe you should get dressed? Don’t get me wrong, I dig the plaid pants . . .”
“Oh, crap,” I say.
“Oh, she’s blushing!” He hugs me. Julian Portillo hugs me. “Man, you’re the cutest.” I catch him winking at Carter. “You know, if I’d ever liked girls, you’d have been the one, Molly.”
I don’t think there are words to explain how I feel.
Okay, you know the emoji that’s laughing and crying all at once?
It’s that. I am that.
I get dressed quickly and run back downstairs, just as Mina and Olivia are arriving. They’re pretty early—I actually think they carpooled. Olivia hugs me as soon as she sees me. “Congratulations!”
Cassie wanders over to meet us. “So, I just had the best conversation with Grandma.”
“Really?”
She grimaces, and I laugh.
“Grandma has just informed me that when a bisexual woman marries another woman, she becomes a lesbian.”
“Oh no,” Olivia says.
“And I’m like . . . Grandma, just no. No. Infinite side-eye.”
Mina laughs. “She’s very well-intentioned, though.”
“And she’s not even drunk yet,” says Cassie. Her eyes drift sideways, and she nudges me, grinning. “Hey. Your boyfriend’s here.”
I blush. It’s just weird. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone knows. I mean, it is never-ending, this weirdness. I’ll never have a handle on this.
Reid is standing near the back steps, wearing a button-down shirt. So, now I know: Reid is ridiculously cute in a button-down shirt. He smiles at me, and I smile back, and it’s like someone put the world on pause. Just for a moment.
I think I like not having a handle on this.
It feels like six o’clock will never come, but it does—and all of a sudden, we’re lined up beneath the garland chuppah. Cassie, Abby, and me, plus Isaac, holding Xavier. Xavier, who is wearing a tiny gray suit.
He is perfect.
“Welcome, all,” greets my aunt Liz.
She isn’t technically my aunt. She’s not technically a minister either, but she got certified online. “Patty and Nadine have asked me to keep this short and sweet and relatively PG-13, which . . . we’ll see.”
Everyone laughs.
“Anyway, I’m Liz, and I was Nadine’s roommate at Maryland, roughly, I don’t know, a billion years ago.” Nadine snorts. “So, true story: freshman year, we get our class schedules, and Deenie is pissed. Because they’ve put her in Biology 101—which she’d already taken in high school, and this was fucking bullshit—”
There’s this burst of laughter from the tables, because you can totally picture Nadine saying that. I sneak a glance at Abby’s parents—Uncle Albert looks stern, and Aunt Wanda is smiling brightly with raised eyebrows. Abby glances at me sideways and grins.
“Anyway, she huffs off to class, muttering and raging under her breath. And then she comes back around lunchtime, and I ask, ‘Okay, so, are they going to let you transfer out? Are they going to accept your credits?’ And Nadine is like, ‘Ohhhhh. Yeah. I like that class now.’”
Nadine covers her face, laughing.
“And I’m like, what?” Liz continues, eyes glinting. “So, this morning, you were ready to chain yourself to the door of the dean’s office over this, and now you’re like, ‘Oh, this class is the best.’ And I’m just totally baffled by it.” Liz pauses for dramatic effect. “Until a few weeks later, Nadine introduces me to Patty Peskin. Her TA.”
There’s clapping and whooping from the tables, and Nadine and Patty are looking at each other and giggling. There’s something weird about seeing your parents so openly adoring each other. I’m not saying it’s bad. Just weird.
For the millionth time today, my eyes find Reid.
He smiles.
And I smile.
“So, do you, Nadine, take this woman, Patty, to be your wife, to have and to hold, to honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Nadine says. I’ve never seen her smile so widely.
“And do you, Patty, take this woman, Nadine, to be your wife, to have and to hold, to honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”
Patty sniffs. “I do.”
Warm fingers thread through mine—Abby. I squeeze her hand tightly.
“Should we put a ring on it?” asks Liz.
I laugh. Everyone’s laughing. And Patty’s sobbing, which isn’t surprising, but even Nadine is crying a little. That’s kind of a big deal. I’ve only ever seen her cry once, and she was literally giving birth at the time.
“So, by the power vested in me by the state of Maryland, I now pronounce you legally and awesomely married.”
Then they break the glass, and everyone giggles and yells mazel tov, and a few people whistle.
And then. Well.
There’s a single moment in the life of parents when they get to make out in front of their kids. This is that moment. It can’t be stopped.
I wouldn’t stop it if I could.
Reid finds me straightaway and hugs me. “That was really awesome.”
“Thanks!” I lean into his chest, breathing in his deodorant. “Did you cry?”
“NEVER.” His dimple flickers. “A little.”
“Aww.” I grin up at him. He takes both my hands.
And for a minute, we just stand there like that, looking at each other.
He shakes his head. “Molly, you’re killing me.”
“What?”
He pauses. His cheeks are pink. “You just look really, really pretty.”
His voice is so soft. I feel my breath hitch. Because in all my years of watching movies, I’ve seen this look on a lot of boys’ faces. But I’ve never seen someone look that way at me.
“So do you,” I say quickly.
He laughs. “Why, thank you.”
Julian and Carter have set all the food out on a picnic table—brisket and corn bread and rolls and grilled vegetables. There’s the kosher stuff and vegan stuff and gluten-free stuff, all meticulously labeled. And there are stacks of those fake china plastic plates. It’s definitely a self-serve kind of wedding.
It’s still light out, but a few people are dancing by Xavier’s swing set. There’s a slow song playing, and I can’t quite place the artist. It’s definitely a famous British guy. Maybe Sam Smith.
“Are you hungry?” Reid tugs on my hand.
“I guess so?”
“Or do you want to find Abby?”
“That works, too.”
“You are so easy to please today.” He grins at me.
“I know!”
I just feel so achingly happy. Like the happiness is bubbling over. I could do anything right now, and it would be the exact right thing. This is invincible joy. I can’t ruin it. I can’t even put a dent in it.
We sit at the end of one of the tables, next to Abby and Nick. “Look at how cute your moms are right now,” Abby says.
They’re sitting on the back steps, holding hands and talking. Totally removed from everyone, for a moment. I see Olivia sneaking closer with her camera. They don’t even notice her pointing, focusing, and clicking like a paparazzo.
Then, she walks over to Cassie and Mina on the grass, smiling as she taps through her viewer window to show them.
Cassie’s beaming.
“For someone who thinks of herself as such a cynic,” I murmur.
“I know. Cassie’s actually the biggest mush of all of us. Pure goopy-hearted grossness.” Abby laughs. “Hey, before I forget, look who’s here.”
She lifts her chin slightly, gesturing to a point behind my back.
I turn my head, and my mouth falls open.
“Oh my God.”
Abby grins. “I know!”
“Did you know she’d be here?”
She shakes her head. “Should we go say hi? Can we leave you two dudes alone for a sec?”
Nick and Reid look at each other. “Um, sure.”
Our boyfriends.
I stand, smoothing my dress down. Abby takes my hand, and we walk across the lawn.
Aunt Karen’s sitting alone at a table, hands folded across her chest. She looks stiff and uncomfortable and, honestly, sort of miserable.
But she’s here.
Holy shit.
She lights up when she sees us. “Hey, babies!” she says. “Oh my goodness. Look at you two. You look beautiful. So grown-up.”
She hugs us both, and we settle into seats on either side of her.
“The backyard looks different. Was it landscaped?”
“Um, yeah. Like, two years ago,” I say.
Aunt Karen nods.
“So. Um. How are the dogs?”
She brightens a bit. “Oh, they’re good. They’re real good. They’re staying with my friend Madge, and her husband’s grilling steaks tonight. New York strips.”
“Um. For the dogs?” Abby asks.
“Mmmhmm. They love steak.”
“That is really special,” Abby says, cutting her eyes toward me.
Aunt Karen smiles. “They’re really special dogs. Abby, I was just telling your mom about my shepherd mix, Daisy, and she said—”
“Aunt Karen, I thought you weren’t coming,” I blurt.
There’s this beat of silence.
And then finally, she says, “Well, I guess I couldn’t miss it.”
“Does Nadine know you’re here?”
She purses her lips. “I assume so.”
“Do you . . . want me to go get her?”
“Oh no,” Aunt Karen says quickly. “It’ll just be . . . you know. This is her night. And Patty’s night,” she adds awkwardly.
As soon as she says it, I realize she’s never mentioned Patty by name before, ever.
“And I’m not here to complicate things,” she continues. “Deenie and I have a lot to talk about, obviously, and I owe her . . .” She trails off, shaking her head. “But not tonight. Tonight, I just wanted to be here.”
“Well, thanks for coming, I guess.”
“Is that you, mamaleh?”
I swivel to find Grandma Betty, holding one of the picture frame centerpieces—which she sets facedown on the table as she settles into the chair beside me.
Oh my goodness. Family overload.
“Hi, Grandma.”
I find I’m sucking in my stomach. I guess I feel self-conscious around her sometimes. For just a split second, I wish I’d worn Spanx.
“Have you met Aunt Karen?” I ask quickly. “I know you know Abby.”
“Of course. Lovely to see both of you again.”
I tap the edge of Grandma’s frame. “What picture is that?”
“It’s a very unflattering photograph of me. I want to know who picked this to be a centerpiece.” She shakes her head and smiles. “I’m lodging a formal complaint.”
That kind of throws me. I didn’t know old people still got self-conscious about that stuff. Now I totally want to see the picture, of course—and Abby must be thinking the exact same thing. “Betty, you have to show us! We won’t tell anyone.”
“If you show us, I’ll hide it for you,” I add.
Grandma grimaces but turns the frame over in her hands.
Abby gasps. “Oh my God, that’s a stunning picture.”
And it is. Holy shit. This photo. It’s black and white, and Patty’s just a baby, so it must be from the late sixties. But Grandma’s the one I can’t take my eyes off of. She’s in her twenties, smiling gently. Balancing Patty on her hip and looking straight at the camera.
She looks exactly like me, except old-timey and beautiful.
And she’s fat.
When I look up, she’s gazing at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “I’m hard on you, aren’t I?”
I blush. “I don’t know.”
“I hated being overweight. I gained seventy pounds when I was pregnant with your mother. I felt like I was living in a different person’s body.”
I pause. Inhale. “I get that.” Exhale. “But I don’t feel like that, you know?”
“I know, and that’s a good thing. I’m so sorry, mamaleh. I shouldn’t turn my issues into your issues.” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “You are absolutely beautiful.”
I feel my cheeks burn. Here’s the thing: I’m used to being told I have a pretty face. Or pretty hair, or pretty eyes. But it’s different, being called beautiful. Just beautiful, without conditions. And for some reason, it’s even stranger hearing it from Grandma Betty than from Reid.
It makes my eyes prickle.
Grandma clears her throat. “Anyway, wasn’t that just the loveliest ceremony?”
“It was,” Abby says.
Aunt Karen shrugs. “It was nice,” she says softly.
That shrug. The particular set of Aunt Karen’s shoulders. It’s as if that shrug contains forty years of secrets and fighting and road trips and bunk beds.
The thing is, it’s exactly how Nadine shrugs.
And suddenly, I can picture it: Cassie and me, twenty years from now. Married. To Mina. To Reid. Or not. Maybe we’ll marry people we haven’t even met yet. Maybe we’ll never marry at all. We might see each other every day. We might see each other once a year. Maybe it will ebb and flow and change with the decades. Maybe we’ll never pin it down.
I think every relationship is actually a million relationships.
I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing.
It’s better when the sun sets. I think it’s the twinkle lights. There’s something magical about twinkle lights on tree branches. A few people have gone home, but even more people are dancing, and Abby and Nick are right in the middle of it. I haven’t talked Reid into dancing yet. Right now, he’s primarily focused on being smug about the paper pennant cake topper.
Which, admittedly, was his idea.
Which, admittedly, turned out adorably.
But now we’re back at the table, and Reid’s holding my hand while talking to Olivia, and Xavier’s passed out in Cassie’s arms. Mina’s eating a cupcake, wiping her hands on a napkin between bites. But despite the movement all around us, there’s this stillness in the air.
“I could never actually be a wedding photographer,” says Olivia.
“Why not?”
“Too many perfect moments. I can’t keep up with them.”
I feel suddenly choked up. “Yeah.”
Reid squeezes my hand.
The song changes to something loud and fast, and I catch a glimpse of Isaac on the makeshift dance floor, spinning one of my moms’ friends in circles. I think he’s wearing a bunch of my magazine bead napkin holders as bracelets. Aunt Liz is perched on Xav’s tire swing, gesturing emphatically, making my moms laugh. And Abby’s parents are defiantly slow-dancing, despite the music. It’s actually kind of sweet.
“I think I’m going to snap a few more pictures,” Olivia says.
“Okay,” Cassie and I say in unison, with perfectly matching intonation.
Olivia narrows her eyes, pointing a finger at each of us. “It’s like you two are twins or something.” As she walks away, she pantomimes an explosion from her head. Mind. Blown.
Mina giggles, and she and Cassie exchange these smiley, soft-eyed glances. I look away quickly. Not because I’m an eleven-year-old boy.
Just—you know. So they can have their moment.
I think this is me letting go. Bit by bit. I think these are our tiny steps away from each other. Making not-quite-identical footprints in not-quite-opposite directions.
And it’s the end of the world and the beginning of the world and we’re seventeen.
It’s an awesome thing.