- Lucy -
“Who is it?”
“It’s Lucy,” I said into the door, practicing my best sunny smile.
“Finally,” Mrs. Briggs said, opening the door.
“Sorry,” I said, shifting my bag to my opposite hand. “Am I late?”
“Not at all,” Claire said, crossing the room to give me a hug. “We have loads of time.”
“I wouldn’t say loads,” her Mom said.
“It’s nice to see you guys,” I said, relieved to be around a few members of the Briggs family that I hadn’t disappointed yet.
“You, too,” Claire said. “I can’t wait to catch up.”
I smiled, noticing her Mom peeking out the door.
“Hey Mom?” Claire said.
“Yes, dear?” she asked, turning back to look in our direction.
“Do you think you could go make sure all the bridesmaids are here and that Dave is still in the building?”
“Don’t you need me here?” she asked.
Claire’s face said no but her mouth said, “I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”
“Alright.”
I relaxed as soon as she left the room. Mrs. Briggs had been slightly awkward around me ever since she found out I knew about her husband’s affair. It’s not like I’d ever whispered a word of it to anyone, but I was used to her keeping me at arm’s reach.
“Thank you so much for offering to do my hair,” Claire said, giving me a big hug that was as amorous as it could be without smudging her make up.
I looked over her shoulder at the hotel suite. Everything was gold and white. I didn’t know what the venue looked like, but I imagined her dressing room was nicer than most people’s reception halls.
“It’s my pleasure,” I said.
“My Mom wanted me to do something over the top,” she said, waving her hands around. “But I just want something understated, ya know?”
“I’ll do my best.”
She took a seat in a chair that was already set up in front of the dressing table. “Is this an okay spot?”
“It’s perfect,” I said, bending over to unzip my bag.
“I love your dress by the way,” she said. “Yellow is definitely your color.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” I plugged in the curling iron and laid the hairspray, some brushes, and enough bobby pins to style an army of brides on top of the dresser.
“I’m so glad you agreed to be Aiden’s date. I know he’s a total pain in the ass, but he’s nothing compared to his last few girlfriends.”
I forced a smile.
“Did he drive you here this morning?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, releasing her hair from its plastic clip.
“Good, so he’s here. Though I almost wish he wasn’t. You haven’t heard his speech, have you?”
“No.”
“Cause he swore up and down that he was going to mortify me.”
“I’m sure he won’t.”
“I wouldn’t bet against him. I mean, he’s been warning me since the day I told him I was getting married.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said, pulling her hair back.
“Maybe if he gets really out of hand, I can give you a sign and you can chuck your drink over him or something.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a great idea. That wouldn’t call attention to his speech at all.”
“You’re right. He’d probably just go after both of us then,” she said. “At least try and make sure he doesn’t drink too much beforehand.”
“What would you suggest I do?” I asked her through the mirror. “Restrain him?”
“You’re right. I’m not going to worry about it.” She took a deep breath and splashed invisible water on herself.
“Good. Just enjoy yourself.”
“I know. God. Sorry I’m blabbing so much. I tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous.”
“Just as long as you don’t interrupt the priest before he’s done his bit.”
“Right,” she said. “Please tell me you’re used to women talking your ear off while you do their hair.”
“You wouldn’t be the first to overshare,” I said, reaching for my brush.
“You know what the scariest thing is?” she asked. “It’s times like these when I realize I’m my mother and that I’m actually not chill at all.”
I laughed.
“Like I seriously need to quiet my mind, but all I can think about is whether or not Aiden and Dave and my Dad are standing around drinking right now trying to decide if they can squeeze in a few holes on the golf course before the ceremony.”
“I promise they won’t do that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because Aiden sucks at golf, and he would never agree to anything that would make him look like an ass in front of Dave and your Dad, especially today.”
“Good point.”
“Plus, even if they did do it, they won’t get very far in a golf cart.”
“True.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you met Dave?” I asked.
Claire smiled as if she was grateful to have her thoughts directed. “Well, he was a TA in one of my econ classes in college.”
“What year?”
“Sophomore year. He was a Junior though.”
“So you guys have known each other forever.”
“A few years,” she said with a smile.
“What was the first thing you noticed about him?” I asked.
“Well, the first thing was that his fly was down.”
My eyes went wide.
“But the second thing was that he had this really geeky man bag.”
“Oh god.”
“And I remember staring at it the whole class just thinking, how could someone so adorable have such a hideous bag?”
I shook my head.
“So then what?” I asked, walking over to the dresser and facing her while I slid a bunch of bobby pins along the top of my dress so I wouldn’t have to hold them in my mouth.
“I can hold those for you if you want.”
“I’ll tell you if I need any more,” I said, stepping behind her again. “Please continue.”
“Right. So basically, I decided I had to talk to him.”
“What did you say? Your fly is down?”
She laughed. “No, he figured it out half way through class and corrected the situation.”
“Oh good.”
“But I was desperate for an excuse to talk to him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I wanted to say something really clever, but all that came out was that is a really hideous bag.”
“What?!”
“I know. I was kicking myself, but he totally saved the day.”
“How?”
“He said, I’m so glad you pointed that out, and I couldn’t agree more.” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “Of course, then I didn’t know what to say but he continued, asking me if I could keep a secret.”
“And you said yes?”
“Of course. That’s when he told me that the bag was just a prop for a study he was doing about whether women were attracted to all bags, even hideous ones.”
I laughed.
“And I didn’t know what to think then cause he really caught me off guard and, well, you’ve met Dave, right?”
“Briefly,” I said. “A few times.”
“So you know he has this painfully dry sense of humor and sometimes it’s really hard to tell if he’s joking?”
“Yeah. So what did you say?”
“I can’t remember. Something forgettable. But then he asked if I would be willing to let him interview me about the topic over coffee?”
“No he didn’t.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“So you said yes, obviously.”
“I sure did,” she said, letting out a heavy sigh. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“There was no study at all. It was just a line.”
“You’re joking!” I said, feigning shock.
“I know.” She shook her head. “And the worst part of all is that I was so charmed by him, I didn’t even care about his hideous murse anymore.”
I laughed. “Wow. Who knew Dave was so smooth?”
“He’s not. He’s not at all. I just- I don’t know- he makes me laugh, ya know?”
“Yeah.”
“And I feel like as long as he makes me laugh, I can forgive him for anything.”
“Even hideous bags?”
“Even hideous bags,” she said. “Don’t tell him I said that, of course. I want him to think my love is far more conditional and complicated than that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Her eyes sprang into little crescents. “I know.”
“Can I ask how you knew he was the guy you wanted to marry?”
“Besides the fact that he was the first to ask?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I knew the first time we danced,” she said. “We just fit, ya know? Don’t get me wrong. Dave is not a good dancer, but dancing with him… it just felt right, like everyone else who’d ever been in my personal space was intruding somehow. But when I danced with him, it felt comfortable, like he was the only one who could be that close to me without totally cramping my style. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I’m not sure how else to explain it.”
“That’s good enough,” I said. That would be good enough for anybody.