Always the Last to Know (Always the Bridesmaid) (15 page)

      Matt asked me not to tell Carla and Evan that he’s gay but he didn’t mention anything about not telling Annie.  And Annie will take a secret to the grave.  Plus, she’ll never see Matt ever again.  And if I tell her that Matt’s gay, then she’ll stop talking about the things that she’d like to do to him.

       “Annie, about Matt, he’s gay.”  I interrupt her, in the middle of her description of what she would do with Matt, some ice cubes, and a lot of black leather.

      She frowns at me, “You are always looking for excuses to not date a man and you’re going to let some little obstacle, like Matt’s sexuality, keep you from love?”

       “I can’t convert the boy!”  I exclaim.

       “Can’t or won’t?”

       “Both.”  I say as a customer walks into the bank.  Before the man approaches the counter, I mumble to Annie, “Besides, he has a thing for Riley.”

      Annie winks at me, “Who doesn’t?”

      Now what is that supposed to mean?

***

       “Are you sure it’s cool that I borrow your copy of
Wedding Crashers
?”

       “Since you’re actually asking instead of just sneaking over here and taking it, then yes, it’s cool.”  I smirk at Riley as he grabs the DVD out of its case.  “But, be careful about saying the words ‘wedding’ and ‘crash’ in the same sentence.  Carla is becoming really paranoid about her wedding.”  Plus, just saying the word ‘wedding’ around her makes her talk about it. For hours. Even if you remind her that she’s already told you about the centerpieces.

       “Carla isn’t even here.”  Riley reminds me.

       “True.”  I remove my legs from the couch where I had been lounging around watching a rerun of
Friends
and writing stuff down for Carla’s wedding, and make room for Riley.  “Want to watch the movie here?”

      Riley makes a face.  “I really hate watching movies that star Owen Wilson when you’re in the vicinity.”

       “I’ll behave.  Besides, after I fell off the couch the last time I watched
Sleeping with the Enemy
, I’ve pretty much stopped talking to the actors through the television.”

      Riley chuckles.  Everyone, including the guys that live below us, know that I always end up standing on the couch yelling at Julia Roberts to shoot her abusive husband again every time I watch
Sleeping with the Enemy
.  I just keep hoping that she’ll actually listen to me and, like, shoot him in the head this time.  Honestly, Julia, it’s all about getting them in the vital organs. And the head is definitely one of those vital organs.  But does Julia Roberts listen to me?  No, of course not.  She’s just all ‘he’s dead, I’m safe, and I can live a normal life with my actor boyfriend’ and then she has to go through the whole suspenseful escape and shoot him again.  It’s infuriating.

       “Only if you promise not to froth at the mouth whenever you see Owen Wilson.”

      I raise up my hand, “Scout’s honor.”

       “What are you working on anyway?”  He asks as he puts the DVD in the player.

       “My Maid of Honor speech.”

      He sits next to me on the couch and looks at my notebook.  “I thought you wrote this a month ago.”

       “I wrote the speech that Carla approved of a month ago.”  I tap the pen to the notebook, “This is my real speech.”

       “That’s kind of evil, Reynolds.”

      I start to argue with him but he starts the movie before I can get a word in.  This isn’t evil of me.  Who wants to hear what they’ve already read, edited, and approved?  Carla knows how every part of this wedding is going to go; she needs some surprises, dammit.  This is me helping, and there’s nothing evil about that.

      And I really do think what I wrote down is nice and touching and will make Carla not want to hurt me for using something other than what she approved of.  I mean, how is this evil:

I’ve known Carla pretty much all her life.  We’ve done everything together.  When we were eight, I remember we planned our dream weddings.  And, in fourteen years, Carla’s wedding plans haven’t changed much.  The only difference is that she’s not marrying Devon Sawa.  She’s marrying someone even better.  When we were eighteen, Carla had her first date with Evan and, like that (
snap fingers for emphasis)
, Carla knew that he was the one for her.  I immediately remembered those wedding plans of hers.  I had really hoped that the Maid of Honor dress would have changed but, you know what, I am so glad to be wearing this today because it means that my best friend is the happiest that she’s ever been.  And I wish that she and Evan share that happiness for the rest of their lives. 
(raise glass now) 
Here’s to Mr. and Mrs. Evan Winters!”

      I shove the notebook into Riley’s hands.  “Read that; it’s not evil.  It’s beautiful.”

      He rolls his eyes, but reads what I have written down.

       “It’s good.  But, what’s this word?”

      I lean in to see what word he’s talking about but, before I can tell him that the word is clearly legible and says ‘glad’, he comments, “Your hair smells like raspberries.”

       “That’s not at all creepy, Riley.”  I smile, looking in his eyes.  Since when has his eyes been
that
green and
that
bright?  “It’s my raspberry shampoo.”  I mutter, turning away from his eyes.  Seriously, they’ve never been
that
green or
that
captivating before.

       “It smells good.”  He says, focusing back to the movie.

       “Thanks.”  I reply.  I start to watch the movie but I can’t.  “What’s with you?”

       “Nothing.”  He doesn’t even take his eyes off the screen.

       “I want to know why you’re acting so different.”

      He shifts around on the couch as he talks, “I’m not acting different.”

       “Yes, you are.”

       “No, I’m not.”

       “Yes,” I state.  “You are.”

      He looks at me for just a second before his eyes get this evil little twinkle in them.  I know that look. 

      Before I can brace myself, he has me in a headlock and we’re tumbling to the floor.  After a few minutes of me fighting to no avail, he has pinned me to the floor, my arms are above my head, secured there by his hands, and he’s draped over me.

      We’re both laughing when we make full-on eye contact.  This isn’t normal.  Our laughter dies out and we’re just staring into each other’s eyes and I don’t know what to do next because I can’t stay like this forever but I don’t want to get up.

       “Jess, I. . .”  Riley starts to say but he’s interrupted by a cough coming from the door frame.  We both look at the door to see Carla standing there, her arms crossed and glaring at us.  From her curled hair and her angry face full of tears to her navy stilettos with the pointy toes that match her dress perfectly, she looks like a force to be reckoned with.

       “I really thought that you two had grown out of this phase.”  She watches us as we get up, both muttering under our breath.

       “We’re just full of surprises.”  Riley growls at Carla and goes into the kitchen, not even acknowledging the fact that his baby sister has been crying.  What a jerk.

       “Carla, what’s wrong?”  I ask, sitting on the couch and closing my notebook with the speech all in one quick movement.  “I thought that you and Evan were going out to eat with his parents.”

      She sits next to me on the couch and sighs, “We were.  But then he opened his big mouth and told his parents something that I had told him in confidence and they canceled dinner plans.  And now,” her tears start, “they’re not coming to the wedding!”  Carla puts her head on my shoulder and continues to cry.

       “What did he tell them to make them not come to the wedding?  Is it about his dad’s toupee looking like a dead raccoon?  Or the fact that his mom’s had more plastic surgery done than Joan Rivers?”

       “I wish!”  Carla bellows.

      Riley comes back into the living room with a handful of paper towels in his hand.  He sits on the other side of Carla, who yanks the paper towels away from him.  So, that was why he went into the kitchen.  I take back calling him a jerk.

      Carla blows her nose.  “It was just something that I wasn’t prepared for everyone to know just yet.”

      Riley is staring at his sister, “Are you okay, Carla?”
      Carla takes one look at him and starts crying even harder.  Riley looks over her to give me a raised eyebrow.  I just shrug.

       “Carla, whatever it is, you know that Evan’s parents love you.  You guys had been dating for six months and his parents were already naming your and Evan’s kids. . .”  I stop, my eyes wide.  Carla only nods and cries more.

       “When did you find out?”

       “Two days ago.”

       “Are you sure?”

      Carla smiles a little, “Definitely.  Seven tests don’t lie.”

      Riley looks at me, then Carla, then back at me and, in a very calm voice, asks, “Would somebody please tell me what in the hell is going on?”

      Carla turns to Riley and takes a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

      It’s odd to see Riley at a loss for words.  It’s a completely serious conversation but I can’t help but smile at his expression.  His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are wide.  He manages to compose himself enough to ask, “Are you happy?”

      She nods, not crying so much now, “Of course I’m happy.”  She rubs her stomach, “I just wish Evan’s parents were as happy as Evan and I are about little Evan Junior.”

      I shake my head, “No, Carla, you can’t call the kid Junior.  That’s just mean.”

      She laughs at me, “Are you happy for me?”

      I nod and hug her, “Of course I’m happy for you.”

      Riley is still having trouble getting out words but he’s able to spit out, “Does Mom know?”

       “Not yet.  Evan and I wanted to wait until after the honeymoon and say that I got pregnant then, but his stupid big mouth ruined that lie.”

      I snort.  Yeah, Evan has a big mouth all right.  The guy’s who has spoken forty-seven words to me and Riley combined over the past few years has a big mouth?  Clearly, pregnancy has made Carla delusional.

      I wonder if she and Evan are going to make me the godmother.  Do godmothers have to be married to have a godchild or can they raise the godchild in a single godparent home?  I’ll have to Google this later.  And while I’m at it, I will also look up some sites with baby names better than ‘Evan Junior’.

      Carla’s cell phone rings and she excuses herself into the other room, taking the wad of paper towels with her.

      Riley scoots closer to me and talks in a low voice, “She’s pregnant.”

      I snort, “You don’t miss a thing, do you Captain Obvious?”  He gives me the finger.  “Are you okay with her being pregnant?”

      He shrugs, “Yeah, of course.  If she’s happy and if Evan’s happy, then I should be happy too.  But. . . she’s pregnant.”

      I have to giggle.  Baffled Riley is my favorite Riley.

      Carla walks back in the living room, the paper towels nowhere to be seen.  She stands in front of me and Riley and takes a deep breath.  “That was Evan.  He talked to his parents.  I don’t know what he told them but we’re still on for dinner.”

       “That’s great, Sis.”  Riley stands up and hugs her.  “And I really am happy for you.”

       “Thanks Riley.”  She lets go of him and rushes over to me, enveloping me in a hug, “Jess, I’m going to be a mom.”

       “You’re going to be a great one.”

      Oh my God.  Carla is going to be a mom.

Nine

Tuesday, June 30
^th

      I don’t know how much more I can take.  The Best Man is gay, the bride is pregnant, and I’m not allowed to tell anyone.

      Except that I’ve told Annie and the barista boy at Starbucks about Matt and Carla.  Oh, and the woman behind me in line at Starbucks probably overheard.

      I can’t help it.  This is a lot to carry.  Especially for someone like me who can’t keep her mouth shut for the life of her.

      And now I’m back at Mom’s dress shop getting refitted in my Maid of Honor dress.

      Although the dress does look a little better this time around.  While it’s still totally stuck in the Southern theme that Carla insists upon
(except for her own dress, of course, which is this great Vera Wang number that my mom gave her a huge discount on)
, the dress has been modernized a tad so as not to startle anyone into thinking that the South has risen again.  The once-capped sleeves have been reduced to spaghetti straps and I’m pretty sure that a layer of gauze has vanished.  But I think the hoop skirt has managed to become even wider.

       “Did you ever manage to get a date for the wedding, Jess?”  Mom asks while keeping a needle wedged between her teeth.

       “No, I don’t want to force a guy to sit through that.”  I say through clenched teeth as I feel the slaughter of my self-esteem on the horizon.

       “Well, what about a boy that’s already going to the wedding?  One of Evan’s friends maybe?  Carla was saying that the Best Man is really cute.”

       “He is, but he and I have a. . . conflict of interests.”  The conflict being that I like boys and so does Matt.  He’s competition.  And good competition at that.  He’s way more attractive than me.