Tales From the Crib (17 page)

“Susan doesn’t wear six-thousand-dollar dresses, darling,” was her retort. I heard a cough echo from behind the altar. Surely a nun having a seizure over the price of Anjoli’s attire. “I’m not in competition with Susan. I have my style and she has Sears.”

“Gavalt,
this is a death march!” snapped Rita. “Who needs an aisle that goes on for two miles like this? Showy
goyim.”

“Why don’t you use your wheelchair?” Bernice asked.

“Because I’m not a cripple!” Rita shouted, creating another echo.

“Have it your way,” Bernice said, scanning the cathedral. “I was at the loveliest funeral here last summah.” Bernice floated into her memory. “Flowers forever, and what a eulogy! It was the best funeral all season.”

“Oy, thumbs up from the Rogah Ebert of death ovah here,” Rita said. “We’re early, aren’t we,
mamaleh?”
she asked Anjoli. Without waiting for a response, “I told you we were early, Bernice. She insisted it started at four, even though the invitation says foive.”

“Better early than late,” Bernice shrugged.

“Better on time and not sitting around in a church for an awah,” Rita snapped.

As they slipped into a middle pew, I offered to bring my aunts water before I went to help Kimmy get into her dress.

“I’m starving. How ‘bout getting me a few of those Jesus wafers?” Rita asked.

“Rita!” Bernice chided. “Those are special to Catholics. It’s not a snack food.”

“It was a joke! I was being funny. No sense of humor.”

“Not a bad idea, though, Rita,” Anjoli piped in. “It’s one of the few things I miss about being Catholic—taking the Holy Eucharist. They’re so light.”

Holy Communion Snack Chips by Nabisco. Not just for Mass anymore! Now in low carb, so His body won’t go to yours.

“Mother, we need to get Kimmy into her dress,” I reminded her as I went to get water for my aunts. “Two minute warning.”

A nun told me I couldn’t bring food or drinks into the chapel, but when she caught a glimpse of my aunts in their fragile, elderly state, she made an exception.

As soon as my mother and I entered the bridal dressing room, it was clear that something was very wrong with Kimmy. She wrapped her arms around her folded legs and wore a sick expression as a woman did her hair. Kimmy’s makeup was Cover Girl perfect, but her face looked like it could be featured in a special section on anxiety disorders in
Psychology Today.
“Don’t you look like the most fabulous bride ever?” Anjoli said as she swept in to kiss Kimmy. Other than the look of horror on her face, she really did.

“What’s the matter, Kimmy? “ I asked. Anjoli shot me a look urging me to cease and desist with this line of questioning.

“Kimmy has the wedding day jitters, darling. It’s perfectly normal. In fact, it’s an extremely healthy form of stress release.” Kimmy was silent for the next thirty minutes as her hair was twisted and pinned to the top of her head.

“Kimmy,” I waved my hands in front of her glazed eyes. “What’s going on? Did you take a tranquilizer or something?” I remembered during our teen years, Kimmy could never get to sleep without serious pharmaceutical assistance. A few years later, she couldn’t do much without some sort of chemical regulation.

“No,” she said flatly. I couldn’t read anything into her expressions.

“You look perfect!” her hairdresser said as she pinned the final tendril to the top of Kimmy’s head. She shot up in her white lace bra and panty set and snapped, “I do
not
look perfect!” This was the sort of high drama you hear about models in gossip magazines. It was so unlike Kimmy to say anything negative, much less rude. This wedding brought out the worst in her. Then I got it.

“Kimmy, you do look perfect. Is the problem your hair, or the wedding?” I asked.

“Lucy, what kind of thing is that to ask ten minutes before Kimmy and I are walking down the aisle?! Give her a little credit, darling. Certainly, Kimmy’s given this marriage a great deal of deliberation, which is why she’s—”

“Lucy’s right, Auntie!” Kimmy collapsed into her chair. “My hair is fine,” she turned to the hairdresser to apologize. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. The hairstyle is lovely. It’s
him.”
She pointed her finger straight out.
Adam? Oh, she meant Geoff.
“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I know you spent a lot on the wedding and your dress and everything, but I can’t do this.”

“Why not, darling?!” Anjoli exclaimed.

“Because the thought of being Geoff’s wife makes me want to totally barf,” Kimmy sobbed. Maybe it was just Anjoli clinging to her chest in shock, but it sure looked as though she were shielding it from Kimmy’s threatened sickness. I’ll give Anjoli credit for this. When she’s on your side, she can spin anything so you feel as though everything—no matter how disastrous—is part of some spiritual growth process.

“This is a breakthrough for you, Kimmy!” Anjoli said. “You’ve always been such a people-pleaser. For you to disregard the feelings of your fiancé and disappoint the three hundred guests who came to see a royal wedding is monumental. Finally, you’re putting your own needs a head of others—and on such a grand scale too. This is worth five years in therapy!”

“You’re not angry?” Kimmy looked up from her lace handkerchief.

“Angry?!” Anjoli waved her hand. “I’ve never been more proud, darling.”

They hugged and Adam’s hands reached up to my mouth. “I hate to interject reality here, but someone’s got to tell Geoff and his three hundred closest friends that he’s being jilted. The wedding was supposed to start ten minutes ago.”

Kimmy looked at Anjoli, who suggested I’d be the perfect person for the job. “Why me?”

“You’re the matron of honor, darling. This is part of your duties.”

“Really? Is there a designated person to announce jiltings?”

Anjoli looked impatiently at me. “It can’t be Kimmy!” she said. “If she goes to the chapel, the organ will start playing and everyone will think she’s there to
marry
him.”

“Imagine that!” I laughed. “It’s not like they weren’t sent engraved invitations to a wedding.”

“You’re angry with me, Lucy. I can tell,” Kimmy said. “I’m sorry, but he’s such a creep. You don’t want me to marry a creep, do you?”

“I don’t want to be the one to break up with him,” I whined.

“Stop being so selfish!” Anjoli said. “Kimmy needs our help. This is her special day!”

“Mother, you just applauded Kimmy for being selfish! And I’m sorry, is it still your special day if you jilt the groom?!”

“I’m going to climb out the window and I don’t care who tells him!” Kimmy stomped her ivory shoe.

“Kimmy, there’s no window here. You’d have to go into the chapel, throw a rock through the stained glass, and climb out that way.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do!”

My mother shot me a look begging me to deescalate this situation. I just needed my sixty seconds of selfishness before I would concede to being the bearer of bad news. “Kimmy, stop for a second and think about how utterly ridiculous that would be. Just put some clothes on and Anjoli will walk you out the front door. I’ll tell the guests.”

“Can you tell Edward that I’ll meet him back at the apartment?” Anjoli asked.

“You brought a date?” I shrieked. “Adam’s pediatrician?!” She shrugged as if to ask why not. “He’s married. It’s a wedding. Do you
not
see the irony?” I threw my hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll tell him. Any message for Geoff, Kimmy? “

“Tell him this is for the best,” Kimmy said as she and my mother finally unpinned her veil from her head. Kimmy slipped on her white pantsuit—appropriately enough, her getaway outfit—and slipped out the door with my mother.

It’s for the best,
I muttered silently. I’m sure he’ll find that deeply comforting.

As Adam and I reached the entrance to the chapel, all heads turned to us. I was dressed in a nursing t-shirt and jeans. People began to whisper. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Is everything okay?” Geoff asked as I finally reached him at the altar. This, of course, was the moment Adam decided to test the acoustics of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He screamed like I’d never heard before. Wailing mournful, horrible tears of utter horror. I tried to shout above my son’s crying, and just as I got to the part where I said, “It’s for the best,” Adam stopped. “Best, best, best” echoed throughout the chapel.

People turned their heads in every direction to murmur about what this might mean. But they knew. We all did. Adam began crying again, which was actually a relief because I had no idea what to say to Geoff, who was standing agape with a fresh corsage pinned to his tux. I caught Jack’s eye. He offered to take Adam, which I gladly accepted. Finally, when Adam stopped crying, I heard Aunt Bernice in a stage whisper say to Rita, “See, I told you that baby wasn’t deaf.”

“I’m sorry to announce that the wedding has been postponed indefinitely,” I said, avoiding eye contact with Geoff’s entire side of the chapel. “I know this is a shock, and on behalf of my family, I’d like to apologize for inconveniencing you all today. I hope you will all join me in supporting Kimmy in her decision. I know she feels terrible about everyone wasting their time here today, but I know you’d all feel even worse if Geoff and Kimmy
,
two very decent people, made the mistake of entering into a marriage they weren’t absolutely committed to.”

No one except Aunt Bernice looked terribly supportive. “That’s very true,” she said loud enough for others to join in agreement. But they did not. They all seemed very pissed off—at me. “Alrighty then, as a gesture of apology, my family extends invites to you and your guests at Marco’s, where the non-wedding reception will be this evening. The directions are on your invitation. And if you have any favorite Sinatra songs, the band will gladly take your requests, so um, enjoy!”

Chapter 21

Believe it or not, Geoff’s family took me up on the dinner invitation and insisted that Adam and I have dinner with the jilted groom. It wasn’t a friendly “let’s all be civilized about this” kind of thing. They wanted answers and since Kimmy and Anjoli had fled the crime scene, and Jack had a Valentine’s Day date with Natalie, I was stuck as the ambassador of the rogue nation. I knew Jack would have to leave the reception early with a prearranged excuse about an emergency at the gallery. What I didn’t expect was for him to be quite so excited about his early dismissal. I had hoped he might want to stick around and help me deal with Geoff’s lynch mob, but he had plans of dinner and champagne in Tribecca with Natalie.

“So where is the runaway bride, anyway?” Geoff’s sister Anne asked as the waiter placed our menus in our hands. He looked intrigued by the question and slowed his rounds to hear my reply.

“I’m not sure where they went,” I apologized.

“They?!”
Geoff’s mother snapped as she placed a protective hand on her son’s shoulder. “Is there another man involved?” Geoff said nothing as the women at the table took charge.

“No, I mean, I don’t think so. I just meant Kimmy and my mother,” I explained, imagining one hundred gay men at the apartment for an impromptu altar-jumping party. Alfie was playing piano, revamping the Billy Idol classic to a new and improved “It’s a Nice Day for a Non-Wedding.” Anjoli was toasting Kimmy’s extraordinary courage, and supermodels were sipping champagne from Kimmy’s satin shoes. Meanwhile I wondered how in the world I ended up at Marco’s with someone else’s family.

“I suppose what we’d like to know,” began Geoff’s mother as she sat erect in her chair with her hands folded like a school principal, “is why did Kimberly wait until the day of the wedding to cancel? It seems in terribly poor form.” Adam started making noises that were not cries, but more like nondescript moans that meant something to him. He seemed to be trying to add to the conversation. I bounced him to try to soothe him into silence, but he would not cooperate. Of course, he chose the moment when all eyes were on me to want to nurse.

“I’m not sure,” I stammered. Geoff’s mother frightened me. So did his elegant sister and their stern, silent father. Geoff was a sight to be pitied tonight, though under normal circumstances he would have fit right in with this country club family. “I guess she didn’t really understand, until she was right about to do it, that she really didn’t want to marry Geoff. I hope that doesn’t sound too harsh, but it appears to be the reality. I’m not sure. Geoff, you should call Kimmy and ask her yourself. I really can’t speak for her.”

“He’ll do no such thing!” blasted the booming baritone of his father. “Do not call that woman under any circumstances, do you understand me, Geoffrey?” I started to unsnap the flap of my dress to feed Adam when Geoff’s mother caught a glimpse.

“You’re
not
going to do that at the table, dear,” she said. It was not a question.

“Well
we’re
eating at the table. Where do you propose I feed my son ?”

“Forget about this!” Geoff snapped at his mother. “I want to know where Kimmy is. What did she say, Lucy? Where did she say she was going? I’m going to her.”

His father actually stood up from his seat as though he might physically prevent Geoff from trying to leave. “Sit down!” he insisted.
Um, sir, you’re the only one standing.
“Do not go groveling to that woman. She’s not going to make any more a fool of you than she already has, son. And you! Put your breast away and cease that nonsense immediately.”

Put my breast away?!
Now, let me be very clear about something. I may have had a little trouble breastfeeding at first, but after six weeks at it, I was a pro. I had bras and shirts that had more secret compartments and trick doors than the Bat Cave. I nursed so discreetly, most of the time, people had no idea I was breastfeeding. It simply looked as though my son was resting comfortably at my chest. Okay, there were times when he’d push off against my stomach to get a little extra pull of milk, but even then, no skin showed. I was pretty pleased to be such a skilled breast feeder, especially when my mother and aunts were not able to offer me any guidance whatsoever. So this “put your breast away” business pissed me off. I wondered if Geoff was like his father and if this is what she meant when Kimmy told the florist that her fiance was a control freak. Furthermore, I wondered what the hell I was doing at this dinner table with the jilted, mean family. They did not need me to console them. I couldn’t provide them with answers.