The Less Than Perfect Wedding (7 page)

A few minutes into our conversation, Alex emerged from the kitchen, munching on half of a bagel with cream cheese. When he saw the wide array of wedding-related materials spread out on the table, however, he beat a hasty retreat out of the room, managing to spit out a few words about "doing some work in the bedroom." I suspected that he was more likely to put in headphones and play one of his video games, but I let him go.

Forty-five minutes later, my mood had pulled a complete one eighty. Sally might be as timid and easily bullied by my mother as a mouse, but she certainly knew her stuff; she had a selection of different venues picked out, and was able to clearly explain the benefits and downsides of each style of wedding that we could plan out.

"So, now it's your turn," Sally said at length, after we had examined the various styles that she had laid out from her binder. "What sort of wedding do you want? What are you envisioning?"

I looked down at the different pictures, photos, and wedding magazine clippings spread out across the table. "Well, I've always wanted a summer wedding," I mused, my eyes temporarily losing focus as I tried to imagine how I had pictured the happiest day of my life. "And I always thought that it would be nice to have a more formal affair, in a big church with flowers and a reception at a hotel ballroom and everything."

Her small hands moving rapidly, Sally shuffled through her stacks of pictures, pulling out a few and spreading them out in front of me for me to observe. "How about these ones?" she asked.

I looked over the photographs. After a few minutes' observation, I picked out one of them, holding it up to Sally. "Wait a minute!" I said. "I recognize this one! This is my family's old church!"

She took the picture from me, nodding smartly. "Excellent," she said approvingly. "In fact, I know this one, Sacred Father - and I know that it has an open booking weekend. And between proximity to downtown hotels and my calls, I believe that it would be all but perfect for what you have in mind." I was nodding, but Sally had a little more to add: "There is one issue, though."

"Issue?" I repeated. "What issue?"

"Well, this was actually one of the places on your mother's short list - I guess that she remembered it fondly," Sally commented. "So I've been in contact with them. Unfortunately, they only have one weekend open in the next year or so - you'd either have to take this slot, and take it right away, or find another location."

"Only one open weekend? When?"

Sally flipped the picture over and ran her finger down the lines of neat writing on the back of the card. "At the end of July," she said. "And that spot will be gone soon."

I reached out, taking the photo back from Sally and staring at it. "Give me a moment," I said apologetically to Sally, who nodded as I dashed out of the room, still holding the picture.

Sliding around on the hardwood floors in my socks, I skidded into our bedroom. Alex glanced up from his seat on our bed, his laptop perched on his lap. His hands slid from the number pad and mouse pad over to the rest of the keyboard, and he looked up at me with guilt clearly splashed all over his face. "Hey, honey," he stammered. "Um, I was just taking a quick break-"

"Last weekend in July," I cut in. "You, me, this church, marriage. You in?"

Alex's eyes were wide - he clearly wasn't expecting this, but he bought himself a couple of seconds by taking the photograph and looking it over. "I, um, I don't think that I have any conflicts with the end of July," he managed to get out. "But isn't July a little soon?"

"It is," I agreed, "but this might be our only shot. And I really like this place! Should we go for it?"

After one last glance at the picture, Alex looked up at me. "Okay," he said at length. "Let's do it."

I let out a slight squeal of glee. "Yes! Thank you, thank you thank you thank you!" Leaning forward, I wrapped my arms around my bemused fiance, his computer sliding off his lap onto the bedspread. After I planted a kiss on his cheek, I snatched the photograph back from Alex's hands and dashed back out of the bedroom, around the corner and into the dining room.

"Yes," I told Sally, my eyes shining with excitement. "End of July. Sacred Father Church. Let's plan it!"

Sally also jumped up from her seat, giving me a quick, excited hug as I jumped up and down. "Wonderful!" she enthused. "Let's start planning! And you'd better start thinking about bridesmaids!"

I sat down at the table with Sally, and we started looking through the large stack of pictures of flowers, centerpieces, invitations, and other wedding-related paraphernalia. As I took a seat, one last, oddly foreboding thought popped into my head. "No turning back now..."

Rick & Blossom's Visit

*

The day after Sally's visit, I woke up feeling happy. My wedding plans were in motion! Even lying in bed, warm in my blankets and with the comforting weight of Alex still asleep next to me, I was looking forward to a productive day. A day, I felt, that could just as easily be started in another half hour. I closed my eyes, snuggling into my pillow and pressing up against the sleeping form of my fiance.

A minute later, however, I heard the jarring, pestering buzzing noise of my phone, ringing on the bedside table beside me. I tried to ignore it, but I knew that it was hopeless by the tenth ring. I pulled myself groggily up on my elbows and reached out for the phone, trying to keep as much of myself as possible tucked beneath the comforting warmth of the sheets.

My questing fingertips managed to finally grab the edge of my phone, and I pulled it into my little cocoon. "Hello?" I said, my voice hoarse.

"Danielle, dear, is that you?" At the sound of the voice on the other end, I immediately sat bolt upright, any trace of sleep immediately purging itself from my system. I hadn't heard that voice since Christmas.

"Dad?" I said, pulling the blankets up around myself to cover my now-upright form. Beside me, Alex stirred slightly as I tugged on the sheets that were tucked beneath his arm. "Why are you calling me?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be in town today," my father informed me. "Are you and Alex going to be free? We would love to find time to sit down, maybe for lunch."

"Yeah, sure," I said, trying to get my thoughts together. I reached over and shook Alex's shoulder, but he merely murmured something about "pizza pockets" and turned over in his sleep.

"Great, great," my father replied. Strangely, he did not sound very appeased by this. "How about we meet you in a couple hours at that cafe by the mall, where we met up last time we had brunch together?"

It took me a minute to remember which place my father was talking about. The image of a rather shabby diner swam shakily into my memory. "Yes, we can meet you there," I agreed, mainly so that I could get my father off the line and go back to sleep.

"Great," my dad said again. "We will see you there soon."

As the click of my father hanging up rang in my ear, I suddenly realized what had been bothering me about his request. "Wait a minute," I said. "We? What do you mean, 'we'?" But it was too late - my father had already severed the connection.

As I set the phone back on my bedside table, I raised one elbow, slamming it into the side of my lazy fiance. "Ugh," he groaned as I poked him viciously. "Honey, what are you doing?"

"Waking you up," I told him, not bothering to disguise the grumpiness in my voice. "We're going to go and meet my father this morning for brunch, apparently. He just called. Time to get up so we won't be late."

Alex groaned again. "Do we have to?"

I stood up, cringing slightly as my bare feet landed on the frigid wooden floor. "He's going to be your father-in-law pretty soon," I commented, grabbing my bathrobe from its hook on the back of my bedroom door. I shrugged into the robe. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to get on his bad side."

*

When we got to the restaurant, we walked in. At the front of the diner, the teenage hostess standing behind the faux-wooden counter started to greet us, but behind her, I could see my father, half-standing as he leaned out of the booth and waved at us.

As we made our way through the narrow spaces between tables towards the booth, however, I was able to see that my father was not alone in the booth. Sitting on the inside beside him was a woman, wearing some sort of fuzzy jacket over an unevenly dyed, multi-colored tee shirt. Her reddish hair was forward, obscuring her face in a messy tangle. She appeared to be poring over some sort of menu, doing something with her hand.

"Do you recognize that woman?" Alex whispered to me as we approached the table.

I shook my head. I had never seen this woman before in my life. However, as my father sank back into the booth alongside her as we drew closer, I had a sneaking suspicion about who she might be.

Reaching the booth, we slid into the opposite bench, Alex taking the inner seat. I gave my dad a brief hug before moving in next to him. "Hi, Dad," I said. I turned my attention to the woman sitting next to him. "Who's this?"

At first, we all looked at the woman, waiting for her to introduce herself, or at least look up and realize that she had company at the table. However, she remained totally engrossed in her work. Peering a little closer, I realized that the woman was holding a bright orange crayon in her hand and was intently coloring in a children's paper menu. Through the shock of hair, I could see the tip of her tongue hanging out as she shaded in the mane of a lion.

"Um, Danielle, Alex, this is Blossom," my dad said, after a solid, uncomfortable minute of silence. "She really wanted to meet you and congratulate you on getting married."

Once again, we all turned to the woman, and watched as she set down the orange crayon, swapping it for the green one, which she began applying carefully to the grass around the lion's paws. Finally, my father tapped her with a finger, and she finally looked up. When she realized that two warm bodies were now sitting across from her, she jumped slightly, the crayon dropping from her fingertips.

"Oh! Hello!" Blossom said, reaching up and shoving her hair back out of her face. After she ran her hands through her bird's nest of hair, it stuck straight up like the world's worst mohawk.

She extended one hand towards us; I was the first to take it, but she didn't tighten her grip, her fingers sitting limply on my palm. After a few uncomfortable seconds of me holding onto her fingers, feeling like a fool, I released my hold. She then slid the hand over to Alex, directly across from her, who made the smarter choice of politely ignoring the invitation.

Before the moment of awkward silence could continue much longer, we were fortunately interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, who laconically jotted down our order. My fiance and I both ordered the continental breakfast, while my dad requested a BLT with extra bacon. When she got around to Blossom, the woman gazed happily up at the waitress for a moment, her mouth slowly opening and closing.

"Do you... do you have any pancakes?" Blossom finally said, smiling up at the lady.

The waitress sneered down at us. "No, darlin'," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Diners like this don't serve pancakes."

"Oh, okay then. I'll have those." I couldn't tell whether Blossom was ignoring the sarcasm, or if she just wasn't even listening to what the waitress was saying. In any case, the woman blinked a couple times in confusion, but eventually jotted something down on her pad and wandered off.

"Anyway," my dad chimed in, trying fervently to pick up the thread of the conversation once again, "we wanted to congratulate the two of you on getting married-"

"Marriage?" Blossom suddenly spoke up. "Are we getting married?"

We all looked at Blossom. She peered back at us, eyes wide but innocent. "Not us, dear," my father finally said, patting her on the shoulder. She smiled, nodded, and resumed her coloring again.

"-we wanted to congratulate you on getting married," my dad resumed, "but we're a little concerned about the finances."

Alex and I glanced at each other. "What about the finances?" I asked. "Isn't Mom paying for things?" As Sally had told me, my mom had been the one writing all of the checks for the wedding reservations.

My father looked nonplussed for an instant, but his face suddenly tightened in anger. "That witch!" he cursed, slamming his hand down sharply on the table and making the rest of us jump.