I Do (6 page)

Finally she nods, and I feel like I've won a huge victory. “Really?” I ask. “Are you telling the truth, or just trying to get me to lay off? Can you see it?”

“I can see it.”

“Okay,” Now I let go of her shirt and stand facing the mirror, staring directly into her eyes. “This is the deal, Jenny. I will not room with you if you're going to do this to yourself. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I love you, and I'd like to help you. But I cannot stand to watch you starving yourself. Do you understand?”

She nods again.

“So if this is what you're going to do to yourself, well, you might as well pack it all up tonight and get a new roommate tomorrow.”

Now she starts crying even harder, and I feel like maybe I've stepped over the line. But it's the truth. I don't think I can handle this. I don't even think that God wants me to.

“Do you understand what I'm saying, Jenny?”

She nods, then turns around and gets back into her bed.

I sit back down beside her. “Do you want to keep being roommates?”

“Not if you don't want me.”

“I didn't say that, Jenny.
I said
I can't handle sharing a room with an anorexic. If you can stop this thing now, I want you to stay. Can you stop it?”

“I don't know…”

“I don't know isn't an answer.”

“You know I don't want to be like this.”

“Then you're willing to stop it?”

Jenny sits up and slowly nods. “I
do
want to stop it.”

“And are you willing to get help? I'm sure there's someone in the counseling center who knows about this.”

“Yeah. I picked up a flyer last week; I even put it in my purse.”

“So, are you willing to go and talk to them?”

“I guess.”

“That's not good enough, Jenny. Will you make an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“And I'll help you if I can.”

“Really?” She sounds skeptical.

“Yeah, but you have to do your part. I can't help you if you can't help yourself.” Now I stop to think about this seriously. What exactly am I taking on here? I mean, this is already looking to be a jam-packed year with my double major and wedding plans. Can I really handle this thing with Jenny too?

“Look,” I finally say. “I have an idea. But it will only work if we both agree to it and really commit.”

“What's your idea?”

“Well, I'd really like to lose some of this weight before the wedding. I mean, I certainly don't plan to obsess over it, but it's something I want to do. How about if we get a scale in here? And we both do a weigh-in every night. Would you be willing?”

“Okay.”

“The thing is, you have to be gaining weight. And over a fair amount of time, I need to be losing. We'll eat breakfast and dinner together, you can encourage me
to eat less, and I can encourage you to eat more. Do you think that would work?”

“You want me to teach you to be anorexic?” I can tell by the gleam in her eyes that she's kidding.

“Don't even go there,” I warm her.

“Sorry.”

“So, are you in agreement with this?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Jenny, I need more than ‘I think I am’ from you. Either you are or you aren't.”

“I am.”

So we shake hands, and I remind her that if she flakes out on me, she'll have to move out immediately. Then I watch from where I'm doing my homework as she slowly spoons down nearly half a bowl of soup. I consider complimenting her on this accomplishment but decide that some of this will have to come from her.

Later on after I turn out the light and get into bed, Jenny asks if I'm asleep.

“Not quite.”

“Well, I just wanted to say thanks.”

“It's okay,” I tell her.

“No, I really appreciate it. You're a true friend.”

“Yeah. And so are you.”

“And I promise not to tell anyone how bad you looked in your underwear tonight.”

Then I throw my pillow at her, and we both end up laughing.

But before I drift to sleep, I pray for Jenny.

Okay, just when I think
I have a weekend to kick back and relax (since Josh isn't coming), I get a phone call first thing this morning-it's his mother.

“Hi, Caitlin,” she says in a chirpy voice. “I hope I didn't wake you.”

I glance at the clock to see that it's nearly nine. “No, I was just getting up.” okay, it's a lie. But how do you admit to your perfect mother-in-law to be that you're a lazy bum?

“Well, I was thinking that since Josh is still doing that workathon thing with the kids, perhaps this is a good day for you and me to do something. Did you have plans, dear?”

“No, not really.”

“Oh, good. I'll leave right away and get there before noon. We can run into the city, look at some bridal gowns, and then have lunch.”

“I-uh-is my mother coming?” I ask uncertainly. I mean, I know it would hurt my mom's feelings if I actually found the perfect dress with Josh's mom. But how do I tell her this?

“No, dear, I thought it would be nice to spend this time getting acquainted with you. Is that all right?”

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Then I hang up and feel like a hypocrite.

“Who was that?” Jenny asks me sleepily.

“Josh's mom.”

Jenny laughs.

“Why is that so funny?”

“Oh, just that she is so much like my mom. I guess I feel a little sorry for you.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“But at least your parents aren't like that.”

“That's true, but you should see how exciting it gets when Josh's mom and my mom are talking about wedding decisions. I mean, my mom thinks that things like homemade crepe-paper flowers would look cute on the chairs that line the aisle, and naturally Joy wouldn't settle for anything less than hothouse roses and silk ribbons that were hand dyed in France. Honestly, she actually marked a page in a brides' magazine showing this. No way did I show that to my mom.”

Jenny laughs even louder now. “So what does Josh's mom want with you today?”

“To look at bridal gowns.”

“Oh, fun. Wish I could come.”

I consider this. Having Jenny along could prove a good buffer, and besides, she has excellent taste. “Why don't you?” I say suddenly.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I'd love to have you along.”

“But would Mrs. Miller mind?”

“Maybe. But-” I stand dramatically now-“this isn't about her,” I say in an affected voice. “It's about me. It's all about me.”

Jenny throws a dirty sock in my face, and we both laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” I add. “If you're going to come, you have to eat a big breakfast. I don't want you fainting on me.”

“It's a deal,” she says. And then down in the dining room, she actually does a decent job of putting away a bowl of Cheerios with banana slices on top. And feeling encouraged by this, I decide to bring up what I've been thinking about for the past couple of weeks. I glance around to see that the room is nearly empty. Probably due to the fact that the rest of the girls in the dorm didn't get a wake-up call from their fiancé's mother this morning.

“I've been meaning to ask you something,” I say as I pour myself another cup of coffee and sit back down.

“What?”

“Would you be a bridesmaid in my wedding?”

Jenny looks surprised. “Of course. I'd love to, Cate. Are you serious?”

“Yes, I want you there with me.”

“Who else are you having?”

“So far it's just Beanie and Josh's sister, Chloe.”

“Are you going to have more?”

“I'm not sure. In some ways it might be nice to keep it small.”

“Three's a nice number.”

“That's what I thought.” Of course, I don't mention that three sounds a little less expensive than, say, six.

“Have you decided yet on colors or anything?” she asks as she gets more hot water for her tea.

“I have some ideas. I was thinking since it's in June, maybe something in a pastel. Maybe pink or yellow or blue. Although I feel bad picking a color that you guys might not like. Pink satin probably isn't something you could ever wear again, and I've read how they're designing bridesmaid dresses that can be worn more than once.”

“That's a big myth.” Jenny rolls her eyes. “I've been in three weddings so far, and despite all that bunk about reusing the dresses, I know I'll never wear a single one of them again.” She dips her tea bag and seems to consider this. “In fact, if I were you, I'd just choose dresses that are classy but not too expensive. Then go for really good shoes.”

“I like the classy but not expensive idea,” I tell her.

“And don't forget that bridesmaids cover their own clothing expenses.”

“I know. But it seems unfair.”

“Hey, it's the price you pay for being popular.”

By the time Joy gets to the dorm, Jenny has already
given me lots of ideas. For one thing, she reminds me that all of my bridesmaids, so far, are brunettes. “You'll be like the fair maiden,” she says. “The golden princess.”

“But I should try to pick out a color that will look good on brunettes,” I'm telling her as Josh's mom pulls up in her BMW.

I open the passenger door. “Do you mind if Jenny comes along?”

Joy smiles, but I can't tell if it's sincere or not. “Jenny Lambert, is that you?”

“It is indeed,” says Jenny.

“The more the merrier,” Joy says as she waits for us to get in.

“Jenny has such good taste,” I say quickly. “And she's going to be a bridesmaid.”

“Oh, good,” says Joy. “Maybe she'll find something that will work for the bridesmaids today.”

Suddenly I feel like betrayer times two. Not only have I left my mother out of this loop, but Beanie as well. And Beanie, of all people, is the real fashion expert. But here's the truth, and it's hard to admit-but Beanie's taste is just a little too extreme for me sometimes. I mean, she certainly has dramatic flair and a real sense of style and all that. But sometimes her suggestions feel more Beanie than Caitlin. And this is
my
wedding, and I want it to feel like it reflects who I am. Still, Beanie did come through on helping Josh pick out the perfect ring. Maybe I should give her a chance. Even so, there's nothing to be done about it today.

We go to a few shops before lunch, but I can tell that Jenny is getting tired. I suggest we take a break. “My head is starting to spin. If I see another wedding dress, I might faint.”

Joy picks a restaurant in the mall, and after we're seated, Jenny points out a pasta dish that looks good to me.

“Oh, look,” says Joy. “They have a low-carb section.”

“Are you doing that diet?” asks Jenny.

Joy smiles. “Yes. I'm trying to shed a few pounds before the wedding.”

I toss Jenny a glance, as if to warn her to stick with the pasta. “Well, Jenny doesn't
need
to lose any weight.”

Joy nods. “I don't know how you do it, Jenny. Always just as thin as a supermodel.”

I know Joy means this as a compliment, but it makes me want to throw something. Instead I say, “Jenny's lucky that way. She must have a really high metabolism, because she can put away that pasta and still look great.” Of course, Jenny gives me a little kick under the table. “On the other hand, I'm trying to lose some weight. Maybe I should look into the low-carb diet.”

“That's a great idea, Caitlin.” Joy points to some kind of salad. “Maybe you should try this.”

And so I don't argue with her, and feeling like I'm about seven years old, I actually let her order what turns out to be little more than a side salad for me. Okay, I fully realize that I've totally wimped out, but maybe it's worth it to keep everyone happy. And thankfully,
Jenny orders the pasta. But after I polish off my salad and resist the bread, since Joy says it's full of carbs, I now find myself longing for some of Jenny's creamy-looking pasta. And believe me, nothing spoils a lunch quicker than food lust. But I try to control my feelings and am relieved that the conversation flows pleasantly. Mostly due to Jenny.

I feel slightly surprised at how easily Jenny converses with Joy. It's as if they're old friends. And while I know that Jenny and Josh dated for a while, I don't see how she and Josh's mom could've gotten this well acquainted, but it seems they did. Then I remember what Jenny said about Joy being just like her own mother. Of course, Jenny is used to this sort of thing. And really, I should be thankful. It allows me to relax a bit and even daydream.

“I think Vera Wang is the best,” says Joy and Jenny nods.

“Or Bill Levkoff,” adds Jenny. “He's very classic and more affordable.”

“Yes, but if money were no object, I think a Wang would be perfect for Caitlin.”

“I hear there are some good imitations that look exactly like the real thing,” says Jenny. “But you have to know who to go through.”

“A Vera Wang knockoff?” Joy seems to be considering this.

“Or a Levkoff knockoff,” says Jenny, which makes them both laugh. And suddenly I wonder what on earth
they're talking about. It's as if they're speaking another language-maybe wedding-ese.

Because we knew we'd be trying on dresses, Jenny made sure that we both wore outfits that would come off and on easily, as well as high-heeled shoes. But by midafternoon, my feet are killing me, and I am so done with this little shopping excursion. But unfortunately for me, Jenny has gotten her second wind (must be that pasta), and Joy seems unstoppable.

“How about this one?” Joy says as she holds up a satin number that doesn't look any different from at least a dozen others I've already tried on today. However, I know what will happen if I mention this fact. Both Joy and Jenny will point out the subtle details and differences in the cut or the skirt width or the train or the bodice or the whatever. Big deal. They all look like a bunch of long white satin dresses to me.

And I know that I'll be seeing these same dresses in my dreams tonight. It's all I can see when I close my eyes now. I'm sure I'll be haunted by white satin for days, maybe weeks, to come. Even so, I give in to peer pressure and go into the dressing room to try on the dress. Once again, and despite my mother's earlier reservations, this is another strapless number. And here's what's weird: Either these two are wearing me down, or I'm actually beginning to like this style.