THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) (10 page)

The smell of fresh coffee wafted in the air. Blake was already up and out of bed, for sure in the kitchen. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was seven a.m. The phone rang again and I stretched my arm to reach for it. With half-closed eyes, I registered who was calling. It was my mom. Of course, I had told her to call me when they were about to take off. My parents would be here in two hours. In plenty of time for the rehearsal and dinner tonight. I’d wanted them to come out earlier in the week, but unfortunately, Dad couldn’t forego his final, much-needed therapy sessions—especially since he was bent on walking me down the aisle.

My mother’s teary-eyed voice sounded before I could even say hi. “Jennifer, honey, I have terrible news.”

My heart leapt into my throat and I bolted upright. An inner panic button went off. Had something happened to my father? “Is Dad okay?” I choked out.

“Honey, he’s fine. But our flight has been canceled.”

“Mom, what do you mean?” My words were rushed and pitchy.

“It’s blizzarding.”

“Oh my God. What about a later flight?”

“I’m not sure.” My mother’s voice wavered. “According to airport officials, the storm is expected to get worse.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and I could feel a knot in the pit of my stomach. How could this be happening? As a tear escaped, Blake, in just his pajama bottoms, strode into the room, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He caught a glimpse of me and rushed to my side.

“Jen, what’s the matter?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, handing me one of the mugs. It shook in my hand.

“Mom, hold on.” Setting the mug on the nightstand, I told Blake what was going on.

Tilting his head back, he huffed a breath. “Jeez. Just what we don’t need.” My eyes stayed riveted on him as he scooted across the mattress to retrieve his cell phone on the other night table.

“Blake, what are you doing?” I snapped, my nerves getting to me.

“I’m going to see if we can send my father’s private plane or the company jet to get them.”

Oh, my Blake!
I relayed this news to my mom as I listened intently with my other ear to the conversation Blake was having with someone who must be from the Conquest travel department. His eyebrows were knitted as he went back and forth with them.

“Fuck.” He flung the phone on the bed. My heart sunk deeper. I knew it was not good. His eyes met mine.

“Jen, they’re closing the airport. No planes are allowed to depart or land.”

Shit. It was even worse than I thought. With a lump in my throat, I shared the bad news with my mom. Tearfully, she told me she was going to ask Father Murphy, who was with them, to pray. As I was about to say good-bye, my dad got on the phone. Tears of my own were now streaming down my cheeks.

“Hi, Dad,” I sniffled as Blake massaged my shoulders.

“Jennifer Leigh McCoy, you stop crying right now. Your mother and I may not be there tonight for the rehearsal, but we will be there tomorrow for your wedding. I said I was going to walk my little girl down the aisle, and I never break my promises.”

No, he never had broken a promise in all my life. I wiped my eyes. With a final sniffle and an ounce of optimism, I told my darling dad I believed him and how much I loved him. My love for him, like for Blake, was immeasurable.

*

Blake went into the office for a few hours while I took the day off. I still had a million details to attend to, plus Enid had insisted I get my hair, nails, and makeup done for tonight’s events. And a facial. Soon after Blake departed, I canceled all my appointments. The day was gloomy—for the first time in a long time, gray and overcast. Mirroring exactly how I felt. Mom and Dad had gone back home, and all my googling made me feel worse. The blizzard could last up to twenty-four hours. And it was spreading across the Midwest. Despite my father’s promise, the reality that my parents might miss my wedding was eating away at me. And on top of all my worries, I felt like pure crap. More than just tension. Shooting pains stabbed my gut. I was beginning to worry if it was something beyond nerves and the onset of my period. Was I getting sick?

Blake returned mid afternoon. His sultry voice awoke me; I’d dozed off.

“Jen, it’s almost four o’clock. You should start getting ready.”

As I fluttered my eyes open and sat up, another one of those sharp pangs dug into me. Clutching my stomach and grimacing, I let out a soft moan, but not soft enough to be unnoticed by Blake. He dashed to my side.

“Are you okay, baby?” His voice was thick with concern.

“Blake, I think I might be coming down with something.” It was that time of year the flu was rampant. Many co-workers had come down with it, along with Blake’s college roommate, Jake, who was not going to make it to the rehearsal or wedding. Even though I’d had a flu shot, it didn’t make me immune.

“Are you sure?” My soon-to-be husband tenderly kissed my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

Well, that was good news. Maybe it
was
just nerves.

“C’mon. Let’s take a shower together and get ready.”

Maybe a shower was just what I needed.

Wrong. We fucked. I felt worse.

*

The rehearsal at Blake’s parents’ house started at six. I was wearing the stunning ivory dress Blake surprised me with in Paris along with my mother’s lovely cashmere birthday sweater while Blake was dressed in one of his sexy tapered dark suits. He looked dashing. I, to be honest, still looked—and felt—like crap. Even the makeup I’d applied, including the little extra blush and eye shadow, couldn’t camouflage my pallor or glazed eyes.

We got there a little early. Mayhem. Pure mayhem. That’s the only way to describe the scene. It was like a movie production. Except crazier and more chaotic. Workers were everywhere, and amidst them was a frazzled Enid, dressed to the nines, heels and all, shouting orders through a megaphone. Hundreds of white folding chairs were being set up in the Bernsteins’ vast backyard for tomorrow’s ceremony, and a giant tent was in the process of being erected for the reception.

“Goddammit. How hard is it to fill a bowl of water and stick a stupid fish in it?” Enid screamed into a walkie talkie. And then into her ringing cell phone, “What do you mean, you idiot? I asked for Beluga caviar, not Sevruga. Just deliver it, but after tomorrow, you’re fired.”

“Oh, hello Jennifer,” she said in a most condescending tone upon taking note of me. She snubbed Blake, who had his arm wrapped around me. I told her my parents wouldn’t be coming to the rehearsal because of a snowstorm.

She rolled her eyes and let out a haughty huff of air. And then she narrowed her eyes at Blake. “Seriously, Blake, this would have never happened if you’d married Katrina.”

Though she was a continent away, the mention of her name made my skin prickle. Blake held his own.

“
Seriously
, Enid, you need to get your head examined. You’re one sick bitch.”

Like mother like daughter
. Enid’s jaw dropped to the floor and stayed there while Blake ushered me away to mingle with our guests.

Seeing friends and family was a welcomed comfort.

Overlooking the backyard, the elegant, spacious veranda began to fill with all the wedding party participants—from the eight hired blond bimbo bridesmaids from Central Casting to those near and dear to us.

Blake’s sister Marcy, upon arriving, gave me a hug and then observed me in true doctorly fashion.

“Jennifer, are you all right? You look very pale.”

“Yes. Just a case of pre-wedding nerves,” I said as another gut-wrenching pang stabbed me. The good actress I was, I smiled through the pain. Perceptive Libby shot me a concerned look. Her sharp, analytical mind could cut through bullshit like a knife.

Enid’s thundering voice intercepted my thoughts. She held her megaphone to her face. “Attention, everyone. The rehearsal is about to begin.”

One by one, Enid gave the wedding party their marching orders as if she were General Patton. With Rabbi Silverstein already at the altar, Grandma led off the procession. She was followed by the groomsmen, who proceeded in pairs and included Chaz and Jeffrey, and then by Blake’s best man, Jaime. With a squeeze of my hand, Blake was the next to go. His parents flanked him. As he stepped onto the verdant lawn, Blake looked over his shoulder and blew me a kiss. For a fleeting moment, my gloom lifted. I blew one back at him.

As he disappeared into the ominous night, the bevy of bridesmaids, which included Gloria and Marcy, trailed behind him.

Libby and I were the only ones left. Along with Marcy’s twin boys, the ring bearers, and Mrs. Cho’s daughters, the flower girls. They had managed to score a snow globe and, huddled on the floor in the corner, were watching the little fish inside it swim around in circles. Squeals and laughter filled the air.

“Children,” barked Enid. “Your turn. Chop chop!”

The children ignored her. They were too busy playing.

Scowling, Enid marched over to them. She snatched the snow globe and, to my wide-eyed horror, tossed it across the room. The glass shattered and the fish went flying.

Mrs. Cho’s sweet little girls burst into tears.

“Meanie!” cried out one of the twins.

My eyes traveled to the fish flapping madly on the floor by my feet. In my overcharged emotional state, tears seared my eyes. The poor little thing. He was gasping for air. I could feel his pain. At this very moment, I, too, felt like a fish out of water. Helpless. Suffocating. Desperate. I fell to my knees and scooped the tiny orange creature into my palms. In a heartbeat, Libby, wearing one of Chaz’s little black dresses, was by my side with a bowl of water
. My Libby! Always there for me!

“Get up, you ridiculous girls,” seethed Enid as I struggled to get the fish into the bowl. He was squirming and jumping in my cupped hands. The captivated children had gathered around us.

Libby’s freckles jumped off her face as they did when she was enraged. She cranked her neck and gazed up at Enid.

“Shut up, you bitch!” she barked as I finally managed to get the fish safely into the water. It happily swam about.

The cheering children burst out in laughter. “She said the b-word,” singsonged one of the twins.

Enid was livid, but for the first time all day, I was on the brink of laughter. Libby didn’t hold back and high-fived one of the twins.

“Move it, you imps,” growled Enid, snapping her bony fingers at the children, “or I’m going to replace you with some
professional
children who know how to behave.”

One of Mrs. Cho’s daughters stuck her tongue out at the bitch while the other flung a handful of seashells at her from the basket she was holding.

“You little brats!” Enid screeched as she broke into a hot flash and began fanning herself. As the flustered wedding planner physically ushered the rambunctious children outside, a clap of thunder resounded.

Shit. Was it going to rain?

Still squatting, Libby gave me a hug. “I love you, Jen. Are you okay?”

I nodded, biting back the urge to tell her the truth.

“Next!” shouted Enid.

“That’s me.” With an affectionate squeeze of my hand, my maid of honor stood up and filed out the door.
Don’t leave me, Lib!

I was all alone. I should have been happy. Excited. But unbearable sadness devoured me along with agonizing pain.

Mendelssohn’s “Bridal March” drifted into my ear. My cue.

“Go!” screamed Enid with a sweeping wave of her free hand.

Slowly rising to my feet, I slumped toward the door, so missing my father and my mom. As I stepped outside, a bolt of lightning flashed and then midway down my lonely, painful walk down the aisle, the sky opened up. A sudden torrent of rain began to pour. In the near distance, the shrieking members of my wedding procession scurried about, dashing into the reception tent for shelter. I heard Enid scream through her megaphone, “Goddamnit. Will someone get me an umbrella?”

I stood there motionless. Tears mingled with the pounding raindrops. They stung my eyes, my skin, and soaked me soul-deep. Ahead of me, one person stood as still as me, drenched under a canopy of drowning flowers.
That
man who was waiting for me.
That
man who would always be there for me, whatever storm we weathered. Somehow, some way, through the tears, the pain, and all the rain, I made my way into his arms.