THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) (12 page)

“Marvelous,” breathed Enid in her throaty voice as she circled me.

“But—”

Her face tightened. “Remember, Jennifer, there are no buts.” She turned to Monique. “
Darling,
what do you think?

“Positively sublime. She’s so going to be the siren bride. Time to get her into her dress.”

I watched as Monique gathered the gown and carefully lifted off the plastic. Ten minutes later, with the helping hands of her assistants, I was in it and wearing my white satin heels along with the glittery starfish headpiece.

I glared at my reflection in the three-way mirror. The bride was supposed to look radiant, but I was anything but. My glazed, heavily made-up eyes blinked back tears. Despite the alterations, the ruffly mermaid-style dress still fit all wrong and the butt pad made me look distorted.

I was swimming in my dress.

I was drowning in a sea of sorrow.

I was floundering for words.

Monique screwed up her face. “How dare you lose more weight! My assistants are going to have to make some last minute alterations.”

Enid growled. “I’m going to charge Helen extra for all the unnecessary work and stress you’ve caused us.”

And what about all the stress she’d caused me? I held back treacherous tears as Monique’s clones began to pin the
vomiticious
creation down the sides. I so wanted my mom.

Back in my robe, I stumbled to a couch and sat down hunched over. One hand cupped my head, the other my tummy. While Enid excused herself to check on what was going on outside, Monique watched over her assistants as they worked together to stitch down the gown with the portable sewing machine they’d brought along. My cell phone rang. My heart pounding, I slipped it out of the robe pocket. Blake again. More great news! His dad’s private plane had landed in Dallas and my parents were on their way. He promised to keep me posted.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. after sharing the good news.

The truth: Like crap. Though my case of nerves had subsided, the shooting pains in my abdomen were coming at me more frequently and sharply. Clutching my stomach, I lied through my teeth and told Blake I was feeling a little better. He didn’t need more stress.

“Baby, hang in there. I can’t wait to say ‘I do’,” he breathed into the phone.

“The same. I love you.” He returned the words and ended the call as another bolt of pain shot through me. While most brides probably wanted their wedding day to last forever, I couldn’t wait for mine to be over. Anxiously, I fiddled with my glittering snowflake diamond ring. The memory of Blake surprising me with it—hidden in a snow globe no less—danced in my head and temporarily took my mind off all my troubles.

A familiar voice cut into the fond memory and widened the small smile on my face. Grandma!

“Bubala, I heard you’re coming down
vith
something. Flu
shmu!
I brought you a
bissel
of my chicken soup. Jewish penicillin.”

“Enid’s going to get mad you’re here.”

“Enid
shmenid.”
Handing me a steaming bowl of her aromatic soup, she plopped down next to me on the velvet couch. “Eat!” she commanded.

“Thanks, Grandma,” I murmured, forcing myself to put a tablespoon of the hot broth to my lips. I blew on it and then sipped the flavorful liquid. You know what? The soup
was
magical. As it coursed through me, I felt a little better. I helped myself to several tablespoons more.

“Mmmm. So good. I’ll never make it as good as you.”

Grandma flicked her wrist dismissively. “Bubala, you’ll learn.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Enid. She was back. At the sound of her shrill voice, I almost choked on a mouthful of soup.

“Vhat
does it look like?” barked Grandma as I coughed.

“Give that to me,” hissed Enid, stomping my way. “You’re going to totally ruin your lipstick.”

“Here you go, you
klafte
.” Before I could blink, Grandma snatched my spoon and scooped up a matzo ball from the half-full bowl. My face lit up as she flung the giant ball at Enid. Whoot! It smacked the bitch in the face. Enid shrieked.

“How dare you!” she cried, wiping the crumbly fragments off her cheeks. Her eyes were flaring. I couldn’t help laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” Enid seethed, gritting her teeth.

Rather than responding, I gave Grandma a hug. I loved this woman. She had
chutzpah!
Balls. Big ones.

Monique sprinted over to Enid. “Darling, are you okay?” she asked, flicking off bits of the dumpling from her lover’s chin as if they were deadly insects. The fashion designer shot Grandma a scathing look. “What the hell did you do?”

Grinning wickedly, Grandma scooped up another perfectly formed matzo ball.
“Vould
you like to try one too?”

With a gasp, Monique defensively shielded her face with her hand and turned to Enid. “Come on, darling. Let’s get out of here before this dangerous woman does something to me.” Wrapping her other arm around Enid, she ushered her out of the room.

“
Vhat
is it
vith
those two?” Grandma asked after Enid and Monique were gone.

“There’s more than meets the eye.”

“Oy!
They
shtup
vun
another?”

“So I hear.”

“Vait
till I tell Helen!”

Tell Grandma; tell the world. I had a hunch everyone in town would soon know about Enid’s dirty little secret. And it could be the talk of the wedding. With mild amusement, I took another sip of soup.

Grandma stood up. “Bubala, feel better. Time for me to get ready for the
vedding.
I’ve got a hot date.” She winked.

Luigi, Blake’s seventy-eight-year-old tailor, had recently become Grandma’s new friend with benefits. They were adorable together, and Grandma couldn’t stop talking about his Italian “salami.”

I thanked Grandma for coming to my rescue and gave her another big hug before she marched out of the room. I finished the rest of the soup while Monique’s assistants continued working on my gown. Grandma’s comic relief and the effects of her magical soup were short-lived. A stately grandfather’s clock chimed five times. It was five o’clock. My parents would be landing any minute. I silently prayed they’d be here soon. Unsettling nerves again mixed with painful spasms. I could barely stand up when one of Monique’s assistant asked me to take off my robe so she could help me into the altered gown. With effort, I managed. And with even greater effort, I stumbled back over to the tri-fold mirror. Yes, the taken-in dress definitely fit me more snugly, but the area where the skirt fanned out in a cascade of ruffles—it was like having a rope tied around my knees. Oh my God. I could barely take a step in the mermaid gown, which would make dancing at my wedding near impossible, let alone walking down the aisle. As I stared at my frightening bridal self, I felt like crying.

“Is there anything you can do to make it looser around here?” I asked the seamstress, tugging at the impossibly tight area.

She shook her head. “There’s not enough fabric or time.”

I grimaced. Not because of my disappointment but because of the relentless abdominal pain. It was getting worse. Like a hundred knives jabbing me.

In the mirror, I saw Monique’s other assistant coming toward me. She was holding a jeweled creation in her hand.

“This is your bouquet. Ms. Hervé wants you to get used to holding it.”

I eyed the so-called bouquet. It was a sparkling concoction of crystal starfish, pearls, and seashells. Not a fresh, fragrant bloom among them. The assistant handed me the arrangement. Grabbing it with one hand, I wasn’t prepared for the weight of it. Seriously, the clunker must have weighed ten pounds. Libby had better catch it because if I missed and hit her in the head, it was going to knock her out. I fucking hated it.

My cell phone rang again. “Could you please hand me my phone,” I asked the seamstress. Given how long it would take me to walk back to the couch in the constricting gown, I might miss the call. Fingers crossed, it was Blake letting me know my parents were en route. He’d arranged for a limousine to pick them up at nearby Van Nuys Airport.

“Are they on their way?” I asked Blake while Monique’s two assistants took a break.

“Baby, there’s a problem.”

A problem?
My heart hammered madly. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a Sig-alert.”

“What do you mean?”

“A big rig toppled over. The traffic on the 101 is at a total standstill.”

Oh my God! How could this be happening? “Blake, when are they going to clear it?”

I could hear Blake inhale and exhale on the other end. “I don’t know. To make matters worse, it was a tanker, so there’s an oil spillage too.”

No, no, no, no.
“Blake, is there anything you can do?” My raspy voice was thick with desperation and despair.

Silence.

“Blake, are you there?” My desperation was close to panic.

“Sorry, tiger. I got distracted. How do you feel?”

It was time to tell him the truth. Two words: “Like crap.” My voice was watery. I was on the edge.

Blake: “Shit. Gotta go. Guests are showing up by the droves, and I’ve got to mingle with them. Hang in there, baby. I’ll call you if I hear anything. Or come up with something.”

“Love you,” I mumbled, holding the phone limply in my hand as we ended the call. I immediately speed-dialed my father, eager to talk to him, but my phone went dead. Shit! I’d not kept it charged. And worse, I didn’t have my charger with me. In my feverish stupor, I’d left it at Blake’s condo.
Shit. Shit. Shit
. I now couldn’t receive any updates—from either Blake or my parents.

At an all time low, I did the only thing any bride in this situation would do. Before the tri-fold mirror, I sunk to my knees, not caring if I split open my hideous gown. I couldn’t help myself. I started to cry. Scratch that. I started to bawl. Big snotty, tears fell onto the jeweled bouquet as my shoulders heaved. This was my wedding day. I was sick as a dog. My dress was a mess. My parents were inaccessible. For God’s sake. Couldn’t one little thing go right?

I didn’t know how long I’d been sobbing when I felt two warm hands on my shoulders, massaging them gently. Slowly, I lifted my head and gazed into the mirror. Squatting behind me was Blake’s mother Helen, dressed to kill in her magnificent one-shoulder coral gown and a dazzling array of diamonds.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. We’re not starting the wedding until your parents arrive.”

I met her compassionate eyes in the mirror. I looked scarier than ever. My pale skin, now blotchy, was stained with a sea of tears, and squid-like streaks of inky mascara trickled down my cheeks.

I twitched the smallest of smiles. No words. I had no words. And then in the mirror, another figure appeared. Enid.

“It’s after six o’clock. Guests are grumbling. Getting drunk on oyster shooters, which, by the way, we’re running out of.”

Helen cranked her long neck to face her. “Then let them drink water.” The sharp tone of her of her voice was new to me.

Enid’s face hardened. Her voice was ice-cold. “Helen, darling, I cannot disappoint our guests. I’ve never delayed an event. The show must go on.”

Helen stood up and squarely faced Enid. “Blake and my husband are perfectly capable of entertaining
our
guests.”

That was true. Both were natural-born showmen. Like father like son.

Enid’s eyes narrowed. “Helen, I run the show, and I say the show must go on.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s as simple as that.”

Helen’s eyes shot back daggers. “Darling, I’m flitting the bill, and I say there’s no ‘show’ until the McCoys get here. My future daughter-in-law is
not
walking down the aisle without her parents.” She snapped her fingers. “It’s as simple as
that.”

Wow! I’d never seen Helen like this. She was in total battle-mode. A ninja warrior.

Smoke was shooting out of Enid’s nostrils. I could practically smell it. “Helen, you don’t seem to understand. I have a reputation to uphold. My events always go off perfectly. Without delays.”

Not wasting a second, she put the walkie talkie she was holding to her mouth. “Attention. Please have the guests take their seats. The wedding is about to begin.

Helen, to my astonishment, snatched the device and put it to her mouth.

“Attention. This is Helen Bernstein. Please have the guests take their seats and make an announcement that the wedding is a little delayed.” And then with force, she hurled the walkie talkie against one of the painting-lined walls.
Slam!
The little black box fell apart as it hit the floor.

“How dare you?” shrieked Enid.

Helen smiled smugly. “I’ve always had a good throw. You should know, I’m the designated pitcher at my annual ‘Big Sister’ charity softball game.”

Enid was seething. “This would have never happened if Blake had married Katrina.”

“Blake never wanted to marry your skanky daughter. What she did to him was abominable.”

“What your son did to
her
was unforgivable. And to our family. We almost went under. Why do you think I became an event planner? Because I wanted a career? Hardly. I needed the fucking money. We were broke. Clayton almost had to sell the house. And we had to fine-dine at Sizzler. Do you honestly think I like working for you? Hardly. You’re a fucking rich bitch. Your money keeps me afloat.”

“Well, Enid. You’d better think of a new
fucking
career. Because…You’re… fired!” My future mother-in-law aimed her thumb and index finger at her like a gun.

Enid gasped, her mouth dropping wide open with shock. And then the unbelievable happened. On the next breath, she lunged at Helen, almost knocking her to the floor. “I hate you, you fucking bitch!” she shrieked.

Catching her balance, Helen yanked at Enid’s hair. “It takes one to know one.” She yanked again. Enid yelped, “Fuck you!” and retaliated. A giant clump of Enid’s ebony hair—holy shit, a ten-inch hair extension!—fell to the floor, followed by a wad of Helen’s platinum locks.