Anything but Ordinary(37)
Gabby was widening her eyes at Bryce from the front seat, her mouth pursed. Bryce looked apologetically at her, wondering what she’d said wrong.
They dropped the subject as Mary dove into stories of her month building houses in Mexico this summer. Mary was a good storyteller, and her bright eyes flashed as she talked. She made huge hand motions and had a booming, clear voice. She’d spent most of her time down south helping to build a school in Oaxaca, perfecting her Spanish, checking out the scenery. The rest of her time, however, was spent in the best restaurants and tequila bars in Mexico City.
“I’m a sucker for good tequila,” Mary confided to Bryce. “And let’s just say this weekend we’ll be sampling a well-aged bottle I was able to get over the border.”
“I can’t drink,” Bryce said sadly.
“Oh. Well, water will do fine.” Zen lifted her water bottle to Bryce. “A toast! To a wonderful addition to our group!”
Zen, Mary, and the brunettes in the backseat lifted their water bottles, and Bryce had no choice but to join them.
Gabby smiled at the rest of them, and raised her own. “To great friends,” she modified.
“And to you, Gabs.” Mary beamed. “To you, and to Greg, and to love.”
um-dee-dee-dum-dum-DUM!”
“TEQUILA!” the rest of the girls in the car finished. Even Bryce roused herself from her thoughts. The tune reminded her of the pep band at a Hilwood football game.
Gabby let out a whoop and threw up her long, tanned arms. Her brunette friends followed suit. Bryce now knew their names were Molly and Hannah, though she was still deliberating who was who as the van ride was ending. They were both in “marketing,” they said.
“Tequila at ten a.m.?” Bryce raised her eyebrows. They were pulling up to the enormous old Opryland Hotel, where they were being treated to a spa day.
Mary extracted a tall shiny bottle from her tote bag. “Bryce, darling, perhaps you’ve never heard of something called a Tequila Sunrise.”
“Trust me, Mary won’t be able to take off her clothes for the massage without it,” Zen said, leaning toward Bryce. Then, in a mock whisper, “She’s kind of a never-nude.”
“I heard that!” Mary shrieked. “Am not!”
As a bellhop in an old-fashioned uniform unloaded their bags, the girls rode the elevator to the top floor of the hotel. Inside the adjoining suites, enormous windows surrounded lush rugs on polished tile. Marble-topped tables held vases of fresh flowers. Bryce stepped up to one of the wall-length windows, Nashville spreading out below her.
When she turned back around, most of the girls had stepped out of their clothes and into large, white fluffy towels. One of the brunettes was lining up delicate glasses, portioning orange juice in each of them.
“Oh.” Bryce tucked her hair behind her ear. “Aren’t we…um, going to the spa?”
Gabby came over and draped a towel around Bryce’s shoulders. “No, dear,” she said, untucking Bryce’s hair. “The spa is coming to us!”
As Bryce stuffed her clothes in her bag, she came across the blue printed sleep mask, and smiled to herself, thinking of Carter’s gray eyes and his too-loud voice. I care about you, he’d said.
But she was distracted when white-outfitted people arrived and began moving furniture around to set up massage tables. Next came a row of three enormous leather chairs attached to tubs of steaming water.
“For pedicures,” Zen informed her as she set up a row of candles.
In a blur, the girls drew the shades, lit the candles, and gathered in the center of the room for a Tequila Sunrise toast (just orange juice for Bryce). Then they positioned themselves on the various relaxation mechanisms around the room.
From a massage table, Bryce flinched at the touch of a stranger’s hands on her naked back. She listened to the voices in the dark discuss LSATs, charity work, Vogue Italia, long-distance relationships. She listened as they turned her best friend into Gabby Travers, lawyer extraordinaire. Bryce had always thought she and Gabby were alike, at least in the ways that mattered. But Gabby had turned into this beautiful, confident woman with stamps on her passport and graduate school plans, Bryce thought as she watched her feet soak in the bubbling water. And Bryce hadn’t turned into anything.
At dinner in a private back room of the velvet-curtain-covered, chandelier-lit Opryland restaurant, Bryce ate breaded squid for an appetizer, filet mignon and mashed fingerling potatoes for an entrée, and rich chocolate cake for dessert in the smallest, savoring bites. Because it was delicious, yes, but also because she didn’t feel pressure to talk when her mouth was full. She may not have anything interesting to say, but she could eat.
After their plates were cleared, Bryce stood up awkwardly, looking at Zen and Mary for encouragement. They nodded, clapping lightly with excitement. They had wanted her to contribute somehow to the weekend, so she did her best. With swirly hand motions and a curtsy, Bryce presented Gabby with the silver tiara from the flea market, and a shiny pink sash that read HERE COMES THE BRIDE.
Gabby squealed and wrapped her in a hug. “Oh my god, Bryce!”
As they hugged, it felt for just a moment that Bryce actually was Gabby’s best friend. Someone who really did know her best because she had known her the longest, because she had helped Gabby feel good when no one else could. Someone who belonged there.