In an Instant(45)
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know CPR, and if he collapses during the ceremony and I can’t resuscitate him, I’ll marry you myself. I have a license to wed.”
It’s true. Before my dad married my mom, he was the captain of a private yacht, and his boss asked him to get licensed so my dad could officiate his fourth wedding.
“Not gonna happen,” Aubrey says.
“It could. I’d be great. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this incredible, lovely, amazing woman with this not nearly good enough man . . .”
Aubrey socks him in the arm.
“You punch like a girl,” my dad says. “Chloe, will you teach your sister how to punch?”
Chloe gives half a smirk.
She actually came down for breakfast. Mostly because my mom refuses to bring her meals up to her anymore, and she won’t allow anyone else to, either, which has forced Chloe from her bed.
“I love these pancakes,” Aubrey says. “I swear that’s what I miss most about not living here. No offense, everyone, you’re great and all, but seriously, living without Mom’s cooking is a major hardship.”
My mom’s cheeks flush. “Maybe you want to take some lemons home with you,” she says. “The lemon tree is bursting with fruit.” She looks at my dad as she says this, the overture to their life together, their history, and their marriage transparent. Her glance ricochets off his fixedly congenial expression of stone.
Aubrey misses it all. “That would be great. And can you give me the recipe for these pancakes? Ben would love them.”
Despite everything that has happened, Aubrey remains remarkably unchanged. Like a time traveler thrown into a post-Armageddon world, she is aware of the tragedy but also oblivious to it, unaltered and therefore impervious to the fact that everyone around her has mutated into strange new creatures, alien beings teetering on the brink of destruction.
And remarkably, her blindness is like a magnetic pole of ordinariness that pulls everything back toward normalcy. She chatters about her wedding and the flowers and the invitations, and my mom, my dad, and Chloe cling to it, participating more than they ever did before, thankful or desperate to be focused on something other than the travesty they’ve been focused on for the past twenty-six days.
To some extent I think Aubrey realizes it more than she lets on, her blitheness exaggerated. No one knows it, but right after the accident, she and Ben talked about postponing the wedding. A celebration in the wake of so much tragedy felt wrong, and Aubrey was distraught about it. She talked to her future mother-in-law, who talked to the priest, but ultimately it was Karen who cemented her decision to go forward with it.
The day my dad and Chloe were transferred back to Orange County, a package arrived at Aubrey’s apartment. The card read, You are going to make the most beautiful bride, a ray of light in a time of darkness. I’m sorry we will be unable to attend your wedding. All our love, Aunt Karen, Uncle Bob, and Natalie.
The Tiffany Blue box contained a stunning pair of pearl-and-diamond drop earrings: exactly the sort of earrings my mom and Aunt Karen had been clucking over in the bridal salon the day before we’d left for the mountains. Aubrey closed the box and held it in her hands for a long time, and then she set the earrings and the note in the top drawer of her dresser and called my mom to tell her she had found the perfect earrings to go with her dress. And my mom forced lightness into her voice as she asked about them. And Aubrey forced herself to be upbeat as she described them.
And after that, there was no longer any discussion about canceling the wedding, and Aubrey became determinedly perky each time she was around my family, resolved to be the “ray of light” my family needed, despite how often she didn’t actually feel that way.
“Ben and I are completely lost on the song list for the reception,” she says now. “Neither of us knows music. I swear our guests are going to be groaning.”
“I can help,” Chloe says, causing my parents to turn in surprise and Aubrey’s eyes to bulge.
Chloe rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, sis; I know you don’t dig grunge. I got it, pure Adele and Maroon 5—cheesy Taylor Swift romance fluff.”
My mom’s expression pleads across the table, begging Aubrey to say yes.
With a brave smile and as much false enthusiasm as she can muster, Aubrey says, “Great.”
I slap her on the back, then do a jig. Way to go, Aubrey.
From the moment Aubrey announced her engagement, I was sick of it, but now I’m loving it. Let’s talk ribbon and lace and garters and bridesmaids. My mom is smiling as my dad jokes that he wants to help Chloe with the music, add a little Michael Jackson and Madonna to the mix, and Chloe rolls her eyes, and Aubrey holds her fingers up like a crucifix warding off the devil. And watching them, they almost look like a normal, happy family.
55
The moment Aubrey leaves, the air deflates, a united exhale of exhaustion from feigning happiness for nearly a day. Chloe disappears into her room. My mom washes dishes. My dad watches TV.
When my mom’s phone buzzes, she goes into the backyard and sits beneath the lemon tree to answer it. “Hey,” she says softly. “Okay . . . yeah, he’s okay . . . I don’t know where he went. He wouldn’t tell me . . .” She laughs. “I don’t think so. He can barely get it up to pee.”