Once and for All(33)
CHAPTER
9
“NOW?”
“No.”
A pause. “Now?”
I shook my head. Another pause. Then, finally, William gave me the nod.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Now.”
Ambrose leaned down over the ring bearer, a kindergartner named Ira, saying, “Okay, dude. It’s go time.” He rubbed his shoulders like a boxer’s trainer, about to send him into the ring. “You got this! Walk!”
I sighed as Ira, in his tiny tux, carrying a white satin pillow with the two rings very loosely sewn on, started forward. In BRR, my mom reached into her pocket for some M&Ms.
One, two, three, four, five, I counted, then nodded at Ambrose. He said something to the two flower girls—both redheads and plentifully freckled—that made them giggle, then gave them the go-ahead. The older one began tossing rose petals carefully, as I’d demonstrated; the younger threw most of hers out in one big clump. Well, you couldn’t have everything.
“Oh, my God, y’all, I’m so nervous!” Julie, the maid of honor, said loudly as the first bridesmaid and groomsman began their walk. My mother and William had christened her an SS—Spotlight Stealer—at the rehearsal dinner the night before, when her speech stretched to twenty minutes, only ending with her sobbing happy tears, reportedly much to the bride’s obvious annoyance. Weddings were like truth serum, or so my mom always said. Whatever your personality, it would come out in spades. “Does anybody have a mint?” Julie said. “I’m serious. I need a mint!”
I was reaching into my pocket for one when Ambrose beat me to it, stepping back beside her as the next couple from the party began walking. “The flavor is cool waterfall,” he told her, holding out a roll. “I find it both surprising and refreshing.”
“Oh, bless you.” Julie helped herself to one, popping it into her mouth, then smoothed back her hair. “Do I look okay? I’m a wreck!”
The groomsman she’d been paired with rolled his eyes. Short and stubby with a red face, he had a whiny wife, plus two small children who’d been running around like wild animals. I’d seen him taking multiple gulps from a flask during lineup, either thinking no one would notice or just not caring. There were lives you envied, I guess, and those you didn’t.
“You’re stunning,” Ambrose told her as I walked back to where the bride, Charlotte, was standing with her father, blinking rapidly as she looked ahead at the packed church.
“Excited?” I said to her, the word we used instead of nervous. She nodded, blinking again. “You’re going to do great. Remember, it’s supposed to be fun!” I saw her face relax, slightly—I’d take what I could get—and then Julie’s voice drifted back to us. “Oh, God, I’m next! I’m a total wreck! Does anyone have a tissue?”
Charlotte tensed right back up, a full body clench. Her dad glared. Ambrose, oblivious, gave Julie a tissue.
I looked ahead, into the church. In the back row, my mom was looking right at the bride. I had no doubt that even from a distance she was following this entire exchange solely by body cues and expressions. By the time she turned her attention to me, I was already sliding in closer to Charlotte, cupping a hand on her elbow.
“You look gorgeous,” I told her. She and her dad were the only ones left now, Julie and her groomsman halfway down the aisle. “And remember, this is your day.”
“I’m going to fucking kill her tomorrow,” she declared through gritted teeth. Her lipstick was perfect.
“And not a soul would blame you,” I replied smoothly. “Ready to get married?”
She sucked in a breath as I bent down, fluffing out the beaded train of her ivory, full-skirted dress one last time. When I stood, I saw Julie up at the front of the church, dramatically dabbing her eyes as the photographer, oblivious, moved in for the candid shot. As the organ began again, William, stealthy like a shark, moved in to say something to Julie. Then everyone stood, blocking my view.
“Wow,” Ambrose said, a few minutes later, after we’d eased shut the back doors of the church, then taken our places by the side entrance where we’d wait to corral everyone post-ceremony. “That was intense. It’s like coordinating an explosion.”
“We might have had one, if Julie had kept talking,” I told him. “In the future, remember we only use words like ‘stunning’ for the bride in the bride’s earshot.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “She seemed like she needed some confidence.”
“She’s a desperate attention seeker who had no qualms about hijacking her so-called best friend’s wedding,” I replied. “The worst thing you can do is give someone like that attention.”
“And a mint is attention?”
“If you don’t offer them to the bride first.”
“Do you realize you sound like a crazy person?”
Suddenly William appeared behind us, slightly out of breath from taking the outside route around the church. “Jesus, that maid of honor is a piece of work. Did you see those soap opera tears? I half expected her to swan into a faint and stop the whole ceremony.”
I smiled. “What did you say to her?”