Going to the Chapel (3 page)

But that’s all history. I have enough problems right here and now to keep me busy without worrying about
the cosmic problems of relating to a God who is silent and a mother who has no room in her life for a daughter.

“I don’t suppose Elaine and what’s-his-name will break up again and call everything off,” I say as I take a long look around the party. “That way I wouldn’t need to worry about having a date for the wedding.”

I am already regretting Doug’s leaving. I don’t know Doug well, but I know him better than any other guy I’ve met in Hollywood. I’d counted on him to be my date for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, too.

“You don’t need a date for Elaine’s wedding,” Cassie says.

I blink at Cassie. “Of course, I do. I took a vow. You remember.”

“I’d be surprised if Elaine even remembers the doctor part of it, though,” Cassie says.

“Oh, she remembers,” I say.

Elaine had reminded me of my vow in the invitation she sent to her engagement party. Her exact words were “dated any doctors lately?” She’d scrawled it right over the embossed black lettering saying what a fine hotel the Grand Carlton was and what a lovely party it would be.

“But that was years ago. What were we—ten at the time?”

“We were eleven. But it doesn’t matter. A vow never expires.”

Especially not when it has been vowed in front of my cousin Elaine.

It had all started with a pair of black high-heel shoes my mother left behind on one of her visits to Blythe. My mother said I could keep the shoes and, when I
strapped them on my feet, I felt grown-up and incredibly tall. Aunt Inga fretted when I wore those shoes, but she didn’t have the heart to take them away from me. She knew how much I missed my mother; I guess she didn’t want me to miss those shoes, too.

One Saturday, when Aunt Inga was busy doing something else, I decided to walk down to the grocery store with my high heels on and get some eggs. Instead of eggs, I got Elaine.

When Elaine saw me in those shoes, I could see right away she was jealous. Aunt Ruth had gotten her a pair of short, stubby trainer heels, but Elaine was a long way from getting real high-heel shoes.

“You can’t wear those,” Elaine said. “You’ll fall and hurt your insides and not be able to have babies.”

“I’m going to have babies,” I had told her as I picked up a carton of eggs off the shelf.

“You’ll probably never get married, either,” Elaine added calmly once she had my attention.

“I will so.” I started walking to the counter to pay for the eggs. By this time in my life, I had learned to ignore Elaine’s taunts most of the time.

But then Elaine said something I thought was forbidden. She said my problem was that only the saints and a few special mothers could tolerate my red hair. If my mother didn’t want me or my hair with her in Las Vegas, why would I think any man would want me around when I was grown-up?

I had bright, unruly carrot hair. Somehow the hair didn’t bother me as much as Elaine always thought it should. I couldn’t believe, though, that Elaine had said anything about my mother not wanting me with her.
That was supposed to be one of those things that the family didn’t talk about, at least not in a public place like the grocery store. We might have our problems with all the half sister and half cousin stuff, but we kept them to ourselves.

Anyway, that’s when I had made my vow.

“You just watch and see,” I had said. I must have crossed my heart and hoped to die, I was that determined. “I’m not
just
going to get married—I’m going to marry a doctor. And I’m going to do it before you get married, too!”

It had been a foolish vow, but I never took it back. Even now I’d rather eat worms than give Elaine the satisfaction of seeing me admit defeat. When she was giving me the eye a minute ago, she looked happier than when her fiancé got up in front of everyone here and announced their engagement.

Which might be a surprise to someone else, but not to me. Elaine has enjoyed making my life miserable all our lives. And not just because she is beautiful and I am not. Oh, no, it goes far deeper than that. It goes all the way down to clothes.

When I was growing up, I was always well dressed. That’s because I got all of Elaine’s hand-me-downs. Uncle Howard is a doctor and that has made Aunt Ruth, in her own words, “the richest woman in Blythe.” When my mother refused the job as Aunt Ruth’s housekeeper, my aunt Inga asked to take it instead. One of the job perks was that Aunt Ruth gave all of Elaine’s old clothes to Aunt Inga so she could give them to me to wear.

You’d think from the way Aunt Ruth gave the
clothes to Aunt Inga that they had come off of the back of some royal princess instead of Elaine’s scrawny back. I’d rather have worn Aunt Inga’s old bathrobe to school than Elaine’s charity clothes. But Aunt Inga was so proud when she gave me the clothes that I couldn’t refuse to wear them.

The creepy thing was that whenever I was walking around in Elaine’s clothes I felt as if I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. As if I was a peasant pretending to be a princess. I think Elaine felt the same way only it was easier for her because she always got to be the princess in the story.

The whole thing with the clothes never should have been possible in the first place. That’s because I am older than Elaine by five months. Older kids are supposed to be taller. Elaine’s hand-me-downs should be too small for me. It just shouldn’t work.

Unfortunately, I have always been three inches shorter than Elaine so her old clothes always fit me just when they no longer fit her.

I hate being shorter than Elaine. I used to think that shortness was one of the old Biblical plagues like pestilence and famine. I know now that my theology was a little misplaced, but back then I figured God’s punishment on me was to keep me short enough for Elaine’s hand-me-downs. I figured He knew I was mad at Him and He was dealing with me in His Own Way. I couldn’t even say much about it without looking like a whiner—if He had sent me boils or the palsy than I might have gotten some sympathy. But my shortness looked deceptively ordinary.

The reason I knew God had thwarted me, however,
was because my mother was tall, willowy and beautiful. I might not have inherited my mother’s beauty, but I figured I was at least entitled to her height. And, inside, I felt tall. Much taller than Elaine. I don’t know what had happened on the outside of me that I didn’t grow to the height I was supposed to be.

It was bad enough having to get the hand-me-downs, but what was much worse was that on the first day that I wore any of the clothes to school Elaine would announce where they came from in front of everyone.

“That’s the dress I got in Palm Springs,” she’d say. “Now my half cousin gets to wear it.”

Then Elaine would give me The Look, the one that said she knew she was better than I was and I’d best know it, too. That’s the same look she just gave me today. She doesn’t call me her half cousin when she gives me The Look anymore, but she doesn’t need to. I know she’s saying it inside.

I don’t even know if there’s a word like half cousin, but I knew Elaine wanted it to be clear that I was not her real cousin. Somehow the half part always made me feel as though I didn’t quite measure up to a full anything.

If I hadn’t been convinced God hated me back then, I would have gotten down on my knees and prayed for some clothes that were all mine. I almost did once when the minister at Aunt Inga’s church read that verse about the lilies of the fields not needing to worry about what they were wearing. That was one sermon I listened to with hope.

But it had been a long time since I’d even tried to pray and so no words came. I knew God didn’t like hypocrites and I couldn’t bring myself to pray for
clothes one minute and blame Him for not listening to me the next. Finally, I let the urge to pray pass. I decided to be content with the prayers Aunt Inga said for me. At least she didn’t call me half anything.

I don’t know why Elaine’s engagement party is bringing back all of these memories. It should be a time for looking forward. I decide I will, at least, enjoy myself with what’s left of the evening.

O
h, no, here comes Elaine walking across the ballroom with me in her sights. Her evening gown is a shimmering pale blue sheath and, if it was on anyone but Elaine, I would say it made her look like an angel.

“Tell her Doug got called in to work,” I whisper to Cassie, who is still standing beside me.

“I know. That’s what he said he was going to check,” Cassie says.

“Perfect.”

Then we both turn around to face Elaine.

“I’m so glad you could both come,” Elaine says.

Elaine is tall, blond and should be a model, at least according to Aunt Ruth, who swears, if Elaine weren’t so delicate, she would be on the cover of the JCPenney catalog by now. That’s because our local grocery store once ran a picture of Elaine in the paper eating broccoli along with their advertised special on the vegetable.

The clerk in the grocery store said she’d never sold
as much broccoli in one week as she had because of that picture of Elaine. Aunt Ruth had a copy of the ad enlarged and laminated so it wouldn’t fade when she put it in her scrapbook. No one could talk to Elaine for weeks after that without her giving them that broccoli smile of hers. To this day, I can’t eat broccoli.

“Congratulations,” I say as I hold out my hand.

“Thanks,” Elaine says as she takes my hand and gives me The Look.

Even Cassie can see The Look so she interrupts. “I’d love to meet him.”

“Him?” Elaine’s face goes blank for a moment and then she remembers, “Oh, yes, Gary—you’ll love him.” She looks over at me as if she doesn’t realize I’ve already heard story after story from the aunts about her wonderful Gary. “He’s studying to be a dentist you know. Mother says that marrying a dentist is even better than marrying a doctor—he’ll make the same income, but he won’t have to work weekends.”

“He’s a student?” I latch onto the weak part in Elaine’s story.

Elaine flushes. She knows it’s the weak point. “Yes, but he’ll finish his classes soon and be accepted into his internship before Thanksgiving. That’s why we set the wedding for Thanksgiving weekend.”

“So soon?” It’s only three weeks away. I can’t help but needle Elaine. She has to know everyone in the family already knows the details, right down to the Lenox china pattern that she has picked out. I might be living in Hollywood, but even I’m in the loop. “I hope that gives you enough time to prepare. I mean for such a big wedding and all. I heard
you’ve rented that church in Palm Springs with the fancy windows. It should be perfect for bridal party pictures.”

Bull’s-eye.

Elaine blushes and looks at me. “I hope Mother told you that I’m limiting my bridesmaid group. Gary’s sister, Lynda, is going to be my maid of honor. I don’t know her, but, well, she’s family. And for the bridesmaids—well, I have so many friends and cousins I can’t ask everyone to be in the wedding party.”

“Not a problem,” I assure her although she and I both know she may have an excess of cousins—all of them male except for me—but very few friends.

“I still want you to come to the rehearsal dinner,” she offers.

“I’ll be there.”

“It’s not like you’d be able to wear the bridesmaid dress anyway. Not with your hair.”

My hair has mellowed into a very nice dark bronze color, but Elaine still says it clashes with things—and she’s right about it clashing with the color she picked for her bridesmaid dresses. She wants a fall theme so she’s going with orange and brown. Brown I could handle. But she picked orange for the dresses. Her bridesmaids are going to look like pumpkins, but there won’t be a redhead among them. I try not to be paranoid about Elaine picking the one color I can’t wear.

Except for Lynda, I wonder who Elaine will even ask to be in the bridal party. I know Lynda, who lives in Boston, wasn’t planning to be here tonight, but I heard a rumor that some bridesmaids were here tonight. That was my cousin Jerry talking, though,
and he may have just been hoping they’d come so he could look them over.

“Of course, I want you to be available in case Aunt Inga needs help assisting Aunt Gladys as they cut the cake,” Elaine says a little too sweetly, “so you will have an important part.”

“I’ll be honored,” I say as I smile. I’m the assistant to the assistant cake cutter. It doesn’t get better than that.

Elaine’s eyes narrow a little. She’s thrown off balance by my smile and good cheer. She looks around. “I wanted to meet your date. And, of course, he’s invited to the rehearsal dinner, as well. I don’t see him, do I?”

“I don’t know where he is,” Cassie says.

“He’s headed back to Los Angeles,” I say and then I pause. “Sometimes the hospital calls and needs him to come in to help with a procedure.”

Those are both true statements. They may not relate to each other, but a conversationalist who was able to think up the word half cousin when she was only seven should be able to take note of the pause.

Elaine frowns. “I didn’t know he was in medicine.”

“Well, he’s more of a specialist than anything,” I say airily. “Very important in the field of radiology.”

“Well, Gary would like to meet him then,” Elaine says. “We’ll have to make time to sit and talk at the rehearsal dinner. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

I smile and nod. It could happen. It would certainly be nice if it happened. Doug might even agree to come with me again. “What are you serving at your rehearsal dinner?”

“Prime rib and lobster.”

See? The odds of Doug coming to the rehearsal dinner are improving all the time.

“Oh,” Elaine says and I notice she’s not looking at me anymore. I turn to see what she’s looking at and I understand why she’s looking a little nervous. The aunts are all coming over.

“I brought some punch for your young man,” Aunt Ruth says as she holds a cup outward and looks around. I can tell she’s determined to be supportive of my relationship even if she doesn’t understand it. “Where is he?”

“He had to head back to Los Angeles,” Cassie says in a rush. “Something came up.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Aunt Ruth says as she turns to me. “I hope it’s nothing serious?”

I shake my head. That much I know.

“Well, good, because I thought he was nice,” Aunt Ruth continues. “He certainly has exquisite manners.”

Aunt Inga nods and beams. “Not many men know how to properly escort a woman these days. Even from across the room I could see what fine manners he had.”

Aunt Gladys just nods. She has five sons. She may have forgotten what manners are.

“Where did you meet your young fellow?” Aunt Gladys asks.

“Oh, Cassie met him at the coffee shop next to where she works.”

I wonder why it’s grown so silent and then I see that everyone has their eyes downcast.

Finally, Aunt Ruth says heartily. “Well, there’s no need to worry about who has a job and who doesn’t—not today on such a happy occasion.”

“I’m going to get a job,” I say. It was just my luck that I lost my job before Elaine got engaged. “You don’t need to worry. It’ll be soon, too.”

“Of course you’ll get a job,” Aunt Gladys says. “And it’s good that you’re taking your time.”

“It’s only been five weeks,” Aunt Inga says.

“Six,” I say.

“Oh.”

“Elaine doesn’t have a job,” I finally say, even though it makes me feel as though I’m three years old again. But I know for a fact that she’s not even looking for one.

“Of course not,” Aunt Ruth says in shock. “She’s got a wedding to plan.”

I don’t have anything to say to that.

But Cassie, bless her heart, does. “Julie is good at planning weddings.”

Cassie is remembering that we used to play wedding when we were little. Cassie loved the “who gives away the bride” part because we always pretended her real mother stepped forward to answer and say how very sorry she was that she’d given Cassie away when she was a baby. I loved the rest of the ceremony, from the songs to the flowers to the “I do.”

“Oh, we’ve hired a professional wedding planner to help with Elaine’s wedding—the poor woman’s been working away for months already,” Aunt Ruth says. “It’s such an important day—we don’t want to leave anything to chance. I mean, for some weddings an amateur planner would be fine, but not for one as special as Elaine’s.”

Elaine gives me The Look.

I don’t know what it is about that look that drives me crazy, but it does. That’s my only excuse for saying what I say next. “I’m getting a job as a wedding planner in Hollywood.”

“Really, dear?” Aunt Inga looks proud as she turns to her sisters. “See, Julie, is going to be a wedding planner. And in Hollywood! She might even get to meet some of the movie stars. Isn’t that wonderful?”

I can see The Look fade a little on Elaine’s face before she asks, “Movie stars? You might plan weddings for movie stars?”

“Well, I might have to start out as an assistant wedding planner,” I say, feeling pleased that Elaine is a tiny bit jealous.

“Of course,” Aunt Inga nods. “Everyone starts out as an assistant so they can learn.”

“I haven’t actually found the job yet,” I feel compelled to add.

“But she will,” Cassie says confidently at my side. Cassie never did like The Look, either. “And she’ll plan great weddings for movie stars. There will be pictures in all of the newspapers.”

Aunt Inga continues to beam. She’s probably thinking about her scrapbook. I always did wish I had more things for her to put in her scrapbook. Hers is skinny compared to the ones Aunt Ruth and Aunt Gladys have. Of course, Aunt Ruth has Elaine and Aunt Gladys has all the boys and their sporting honors. I did get my name in the newspaper once for breaking my leg in a school track meet when I was ten, but it wasn’t much of a write-up.

I try to smile confidently. Life isn’t all about scrap
books. It would be good, though, if I didn’t need to answer any more questions right away. What I need is an earthquake. Everyone is always talking about how California is going to have The Big One. What’s wrong with now?

“Isn’t that Gary over there?” I finally say as I point in the opposite corner of the room. And Gary, the blessed groom-to-be,
is
there by the way. “I thought he wanted to make a little speech.”

Gary had said at the announcement time that he wanted to make a few remarks later. Whatever he has in mind probably isn’t of the magnitude of an earthquake, but it does manage to unknot the aunts. Aunt Ruth takes Elaine with her and they go over to talk to Gary. Aunt Gladys goes over to the punch table. And Aunt Inga goes to find a comfortable chair to sit in.

“Well, now I’ve done it,” I say when it is just Cassie and me again. “Everybody’s going to expect me to get a job as a wedding planner, in Hollywood no less.”

“It’ll be easier than finding a doctor to date before Thanksgiving.”

I have to admit that Cassie has a point. Strange as it is, it cheers me up. You know, I might actually find a job like that.

“When we get back, I’m going to look at the ads in the
Times,
” I say.

“Get one of those throwaway freebie papers like the
Hollywood Reader.
That’s where you’ll find those kinds of jobs.”

Just knowing I have a plan makes the rest of Elaine’s party bearable. Gary, who I don’t know all that well since I haven’t been around to watch the
blossoming of their true love, makes his speech about how grateful he is that Elaine said yes to his proposal and how sure he is that eternal happiness awaits them.

Gary’s parents are sitting at a table near where he and Elaine are standing. I can’t help but notice that his parents both have smiles on their faces that don’t move. Seriously. Their lips are frozen in place. If you just glance at Gary’s parents, you’d think they both are happy. But if you keep looking at them for a minute or two, you see that their expressions don’t change. It’s kind of eerie. Maybe it’s a rich person’s thing. I’d give odds, though, that they are thinking Gary and Elaine won’t have happiness that lasts past next week, much less throughout eternity.

Of course, I should talk. I don’t give their marriage great odds, either. I suddenly wonder if my smile is wooden, too. I keep smiling all through Gary’s speech so I will look friendly, but I am careful to move my lip muscles some so I look sincere at the same time. After all, Gary might not be such a bad guy. All I really know about him is that he was born wealthy and wants to be a dentist. Neither one of those things is a crime. Of course, I also know that he’s a boring guy with no personality, but maybe he can’t help that. And, at least he’s a
rich
boring guy—with parents.

If my interpretation of their forced smiles is correct, Gary’s parents aren’t exactly planning to sweep Elaine into their hearts. But, lots of married couples begin their lives together with some kind of in-law trouble. Maybe Elaine and Gary are better off to just get the bad times over right up front. For all of Elaine’s faults,
she is not the worst person in the world. She and Gary should be able to work it all out fine.

At least Elaine doesn’t make speeches and, about now, I’m thinking there’s some virtue in that fact alone.

I try to concentrate on the rest of Gary’s speech, which continues on about happiness, although he doesn’t mention eternal happiness anymore, to my disappointment. I’ve always wondered about eternal happiness and am not opposed to hearing someone else’s thoughts on the matter. I have these questions. I mean, would you know you were happy if you were eternally happy? Does a goldfish know that it’s wet if it’s always swimming in water? Or does a bird know it’s in the air if it’s always in the air? Do people need to see unhappiness to know that they are happy? Or do they need to see happiness to know they are unhappy?

Well, Gary isn’t going into any of those questions and you can see why the rest of the party is fading off into a blur for me. I am going cross-eyed trying to figure out this eternal happiness business. That’s the problem with speeches. Sometimes they make a person think. I take a closer look at Gary. Eternal happiness is quite a goal for an adult, but he looks confident he can meet it even with his two parents sitting there frozen in time beside him. Maybe the thing between parents and their children is never just a slam dunk where everything works out right and everyone is happy.