I Do (7 page)

Jenny fastens up the back of the dress, then I step out and do the obligatory walk, slowly and gracefully, as if I'm coming down the aisle. I give a half turn so they
can see the back, turn around to face them, and just for fun I even curtsy.

“That's beautiful,” says Joy, clapping her hands together.

“It really is.” Jenny turns me around to face the big three-way mirror so I can see for myself.

I nod and consider the dress. It really is one of the best ones I've seen, and it does fit me perfectly. Okay, it's a little snug, but then I'm going to lose some weight by June.

“I think we should get it,” says Joy suddenly.

“Oh, I don't think-”

“She might be right, Cate. It looks fantastic on you. Really. It's so perfect. It's by far the best one we've seen all day.”

“But I'm not really ready to-”

“When is the wedding?” asks the older woman who's been helping us.

“June,” offers Joy.

“It's not too soon to make a decision,” says the woman. “Some women get their dresses a year in advance. And already we're getting backlogged on certain styles.” She peers at the dress I'm wearing. “Including this one.” She glances around, as if to see if anyone else is listening. “And if you hadn't noticed, this dress is quite similar to a Vera Wang that sells for thirteen thousand.”

“No,” Joy says, as if she'd just been told the dress had been woven from gold thread spun by a traveling band of leprechauns.

“Yes,” says the saleswoman.

“I thought it looked familiar.” Jenny examines the dress more closely.

“I don't expect we'll have this dress for long,” says the saleswoman.

Now I'm feeling desperate. Like there's no way I can agree to buy this dress without both my mother's and Beanie's approval. This shopping trip has gotten totally out of control. I consider calling Josh on my cell phone, then wonder what he can possibly say.

“I really think you need to seriously consider this dress,” says Joy.

I look at my reflection again. And okay, I'll admit it looks good. Really good. But even so, it feels wrong. “But I plan on losing some weight,” I try using this as an excuse but know it probably sounds lame. “I mean, by June I could be a whole dress size smaller.”

The saleswoman nods as if this makes perfect sense. “That's not unusual, dear. We never do the final alteration until a couple of weeks before the wedding. We want the dress to fit perfectly.”

“But I-”

“No buts,” says Joy. “I think this is the one, and I think we all know it.”

“But I can't possibly buy it today.” Then it occurs to me that it may be too expensive. “I don't even know how much it is.” Joy told me earlier today not to even look at the prices. “Just try things on,” she said. “See how they
feel and what you like.” So I have totally disregarded price tags.

The saleswoman looks at the tag in the back of my dress, then finally says, “It's only nineteen nine.”

“Ninety-nine?” I repeat, incredulous at the bargain. I turn and look at the dress again. “Really, did I hear you right? Did you say ninety-nine dollars?”

She smiles and looks slightly embarrassed for me.
“Nineteen hundred and nine dollars.”

Jenny laughs. “Oh, you knew that, Cate.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, but at least Jenny understands. And I do know this: That is only ninety-one dollars less than two thousand. And there is no way I will let my parents pay that kind of money for a dress I will only wear once.

“That's not so bad,” says Joy. “Some of the dresses you tried on today were three times that.”

“No way,” I say and instantly regret it. It's as if I'm trying to look like the country bumpkin today. But I am just plain tired. And I am sick and tired of trying on stupid, expensive dresses.

“How about if I put it on my card?” says Joy. “You can take it home, show your parents, and see if they don't absolutely love it.”

“Oh, no, I can't let you-”

“I insist.” She turns to the clerk now. “If her parents don't agree, is this returnable?”

“Certainly.” The woman smiles as if this sale is in the
bag. “As long as no damage is done to the dress.”

“But I can't-”

“No, Caitlin,” says Joy. “You need to give this dress a chance. If you don't get it today, it could be gone by the time you come to your senses and realize that it's perfect for you.”

I turn to Jenny for some moral support, but she is just nodding. “Really, you look like royalty in that.”

“She has sort of a Princess Grace look, doesn't she?” says the saleswoman.

“I think you're right,” says Joy. “I just loved the old Grace Kelly movies.”

I don't even know who they're talking about, but it seems like I'm not even in the room anyway. I return to the dressing room where Jenny helps me to remove the gown. “This is crazy,” I tell her.

“You look amazing in that dress,” Jenny says in a slightly irritated voice. “I would kill to look that gorgeous, and you act like you can't even see it.”

I pause and study her to see if she's just stringing me along. “Really? You think it's that great?”

“Maybe it's like me and anorexia,” she says as she reverently arranges the ribbons that hold the dress in place on the hanger. “It's like we can't really see ourselves.”

And that just gets to me. So I allow Josh's mother to put the dress on her credit card, but the whole time I'm thinking this is all wrong.

I sit in silence as Joy drives us back to our dorm. It
doesn't really matter since she and Jenny are chatting congenially, just like old friends. And while I feel the slightest bit jealous over the way Josh's old girlfriend is suddenly bonding with my mother-in-law to be, I am also thankful because I'm so worn out that I can think of nothing to say.

By the time we reach the dorm, it is agreed, and I must admit wisely so (although I had nothing to do with it personally), that the dress should remain with Joy until I come home and have a chance to try it on for my parents.

“That way we can be sure that it will be in perfect condition, in the unlikely event you decide not to go with it.”

“But you won't do that,” Jenny says with the kind of confidence I'll probably never have when it comes to things of fashion or big price tags.

“That's right,” agrees Joy. “You won't do that.”

The two of them laugh about this, then Jenny and I climb out, and after thanking Joy, we wave good-bye.

“I feel like I've been through the wedding wringer today,” I admit as we trudge up the stairs.

“I think we should order a pizza up to our room,” suggests Jenny.

I turn and look at her and wonder if this is really Jenny. “Seriously?”

She kind of laughs. “Yeah, all this shopping makes me hungry.”

So our pizza comes, and we get out all of the brides'
magazines. We spread them all over the floor and study the styles of bridesmaid dresses that would best go with the dress that's riding home in the trunk of Josh's mother's BMW.

It's not until Jenny has gone to sleep and I'm recording all this into my diary that I know I have made a big mistake. But I'm so tired I can't even totally remember how it happened. And there is no way I can figure out how I'm going to undo it. So I just pray.

I feel slightly depressed
as Jenny and I walk over to the church service. Fortunately, she doesn't even seem to notice as she talks about a bridesmaid dress that she discovered in one of my magazines this morning.

“It's so perfect,” she tells me. “Very sleek and classic, and it's actually from Macy's, so it might not be too expensive.”

I listen as she goes back and forth about the color, trying to decide why lilac or yellow might work better than pink. And I try to respond as if I'm paying attention, but all I can think is that I made a big mistake yesterday by allowing Josh's mother to purchase that dress.

The sermon in church is actually pretty good, and I find I'm feeling a little better as we walk back to the dorm, except that it's starting to rain.

“What a dreary day,” Jenny says as she pulls her scarf over her head.

“A good day to just stay inside and catch up on homework.”

“Or sleep.”

And so after some lunch at the deli, that's exactly what we do. But later in the afternoon, the ringing of the phone wakes me from my nap. It turns out to be Josh, and he sounds very happy.

“The workathon was a huge success,” he tells me after we've made our significant small talk about missing each other and how long it's going to be until next weekend.

“What happened? How did it go?”

“It was great. It's like it couldn't have gone any better. I was surprised when practically everyone in the youth group showed up. They'd all gotten lots of sponsors to pay so much per hour. And by the time we quit, almost everyone had worked about twenty hours total.”

“You must be tired.”

“It was really fun though. I'd put up some posters at the senior center and a couple of grocery stores. And you should've seen how many people signed up. Of course, who turns down free labor? Mostly, we did yard work for elderly and shut-ins, things like raking leaves, cleaning gutters, taking down screens. But the kids were awesome.”

“That's so cool, Josh.”

“And then we treated the kids to a pizza party at the church, and I sort of calculated how much money
we'd raised, you know, once the pledges come in. I couldn't believe that it was nearly two thousand dollars! I did some quick mental math, and based on the average number of kids at the dump, we made enough money to feed them for most of the winter. Can you believe that? Well, the kids thought it was pretty cool.”

“That's awesome.”

We talk some more, and since Josh was enjoying such a high about his successful fund-raiser, I didn't have the heart to tell him about the disappointing shopping day I'd had with his mother. I knew it could wait. Or maybe I could even e-mail him about it later.

It was only after I hung up that it occurred to me that the same amount of money these high school kids raised-enough to feed ten to fifteen starving Mexican children for several months-was about the same cost as the wedding dress I'd been talked into purchasing yesterday. And the idea of this just made me feel sick.

Jenny is still asleep and I decide to take a walk since the weather had cleared slightly. And as I walk, I pray. I ask for God to guide me through this whole wedding thing. More than anything, I want our wedding to honor God. And I know that my actions yesterday were not heading in that direction.

It's funny too, because I'm not the kind of girl who everyone can push around so easily. I mean, I'll admit that I like to make people happy and I sometimes try too hard to help others. But I don't usually compromise my own standards or convictions along the way. Still, I can
see how it will be challenging with Josh's mom. She's such a strong and persuasive person. A little like a steamroller. I guess I just need to learn to stand up to her. Not aggressively, but kindly and in love.

Finally, I come to my favorite thinking and praying bench, and although it's still wet, I sit down. The sermon at church today was about laying things down on God's altar. The Scripture was from the time when Abraham had to take Isaac up to the mountain as a sacrifice. Now I'm familiar with this story, and it's not the first time I've had to put something on God's altar. In fact, there was a time when I had to place Josh there. But today I know, as clearly as I know my own name, that I need to place our wedding on God's altar. I need to give all my hopes and dreams and expectations to God. I need to lay the perfect dress and location and reception and music and invitations and decorations…all on God's altar.

I sit there for a long time, with the dampness from the bench soaking right into my jeans, and I imagine myself doing just this. I see myself placing the whole bundle of satin and lace and roses and pastel colors and veils and shoes all on the altar. And then I lift up the knife and I kill them. God doesn't even send in an alternative sacrifice (like he did for Abraham) to stop me. I just kill them.

The funny thing is that I feel better when these wedding dreams are dead. I don't care if there's blood all over the white satin. It's just a huge relief. And as I stand up and thank God for this revelation, I imagine
myself wearing a gunnysack dress and carrying a dandelion bouquet as I walk down the aisle toward Josh. And I am perfectly fine with this. All that I want is God's will.

I call the Miller house on my cell phone then. I'm ready to tell Joy that as much as I appreciate her help and input, I know without a doubt that the dress needs to be returned. Period. No discussion. I will apologize for the inconvenience and even explain how I want this wedding to be God directed. But I will be firm.

To my surprise Josh answers. “It's you.”

He laughs. “Caitlin?”

“Yes, I'm sorry. I guess I expected your mom to answer.”

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed now, and I feel bad.

“Not that I don't want to talk to you.”

“Oh, good. The parents are out at the moment.”

“It's just that I needed to talk to your mom.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Sort of.” And so I tell him the humiliating story of how I was a total pushover yesterday. I even tell him about lunch, and how I was hungry after grazing on greens. “That probably didn't help anything.”

Of course, he's laughing now. “Poor Caitie. But good grief, girl. What is wrong with you? You do NOT need to lose any weight. You are absolutely perfect the way you are.”

“Really?”

“Would I lie to you?”