Chapter 29
29
As soon as we’re done with the rehearsal, I peel off from the bridal party. I want to put as much distance between myself and Ethan as possible. I quickly make my way back to my mother and the golem. They’re sitting at a little café table now, tucked into the corner of the rooftop bar. The golem has positioned himself so he’s facing me. His eyes are moving steadily from my mother, to me, to somewhere behind me—wherever Ethan is, I’m guessing. My mother’s back is to me, and when the golem gives a slight nod, she turns to look at me and I’m stunned to see that she’s crying.
She’s not making a big show of it. As she dabs at her eye, anyone else passing by might assume she was just experiencing some mild allergies, or maybe some sweet wedding-related emotions. But the red rimming the interior of her lids, the slight drop of her nose, and the wet sheen to her eyes tell another story.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says, giving me a watery smile. “Paul, here—well. I tell you what. He’s a very good listener.”
“Mrmmm,” says the golem, reverting to his original rumbling, since he probably doesn’t know any words appropriate to this situation. He looks at me, assessing. I want to assure him that I’m fine, and not to go into protector mode, but I find my attention drawn to my mother.
“I’m—glad you two had a nice chat,” I say. “Is there anything you want to...?”
I trail off, and she shakes her head, eyes already drying. When neither of us takes the conversation any further, I feel disappointed. Like I just missed out on a significant moment. A moment that somehow Paul Mudd was able to experience, instead of me. My mother grabs for her purse, checks her makeup, reapplies color to her lips.
“We should head to the dinner,” she says, twisting the cap back on the lipstick.
The guests at this rehearsal dinner all fall into one of three distinct and equally terrible categories: people I’ve never met (Ana’s guests), people I’ve met once or twice and should know their names but mostly don’t (friends of Rosie’s, Ana’s immediate family, and so forth), and a wider swath than I’d anticipated of my own extended family, most of whom I haven’t seen since Dad’s funeral.
Absolute nightmare.
Servers are floating around with flutes of champagne on elegant silver serving trays. I take a glass for myself, and one for the golem. When he shakes his head, I’m confused. He liked the wine at The Book Cellar. Why doesn’t he want a drink now? I try once more to offer him the glass, but again, he firmly shakes his head. I consider telling him he has to drink it, to see if he’ll follow my orders, but what would be the point?
So I hand the glass to my mother, who takes it but doesn’t sip. She’s looking around, her expression impossible to read. I wonder if she’s looking for someone in particular, a cousin she was hoping to see here tonight, someone from her synagogue maybe? Whoever she’s hoping to spot in the crowd doesn’t seem to be there. After a moment, she turns and smiles at me and the golem.
“Well, you two should mingle,” she says.
“Mingle?” I say, confused.
“Yes, yes, go on,” says my mother. “Introduce Paul to people.”
“I don’t know half the people here.”
“Oh, you know most of the people here.”
“I really don’t.”
“There’s Layla, you know her.”
I try very hard not to roll my eyes. Yes, I know Rosie’s best friend. The beautiful fitness instructor who dropped out of a doctoral program, meaning she’s smart and pretty. Maybe her fatal flaw is that she’s bad at follow-through, being a dropout and all; then again, she was really on the ball with all the bridal party stuff. She hasn’t just been my sister’s go-to person for the wedding, but for everything lately. All things considered, I’m pretty sure I hate her.
But before I can protest, my mother has shoved Paul and me toward Layla.
“Eve, hey,” Layla says when she sees me, offering a tentative smile. Then she aims a more genuine grin at my golem. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name...?”
“This is Paul,” I say. “Paul, Layla.”
He nods. She beams.
“Nice to meet you, Paul,” she says, then gives me an almost-friendly wink. “The surprise wedding date, huh?”
Evidently Rosie must convey her every annoyance with me to her best friend.
“Yep,” I say. “He’s quite the surprise.”
“Hard to believe the big day’s really here, huh?” Layla asks. “I love your dress, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I say, biting my tongue to keep from telling her it’s the same dress I wore to my father’s funeral and seeing what that might do to her perky smile. “I love yours, too.”
In stark contrast to my long-sleeved black wool “spinster sister” number, Layla is wearing a bright blue cocktail dress with one large white flower flowing across her sculpted brown shoulder. It’s probably designer, but the girl would look good in a sack. Being a fitness instructor is one of those convenient careers that allows you to get in your own workout while earning your money, all at once. No need to hit the gym after the office, when your office is the gym. Her shining black hair is in an elegant low ponytail, the sort of style that would look messy on me but is elegant without being fussy on her. She delicately touches the flower on her dress.
“Oh, thanks, I borrowed it.” Layla looks around, like she’s trying to find someone. Eyes landing on her target, she starts frantically waving at a handsome Indian man standing in line at the bar. “Sorry, that’s my husband, Amir. He’s just—Honey, are you almost...?”
He gestures that he’s about to put in an order for the both of them, and that she should just wait there. A brief look of panicked disappointment crosses Layla’s face. She doesn’t want to talk to me, either, I realize. But she’s better at faking it than I am, and within a fraction of a second, she’s recovered and is beaming at us again.
“Hey, so Paul! Tell me everything! What do you do, how did you two meet—”
“He works in security,” I say quickly, providing a reasonably accurate answer to one of her questions. “And oh, hey, I think I see my great-uncle over there. Wow, I haven’t seen Uncle Ira in years! If you’ll excuse us, so sorry—”
“Oh no, totally fine,” says Layla, clearly relieved at our parting.
I drag the golem toward my imaginary uncle until we’re far enough away from Layla that I can drop his hand and grab a cloth napkin at a nearby table. I dab at my temples, and resist the urge to swab my armpits. I’m so sweaty. The combination of nerves, wool dress, and overheated venue is deadly.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I say aloud.
“Eve...safe?”
Paul Mudd is looking down at me with expressionless black eyes.
“I... Yeah, I’m safe. It’s just...”
It’s just that I never feel safe , I think. Not on trains. Not at work. Not around my family. Not anywhere, not ever.
But then I look up at the golem, and something clicks into place. My fears are unfounded, at least for the moment. He’s not going to let anyone hurt me. With him at my side, I don’t have to fear anything—not even others’ judgment of my life. He’s passing at this party far better than I thought he would—he’s charmed my mother, managed not to set off my sister, been civil to everyone...hell, he’s doing better here than I am.
I’m safe.
I have Paul.
A server passes by, and before she can even say Would you care for a— I’ve grabbed two glasses of champagne from her tray. I turn as if I’m about to hand one to the golem, then down them both myself.
An hour later, we’re the life of the party. Well, I am, anyway, and my golem is unwaveringly at my side. I’ve chatted with relatives I barely remember—it turns out I do have an uncle Ira!—and made nice with all five of the other women in Rosie’s bridal party. I even scored an invitation to one of their summer cabins in Wisconsin.
While I’m a little lightheaded from the champagne, I’m still clear-eyed enough to avoid Ethan. I don’t want to find out what would happen if he made another pass at me while the golem was in earshot. I also mostly avoid my mother and my sister, because I don’t want either of them to give me any static about how much I’m drinking.
But when I turn around in search of another friendly tray-bearing server, I instead find myself nose to nose with Rosie.
“Eve,” she says. “I need your keys.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your keys,” she says impatiently. “I want to take your car to Mom’s place tonight. It’ll be safer to park it in Winnetka than in the city—I don’t want someone to break in and steal all the wine. Besides, it doesn’t seem like you should be driving tonight anyway.”
I glare at her.
“I’m fine to drive,” I say, even though I know I’m not. And I wouldn’t drive drunk, but I also don’t like being called out by my baby sister.
“No, you’re not,” says my mother, appearing out of nowhere.
She looks up at the golem, then leads me away from him. Being courteous, trying not to shame me in front of my date, I guess. Rosie follows, hot on our heels and mad as hell.
“You’re drunk,” says my sister.
“I am not—”
“Have you even had anything to eat tonight, Eve?” Mom interrupts.
“Since when do you want me to eat?” I ask, and my mother looks slapped.
“Maybe Paul can drive them home...” Ana says, appearing out of nowhere. I hadn’t even noticed her approaching this confrontation. Bad choice on her part to get involved. This has nothing to do with her.
“Paul doesn’t drive,” I snap.
“And we need all the stuff in her car anyway,” Rosie says to Ana, before returning her petulant gaze to mine. “So get a Lyft home, or take the train, whatever. But give me your keys. You’re not driving.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to get to the wedding tomorrow without a car?” I ask. “I can’t take a Lyft out to the middle of fucking nowhere. There’s no train that goes out to the camp. You want me to just stay home? Skip the wedding? I will, if that’s what you want.”
Rosie stares at me, wide-eyed.
“Eve,” my mother says softly. “That’s enough. I’ll come get you tomorrow.”
“I still don’t think—” I start to protest, but my mother is already leading me back to the golem, who has been watching our entire exchange from a respectful distance.
“Paul, it’s getting late,” says my mother, gesturing him over. I glower at her. It’s barely six thirty. “I’m going to head to services, and I’d appreciate it if you could just go ahead and get our girl home safe.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I snap.
“Safe,” the golem agrees, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Are you seriously sending me home? The room’s booked for another hour,” I say. “The party isn’t over. I should be here. I’m the maid of honor.”
“ Now you’re the maid of honor,” Rosie mutters.
“I think you should get some rest,” says my mother, giving a quick glance to my sister. At first I think maybe she’s glaring at her on my behalf, for her sarcastic remarks. But when I look at Rosie, I see that she’s crying. What the hell is she crying about?
“Fine,” I say, digging around furiously in my little black clutch. I shove the keys at my sister. Then, with a small stab of satisfaction, I also toss the garage ticket at her. “You have to pay when you exit.”
I turn on my heel, knowing the golem will follow me. When we get outside, the cold air sears my lungs. I realize I left my coat in the car, and won’t be able to get it until my mother comes to collect us from my house tomorrow. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering.
Then I feel the golem envelop me, protecting me from the cold. His embrace is sturdy, muscular, providing a solid barrier against the elements. I lean my head against his chest, breathing in the earthy scent of him.
Emotions are surging through me, but they’re too raw for me to even categorize. I’m not crying, and I don’t want to cry. It’s so rare that I just let loose and enjoy myself. I’d been having a good time up until my mother and sister staged their mean little intervention. I’m not ready to call it a night. I want to keep having a good time. I’m all dressed up. I have a date. I don’t have my car, but I have my Ventra card and we’re only a block from the train. I want to go out. I want to have fun.
And that’s when I remember the office river cruise.