54. Jenna
JENNA
“ Y ou can’t be serious.”
“They have a gizzard,” McCarthy tells me as Edwina clucks at my feet. “Edwina does nothing except eat rocks, so the ring was ground up. You should have let me turn her into Sunday dinner.”
“I protected you, and this is how you repay me?” I scold the bird.
“You’re the one who wants to keep these things as pets.”
“Where’s my Stanley cup?” Bleary-eyed, I peer around. “I’m dehydrated.”
McCarthy sighs and hands it to me.
I fish a Benadryl out of the little pouch.
“Your mom made more mint poultice for you.” Hannah comes over with a jar of goopy, oily green sludge.
I empty the liquid gel in my mouth as Hannah smears the foul-smelling poultice on my rashy face .
“Don’t look at me,” I say to McCarthy with a groan.
“In sickness and in mildly okay health.” He kisses my forehead. “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met who’s allergic to salmonberries.”
“Why would anyone even test for that? It’s not a common fruit.”
“I like salmonberry jam.”
I glare at McCarthy through puffy eyes. “Not anymore, you don’t.”
“At least you didn’t put it in your vagina.” Hannah pats my shoulder gingerly. Very gingerly because running around outdoors in the buff leads to sunburns in inopportune places.
“Aloe vera.” Zephyr offers me a wedge of the sticky, goopy plant.
“Jenna, you should bring your PR clients here more often!” my mother exclaims, draping a string of flowers around Salinger’s girlfriend.
“No, Mom. Mandy’s not here as a client. She’s here under duress.”
“This is so lovely!” Mandy admires the compound. “You should host weddings here.”
“We should!” Willow beams at me.
“You all really didn’t have to come, but it’s really nice of you to do so,” I tell McCarthy’s brothers.
“Damn right they needed to come,” Granny Mavis declares. “There’s a severe lack of testosterone in this commune.”
“They’re all family now.” My mom buzzes around.
“I’ll sleep with family if they look like that.” Granny Mavis passes out mead.
Mom looks every bit the bride with flowers woven in her honey hair and a handmade dress with just a sheer slip underneath it. No bra, no undies, because this is a commune, after all.
Meanwhile, I look like Shrek’s older, puffier sister.
“You said you were going to a cult wedding,” Salinger says flatly. “I’m not letting you get kidnapped.”
“This isn’t a cult,” McCarthy tells his brother. “It’s like a retirement community.”
“All volunteer driven,” Zephyr says cheerfully. He has new bells and beads in his beard for the occasion.
“They have amazing honey,” Mandy says. “Look at that!”
McCarthy’s dog, freshly washed, sports a garland of flower that matches the one Truman is wearing. Truman also wears a little white vest because I have standards.
The dachshund sits on McCarthy’s foot.
Rainbow blows her French horn.
“It is time.” Crocus spreads her arms, the lavender-colored, gauzy kaftan flapping in the breeze. She, too, is wearing nothing underneath.
I clutch my Stanley cup and sip it. The wine cooler I have in it is giving me warm, fuzzy feelings that numb the sunburn and the fact that McCarthy’s family’s first impression of my family is this effigy to West Coast lunacy.
“Goddess,” Crocus warbles.
I wince as the yodeling starts, along with the banging of Tibetan metal bowls.
“Is this a singing wedding?” McCarthy’s brother Hawthorne hisses.
McCarthy kicks him.
“I’m not complaining, just…”
I make a face as Rainbow joins the yodeling and stoically drink my wine cooler .
Rainbow has Zephyr and my mom clasp hands while Rainbow shakes a pinecone at them and chants in Sanskrit.
“This is some hippie bullshit.” Granny Mavis takes a swig of mead then passes it around.
“I think it’s lovely.” Mandy clasps her hands.
“Willow,” Zephyr announces, gazing at my mom, “you make me one with the universe. I turn to you like a sunflower to a moonbeam. I am blessed that in space and time, our two souls have found one another.”
“Zephyr.” My mom looks up at him adoringly. Her skin is perfect and dewy. She looks happy, taken care of. “You are the harmony to my melody, the rainwater to my garden. You are life eternal.”
Rainbow carefully laces a chain of fresh jasmine around their hands. “I join you under the goddess.”
We applaud. Hannah and Mandy sniffle as the two kiss.
Zephyr beckons me up.
“Oh no, I—”
“Come on.” He and my mom each grab my arms so we make a circle.
“Jenna, you’re our favorite person in the world. Though I’m not your birth father—”
“The fact that you didn’t use the term ‘sperm giver’ means you’re my favorite person here,” I whisper to him.
“I still hope I can be a mentor and maybe a father figure to you one day,” he says solemnly. “I’m here for you as a vessel of love if you need it.”
“Thanks, Zephyr,” I say and sincerely mean it. “You have been there for me even when I didn’t ask or think I needed it. I’m really glad your souls found each other in the great ocean of life. ”
Rainbow wraps my wrist in the braided chord of flowers. “And we have now made a family.”
Zephyr and my mom give me a hug, and my mom kisses my cheek.
Aaand I’m crying.
“I love weddings,” I sob.
“I know!” Hanna wraps her arms around me.
“McCarthy.” My mother beckons to him. “Let’s both get married today. We can be double brides—mother-daughter bonding!”
“Whoo!” Hannah yells drunkenly.
“I whittled extra rings,” Zephyr offers, eyes twinkling.
“Let’s do it,” McCarthy whispers to me. “Just to piss off my brother.”
I pull down my sunglasses and glare at the wedding guests.
“Do you see this?” I wheeze, because my throat is half swollen. “I’m not getting married looking like this. I don’t care how much I love you.”
McCarthy snickers and kisses the top of my hair. “I love you even if you are swollen and puffy. I’d marry you just like this.”
McCarthy’s little brother Faulkner looks between us. “I don’t think the engagement ring’s going to fit on her finger.”
“You were going to propose to me like this?” I screech.
“Your mom thought it would be fun, and in my defense, I didn’t realize the allergic reaction was going to get this bad.”
I start crying. “Can I at least see the ring?”
Faulkner pulls the box out of his pocket.
“It’s beautiful,” I sob. “My fingers are too swollen for it. ”
McCarthy kisses the corner of my mouth gingerly then ties the ring on the daisy chain and slips it around my neck.
“Jenna, will you make me fiancé number four?”
“Yes,” I croak.
“Don’t worry. I have a ten-step plan for your proposal. I’ll do the PR version when your eyes aren’t so crusted over.”
I groan, leaning against his chest.
At my feet, chickens gather.
Hannah eases the chain of flowers off my neck. “I’m just going to take this before you lose it.”