19. Helen
When Abby was eight, she left my art kit out on the front porch, and the neighbor’s cat puked on it. The pencils, the eraser, and even the sheet paper, it was all ruined. Soaked clean through.
We had to just throw it all away.
The look on her face that morning, when she came to confess that she’d left it out. . . She looked just like she does right now.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you remember when you hated Steve and thought he was ruining my life?” Her eyes brighten up, and her whole face shifts. I hate how she can do that. Hide her guilt and beam in a believable way. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d think I had imagined the whole guilt part entirely.
“What did you do?” I narrow my eyes. “Don’t act all chipper and put a spin on it.”
“Mom called,” she says. “She does that an annoying amount lately, probably because she and Dad have discovered Face Time and now they want to see Nate, like, biweekly.”
I groan. “Mom?”
“I hadn’t told the kids they couldn’t say anything about the wedding, and Izzy?—”
I drop my face in my hands. “You must be kidding me,” I mumble into my palms. “Abbbbby!”
“She’s flying in tonight, and she’s really, really excited to come dress shopping with us.” She grimaces.
“I’m going to kill her.” I straighten.
“Wait, you’re going to kill me?” Abby asks. “Or her?”
“Both of you, probably.” My sister has now gone full-wedding-planner on me, bringing me bridal magazines—which I didn’t know still existed—and texting me with flower arrangements and bridesmaid dresses. “While we’re on the subject, I will have exactly one bridesmaid.” I glare. “You.”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t work that way. David actually has friends, so you have to come up with a bridesmaid for every one of his groomsmen.”
“Absolutely not.”
She’s nodding. “And you need to pick colors that will fit the season. Since you’re in a hurry, I’d suggest you choose fall tones. That’s why I’ve been sending you mums and marigolds and?—”
“I will not have marigolds in any part of my wedding.”
Abby laughs.
I wish I could bottle up her laughter for a hard day. It’s like the bubbles in champagne. It’s like the glimmer on the top of snow after a blizzard. It’s that little drop when your plane is descending that you didn’t expect.
“Why can’t you be my only bridesmaid? You’re the only person I really like.”
“Other than David,” Abby says. “And there’s about to be one more.” Her eyes well up with tears again. It was cute the first time, but does she really have to cry every single time she thinks about my baby?
“He might be a total brat.”
“She might be an absolute angel.”
“Or a devil,” I say.
“You’re right. He’ll probably take after his mother and be practically demonic.” Abby’s smiling again, swiping at the errant tears. “I just can’t wait to find out. I hope she’s a total Helen, ordering people around and turning her teachers on their heads.”
“I never did that,” I say. “I was a delight to instruct.”
“Tell that to the five teachers you got fired.”
“I only did that to incompetent ones,” I mutter. “And of course they’d complain. Their attitude was the problem.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do. I hired you the best wedding planner in America, and she quit. I hired the second best, and you fired her.”
“I’ve never settled for second best.”
“You’re going to offer that first one double what we were paying her, and then you’re going to listen to everything she tells you to do. Because if you don’t do that, we’ll never make this happen in the next two weeks, even though you own two resorts in the area. And we can’t delay this if you’re still insisting on wearing that black monstrosity.”
“It’s not a monstros—” I sigh. “Do you really think it’s a bad gown for a wedding?”
“I think you should wear whatever makes you feel beautiful for your wedding,” Abby says. “I may not understand it, but we’ll make it work. It will be visually stunning, and if your in-laws and the world all think it’s going to spell the doom of your marriage, well, you’ll prove them wrong.”
“I’ve been proving people wrong my entire life. What’s one more round of it?”
“I did have an idea for a way to kind of. . .” Abby pauses. “Jazz it up.”
“Jazz?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure what word to use. Bling?”
That’s not promising, but before I can let her tell me her strange plan and shut it down, a car pulls down her drive. With rental car plates. “When did you say Mom was coming?” I ask.
She glances at her watch. “She said eight o’clock. I just assumed. . .” But it’s almost eleven in the morning, and it looks like Mom meant that she would land in Salt Lake at eight a.m. Because she’s now climbing out of the beige sedan and striding toward us with her best “that guy isn’t getting tenure” expression.
Abby puts Nathan down and hands him a toy before she opens the door, gesturing Mom through. As if she doesn’t even see Abby, Mom marches straight up to me. “Well, I heard you had bugs in your house, and that man finally convinced you to marry him, and it was not a good time, what with fall midterms, but I had to get on a plane.” She drops her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe that we came out here to save your sister, and she managed to drag you down instead.”
I hardly need my mother’s approval, but I’m a little surprised. Didn’t Abby say she was excited?
“Mom,” Abby says. “What on earth are you saying?”
“Your sister was the top of her field. She was remarkable.” She sighs. “And now you’re telling me that she’s being well and truly shackled. That stupid ring David gave you was prophetic.”
“I mean, it was an engagement ring,” Abby says. “You can’t really be that shocked that she’s actually getting married.”
Mom leans over and runs her hand down the side of the black gown that’s hanging from the fireplace mantle. “Please tell me this is the wedding dress.” Mom’s smirk irritates me.
“Yes,” Abby says.
“No,” I say. It was going to be, until Mom looked at it like it was the perfect gown—a symbol of how our marriage is doomed.
“No?” Abby and Mom say in tandem.
“We’re going shopping for the most beautiful white wedding dress you’ve ever seen. And I’m going to be the most stunning, classic, savagely happy bride you have ever seen.” I cross my arms. “David isn’t shackling me. He’s made me happier than I’ve ever been. The ring was a joke, because he gets me.” I can’t help muttering, “Unlike you.”
“The next thing I hear, you’ll be telling me you’re having a petri dish set of triplets or something equally ridiculous,” Mom says. “Mark my words. If you go through with this, you’ll regret it, and then the divorce will just waste even more time and resources.”
“I actually am pregnant, Mom, and it took that to wake me up. You and I can think whatever we want, but being the top of my field never made me as happy as Abby is when she holds her little baby or when she cheers for her daughters on horses.”
Mom steps closer. “But you’re not like Abby, are you? You’re like me, and holding a baby never made me happy.”
Her words lodge in my chest like a sword through the heart. Is she right? What if she’s right? What if I have this baby and I resent it? What if it ruins my life, and I spend the next few years slogging my way through a horrible divorce? Great people become harpies in divorces, and I’m not that great to begin with.
Abby’s usually the kind one. She’s usually the sister who smooths things over, who bakes cookies, and who holds and calms a distressed child.
But not right now.
No, right now, she’s holding a rolled-up fashion magazine and brandishing it like it’s an iron spike-studded club. “Get out, or I swear I will beat you to death with this oversized special edition of The Knot, and there’s no judge on earth that will convict me, because you’re the worst kind of mother.” She steps toward Mom.
Mom backs up, eyeing the magazine as if she’s not sure whether Abby’s serious.
“I mean it.” Abby takes another step. “You said yourself that you’ve been a terrible mom, and it’s true. We don’t mind you coming around sometimes, because it’s not like you left us in a box on the steps of an orphanage or something, but you will not fill Helen’s beautiful brain with your toxic filth. So if you can’t keep your garbage mouth shut, then get out and don’t come back.”
Mom blinks.
“And I won’t call you so you can talk to Nathan or send you more videos, either.” Abby’s eyes are flashing. She looks like that scene when Maleficent transforms into the dragon, ready to strike with righteous indignance and razor sharp. . .magazine pages.
“She can stay,” I say, fighting back tears.
Abby turns her stony glare on me. “And you.” She shakes her head. “Not a single word of that was true. You took care of me when she didn’t, and you always made me feel loved. You’re not broken like that.” She shakes the magazine at me. “Delete all that crap from your brain right now.”
That’s it. Now I’m crying.
The stupid baby has already broken me.
“Oh, no.” Abby drops the magazine and falls to her knees to hug me.
“I should go,” Mom says.
Abby doesn’t turn to stop her. She doesn’t say a word.
“Wait,” I say. “It’s fine.”
Abby shoots to her feet. “No, it’s not fine.” She has relinquished her grasp on the club, its brightly colored pages now fanned out across the floor, but she still looks more than ready for a fight. “You can stay. . .if you apologize.”
My sister is delusional if she thinks?—
“I’m sorry.” Mom doesn’t look very contrite, with the muscle pumping in her jaw, but she did say the words.
“For what?” Abby asks.
Mom’s eyes dart sideways.
“You’re sorry for telling Helen that it wasn’t a great idea to marry the kind, generous, and hard-working man who loves her.” Abby arches an eyebrow.
“Sure,” Mom says.
“And you’re sorry that you didn’t squeal with joy that your smartest, richest, most successful daughter is going to have a baby.” Abby narrows her eyes. “Say it this time.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t congratulate you.” It may sound like she’s biting down on every single word, unwilling to let them fly out into the world, but she does say it. “It’s wonderful you’re having a baby.”
“Try it without looking like you’re sucking on a lemon,” Abby says.
I stand up. “It’s fine. That was pretty good progress.”
Abby’s suppressing a smile, which is good. Mom has come further than I’d have thought possible, but if we start laughing at her, I can tell she’d storm out. “I guess,” Abby concedes.
“Also, it’s good to know that if your daughter ever loses her law license, she can probably find a job as a bouncer.” I arch one eyebrow.
“A bouncer?” Abby pulls a face. “I thought I was putting off more of an, ‘I’m Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die,’ vibe. No?” Abby sighs. “I’m grabbing a fireplace poker next time. The magazine was closer, but that was a mistake.”
“Eh, it was close. The poker would have helped.” Thanks to her, I’m smiling now.
Three hours later, I’m with Mom, Abby, and Izzy, whom Abby pulled out of school early for this trip, and we’re in Vegas—the beauty of owning a jet—and they’re all watching as I try on dress after dress after dress.
I’m wearing a Versace with a single off-the shoulder bodice when Abby shakes her head. “They’ve all been lovely, but. . .”
“What?” I bite my lip. “Do I look fat already?”
Izzy laughs.
“Why is that funny?” I frown.
“You make half the kids in my high school look fat, Aunt Helen,” Izzy says. “You have the self-control of an army of monks.”
“Are there monk armies?” Mom asks. “Because I thought they were pacifists.”
“They’re all lovely,” Abby says, clearly trying to keep us focused. “But none of these are quite right.”
“Why not?” The dress attendant looks downright irritated.
“You need to wear that black dress,” Abby says. “That’s the one that made you say yes.” She shrugs. “It’s the right one.”
“A black dress?” the attendant asks. “Are you kidding?”
“My aunt is epic,” Izzy says. “Boring wedding rules don’t apply to her.”
As if a teenager saying that makes it true, I realize Abby’s right. I wanted what I wanted, and I was made to feel small. But now that I’m here, I realize that I had reasons. I am who I am.
I’m epic.
I can wear that black dress if I want to, and that’s the one that made me feel ready to have a baby and marry David. So what if no one else understands? So what if they think it spells our doom? I know the truth and no one’s opinion matters. Well, David’s.
And maybe Abby’s a little.
But she gets it now.
On the plane ride home, with the help of Abby, Izzy, and occasionally my mother, I choose my bridesmaids. David had texted that he had four groomsmen picked out, but he assumed we’d also include Steve. I stress out about it for a while, but in the end, I give up. I’m not including Amanda—she went on dates with David, for heaven’s sake. Donna liked him, so she’s out too. I wind up choosing Mandy, Izzy, and Whitney. Abigail will be my matron of honor, and as long as Steve doesn’t throw a git, that’s enough. If David wants to, we can include Beth and Ethan. My superhumanly loyal nephew hasn’t wavered once in his affection, so I’m assuming she’ll be around for quite some time.
Izzy’s writing this all down on a notepad, and she bursts out laughing.
“What?” I ask.
“So in the wedding, we all walk down the aisle, right?” She lifts her eyebrows.
“Right,” I say. “Then you stand next to us as they marry us.” Now I’m worried. Am I missing something? “That’s what Abby said.”
“That’s right, I think,” Izzy says. “And you said that David’s groomsmen are his best friend from college, a friend from business school, and two old friends from Korea, right?”
I nod.
“That means they’re all roughly his age.” Izzy’s smirking still.
“Oh.” It hits me why she’s laughing.
“You’ll be putting your married sister next to one, her two kids by the other two, and a grandma by the last one.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I say. “They just have to stand next to them for photos.” But now I’m smiling too, because Mandy is going to throw a fit.
“Can I be there when you tell Mandy?” Izzy asks. “I actually feel sorry for that guy she’s walking next to. Can you imagine all the jokes she’s going to make?”
I can, and for the first time, as I chat with my niece, I can actually picture the wedding. It will be messy. People will complain. Abby might grab a poker, though I hope she doesn’t impale anyone, and it’ll be mine.
I’m smiling as the plane lands outside of sleepy little Manila, and I realize that, in spite of my mom coming, in spite of a pregnancy I didn’t want, in spite of a lot of things. . . I may be more excited right now for my future than I ever have been in my life.
I’m certainly surrounded by more people who love me than ever before. I’m starting to realize that the two things may even be connected.