24. Donna
No man is perfect, but I swear the ones who are awfully close always have a few things that they hide until after you’re married. In the case of my adorable husband, it’s that he likes to camp out on the toilet and read.
Sometimes for an hour.
I wish that was a huge exaggeration.
It is not.
“Will Earl, I love you to the moon and back, but if you don’t get out of that bathroom right now, I’m going to cut off your big toe.”
He shoots out, yanking his pants up as he hops. “Why my big toe?”
“What else could I cut off? You wouldn’t care about the small ones.” I’m smiling as I shove the book basket back into the corner. “You can read all you want, but stop doing it in my bathroom. Capice?”
“It’s the only time Aiden doesn’t walk in on me every five minutes.”
He’s not wrong about that, but I wish he was. Aiden has gotten progressively more annoying, probably because the house is now marinating in babies and their crap is just all over.
As if my thoughts summoned them, one of the babies starts to cry. I know good mothers are supposed to know who’s crying from the sound, but I swear Althea and Andrew made some pact up in heaven, and they sound exactly the same.
Andrew should be quieter, since he’s, you know, months and months younger. But the lungs on that kid are impressive. As if he’s already engaged in some kind of sibling rivalry, he’s made it his life’s purpose to out-scream her.
“I think that’s Althy,” Will says.
“I thought we decided not to call her that.”
“No, you decided I shouldn’t call her that. I never agreed.” He’s smiling as he dries his hands and heads out in a search and rescue party, calling back at me over his shoulder, “You almost ready to go?”
Before setting the time on their wedding, Helen actually texted me to find out whether there was a time that would be easier for me. As if there could be any time on Thanksgiving Day that would be convenient to attend a wedding when someone has two babies.
“We told them ten a.m.,” I say. “We can’t be late, and I know that. I’m almost done.”
But we were doomed from the start. When you have two babies, one of them is destined to poop right as you’re ready to go. And the one thing I didn’t think to do was buy two black dresses for my six-month-old, so when Althea’s diaper explodes, splattering poop all over her first one. . .I have limited options.
Our family does show up wearing black, as requested, except for Althea, who’s wearing her next-nicest outfit, a rose print, white floofy dress her grandmother bought her. As Will swings her car seat through the door of David’s retreat in Dutch John, I can’t help noticing that we stand out. Not me, and Will, and Aiden. Even Andrew looks pretty good in his little faux-tux.
But our bright white and pink baby looks like the fairy that showed up for Maleficent’s ball. For some reason, that thought really cheers me up. “This really is like Maleficent’s wedding,” I hiss.
Beth and Ethan hear me, and they start to laugh as well. “It so is,” Beth says. “And who does that make Althea? Is she Aurora?”
“Aurora?” Abby’s just walking through the door, and she’s clearly looking for someone, but we’ve distracted her, as usual. “Is there someone here named Aurora?”
Ethan’s laughing so hard that he can’t even explain, but Beth does.
To my surprise, Abby chuckles. “It is a little like Maleficent herself is getting married. She could have at least done something with her black wedding dress and bridesmaids’ dresses other than adding crimson as an accent color.” She’s still smiling when she snatches an enormous bloodred bouquet of roses out of a vase and ducks back through the door at the rear of the ballroom.
As I glance around us, I realize it’s not just the bridesmaids. Everything is black and red. It’s absolutely elegant, but it’s also pretty dark. The walls are draped in cloth as dark as pitch and then covered in the tiniest, cutest, pure white twinkle lights. Dark red floral arrangements drape dramatically down the middle of each panel. The aisle where Helen will presumably be walking is the only space that’s white, and the fabric walkway is so white, that I worry everyone will stain it black with the soles of their shoes.
At the front of the room, there’s a large raised platform, and it’s covered in more crimson roses than I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re also larger than any roses I’ve ever seen, all half-open, as if some insane florist stood over millions of red flowers, shouting, “No, no, no,” and then, “Off with their heads!” over every closed or open red rose that dared to exist.
Actually, knowing Helen, that might be precisely what happened. She’s got the kind of money that most of us can’t imagine, and she’s not afraid to spend it.
One of the side benefits to being a touch late is that we don’t have to wait around long before the orchestra—yes, a full orchestra on Thanksgiving Day—begins to play.
Andrew decides to fuss at all the new noise, loudly, so I have to pull him out of his car seat, which means I’m distracted for just a moment. By the time I have him on my lap and have the wherewithal to look up, Helen has nearly reached us.
Her dad’s not walking her down the aisle.
I should have expected this, but it’s Abby. Helen’s wedding gown is entirely black, and the dress is much simpler than I anticipated it would be. The skirt’s sheared, and asymmetrical, but it’s full too, almost like there’s a small petticoat underneath it. Her heels are predictably tall, and deep red. The bodice is simple, slightly asymmetrical as well, and the top’s beaded with something bright that’s sparkling like little red diamonds. They look like they’re cascading down the front, thicker at the top and splayed outward near the base of the bodice.
She’s holding the largest bouquet I have ever seen. The flowers Abby retrieved were clearly just a bridesmaid’s bouquet.
The contrast between Abby and Helen is a marked one. Abby’s wearing an almost identical dress, but it’s blindingly white. The same tiny, bright red stones sparkle across the bodice, also cascading down like they’re frosting dripping down the sides of a warm cake. Only, against the white gown, it’s clear what they are.
Rubies, or maybe garnets?
They must be one or the other.
It is Helen, after all.
And I won’t lie—the effect is visually stunning. When the two of them reach the front, Abby extends her arm, handing Helen off to David, who’s wearing a gorgeous black tux with a black shirt and a red tie that just matches Helen’s shoes and stone accents. He looks worthy of Helen, in all his haute glory. His tux is clearly made by some snooty designer, and his raven hair gleams in the light of the chandeliers overhead.
He’s also beaming as he helps Helen up the stairs and to his side.
As the rest of the wedding party works their way to the front, I can’t help admiring the contrasts Helen worked in. The first bridesmaid is Izzy, and she’s in black like Helen. The next one is Whitney, who’s in white like her mother. Beth is in black again, with Ethan on her arm, and finally Mandy stalks her way up the aisle, with not one, but two attractive groomsmen holding her arms like she might fall forward on her face any moment. Her white gown looks absolutely hilarious, like she’s part of some parody of a wedding for a comedy act.
Once she reaches the front, she yanks her arms free. “Thank you, young men. You’re nearly as steady as a walker, but you don’t listen as well.” Her eyes are flashing, and I can tell she’s loving this. Her scowl is just part of her act. I’m sure she’s complained convincingly through every step, all while everyone knows she’s enjoying it.
At least none of the bridesmaids other than Abby are sporting ruby-frosted bodices.
It makes me feel a little better about not being chosen that I didn’t miss out on forty thousand dollars’ worth of bling. I’m sure Helen left me out because I have a baby on both arms, but it’s a little depressing that everyone’s up there who comes to our girls’ nights other than me, and Mandy had two escorts. Helen really should have asked someone else. Amanda was out, since she and David dated, so that would be awkward in the extreme. She could have asked me, though. We could have left the babies with Will’s mother if she had.
“Welcome,” a very large, very black man says, pulling me out of my head. “The first time I ever met Helen, she started an argument with me about the ethics of insider trading.” He spreads his hands. “In fact, you might even say she single-handedly drove me into the clergy.”
The audience, which contains a lot of Helen and David’s business friends, chuckle.
“I never in a million years imagined that David Park, the kindest business student I ever taught as a professor at Harvard Business School, and Helen Fisher, the most cutthroat, would decide to marry. But here we are, proving that strange things you’d never imagine could be just around the corner, because God’s hand is everywhere doing His work.”
Helen and David are looking at each other like two kids staring at their Christmas stockings. It’s actually pretty cute.
“Sometimes, things we never imagined become one of the most amazing things we’ve ever witnessed. I spent some time chatting with these two in anticipation of marrying them. It was strange that they came to me, their former ethics professor turned pastor, but I feel quite flattered to have been asked. And after talking to them, I feel there have rarely been two people more ready for this sacred commitment.”
The rest of the ceremony’s pretty much more of the same, with him complimenting the two of them like they just created an endowment at Harvard in his name, and everyone in the audience eating it up. Finally, he asks them if they have vows to share.
“Of course,” Helen says, at the same time David says, “That’s not really our thing.”
Helen’s brow furrows, and it feels like the room actually darkens as a result of her displeasure. Maybe she is Maleficent.
Until David bursts out laughing. “Got you.”
When Helen cracks a small smile, the entire room takes a breath.
It feels like the market would plunge hundreds of points if he really had displeased her. I don’t envy him the future he chose. It stresses me out even thinking about it.
“I’ll go first,” she says.
“Of course you will, you overachiever.” But David clearly worships her.
“It’s to give you a few more minutes to make yours up,” she jokes. “But you know, that’s one of the things I love most about you. You don’t have to agonize over what to say when it’s time to speak. You always say the right thing at the right time, somehow. You always know, not just what I want to hear, but what I need to hear.”
Helen’s softer when she’s looking at David. Like a lion, gazing at her tamer.
“You’ve always known what we both need, together, and you’ve always been patient enough to wait for me to see it, too. But I think today, on the day we’re getting married, the only thing I need to say is this.” Helen pulls something out of her bodice. “You know that Abby spent four days drafting this up, and then you signed it without reading it. Now it’s my turn to do my part. I never did sign it.” Her lip curves slightly. “But today, I thought I’d do this.”
She takes what is presumably their prenuptial agreement. . .
And rips it in half.
“I don’t need contracts to keep me safe with you. I don’t need to protect my assets, however considerable they are. I had my sister Abby walk me down the aisle, because I hate the idea of my parents giving me to someone. But I love the idea that whereas before I had just her on my side, now I have you as well. I love the idea that our interests have just merged in a way that goes beyond corporations or stock values or anything else.” She drops her hand and entwines her fingers with his. “David Park, I promise that no matter how angry I get, or how scared I am, or how desperate I may be to close a deal, I will always be by your side, from now, until the end of my life.”
David cups her jaw with his hand and kisses her then, the whole audience in awe just a little.
It does feel like the lion tamer just stuck his head in the big beast’s mouth. I’m not the only one holding my breath. But he does release her, his face still intact, and then he starts talking. He never looks away from Helen, but we can still hear him, mostly.
I suppose looking away from a lion is a good way to get mauled.
“Helen Fisher, I’ve been in awe of you since you schooled Professor Sims on the production cost of her sample company on day one of Financial Accounting.” He shakes his head. “We all knew you were something special, but I had no idea quite how special.” He drops his voice. “Or that you’d ever look my way.”
“I almost didn’t,” Helen says.
“Thank goodness that idiot looked so bad that I looked good by comparison.” He runs a finger along her jawline and tucks a hair we can’t see back into the beautiful pile of curls on the top of her head. “You’ve shone like the sun since we first met, and I promise that, like the sun, I’ll always turn toward you as the center of my universe.”
When they kiss this time, it’s pretty epic.
“Get a room,” someone shouts.
It takes me a moment to realize it was their priest.
I’m not the only one laughing about that. A few moments later, when their ceremony’s finally done, Helen says, “Can I just throw the bouquet now? It’s so heavy that I don’t want to carry it for another minute.”
It’s not a shock to anyone in the room when Beth catches it, except for maybe Beth. She’s blushing so furiously that her face nearly matches the roses. Ethan’s family claps so loudly at her success that I almost feel bad for her, but I can’t. Not when she’s clearly being so warmly welcomed by a family that knows how to love outsiders.
If possible, the reception under the large tents outside is even more grandiose, and positioned so that just behind us, the Flaming Gorge is framed up in nearly every photo. With the massive heaters they’ve brought in, I’m not even cold. I’ll give Helen and David this. I know they planned this wedding in a few weeks, but it looks like they spent a year making every detail perfect. I suppose it’s no shock that two people who run resorts can plan a spectacular event.
Even the turkey, dressing, potatoes, and more pies than I could ever count are all perfect.
“I know this is usually my sister’s thing,” Helen says, as she stands in front of a stunning cake almost as tall as she is, frosted with a chocolate so dark it’s nearly black, and decorated with deep red blooms that cascade artfully down one side. “But since it’s my wedding, she says I have to do this.”
Abby’s rolling her eyes from behind the long table laden with exquisite food.
“I was going to hold this wedding a week before Thanksgiving in the hopes that my baby wouldn’t be showing yet.” Most of her business acquaintances gasp, but everyone in Manila has known for weeks. “But then I started to worry that some of you might try to stick around until Thanksgiving.”
People do laugh, which is a relief.
“But seriously, for years, almost every Thanksgiving, I would make the trek from wherever I was, to wherever Abigail and her family were. I knew I was welcome, and she always did all the heavy lifting of making this a holiday that we would enjoy. This year, since she has a baby, I thought I’d take some of the work off her plate.” She spreads her hands wide. “I’m happy all our friends and family chose to be here to celebrate and give thanks for the beautiful life David and I have chosen to make out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” David says. “And as a big thank you for all of you from the two of us, we’ve had the largest boxes we could acquire of chocolate covered cherries placed under every single dining chair.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he says it.
I remember Helen’s generous gift at Thanksgiving. . .that got everyone drunk. It’s also clear that Helen knew nothing about this part of their plan, because at first she looks a little annoyed. But when Abby starts laughing, Helen rolls her eyes.
“I’m sure there will be times I’ll regret getting married,” she says. “We regret even good things now and then—that’s human nature, to second guess. To regret. But when I do, I’ll look back on this beautiful wedding, and the joy David always brings with him to everything we do, and I’ll smile, because this year and probably every other year, being shackled to him is my greatest blessing in life.”
When he kisses her this time, everyone cheers.
And as soon as it quiets down, Gabe shouts, “Uncle David, do the cherries have beer in them this time?” The room is entirely silent, most people probably having no clue what he’s asking. “Or no?”
But as people realize that there’s a prior even the cherries are commemorating, the laughter starts, and it grows and grows.
“These are most definitely beer free,” David says. “And when you eat them, I hope they fill you with the same joy I have in this moment.”
And as I stuff my face with some of them later, they kind of do. But what’s even better is that when I grab a blanket and start to nurse Andrew, Althea notices. And she starts to cry. Once Andrew’s done, Will hands her to me so I can hold her up against my breast one more time, as I have done over and over without success.
This time, surrounded by people and sounds, she latches.
For the first time, I successfully nurse my darling baby girl, and after I’m done and I’m cleaned up and presentable again, she insists that I take her back. I rock her, in spite of the noise and chaos of the reception, or perhaps because of it, until she falls asleep on my chest.
Althea still cries more than most babies, and sometimes I still feel disconnected, but moments like this remind me that she’s my treasure. All our children are different, much as Helen and Abby looked just right in black and white respectively, but they’re each more glorious for their differences.
If today’s wedding showcased anything, it’s that: there’s great beauty in our unicity. It’s something I never learned while I was living in a miserable home, and I certainly didn’t learn it while married to the loser, but I think we’re all learning as we go, together.
It’s glorious to watch our little community thrive.
On our way out the door, Abby slides something into my bag. “What’s that?”
“Just another party.” She looks almost weary, which is saying something for Abby the Energizer Mummy.
When I get to the car, I open the card, and I can barely breathe. “Will.” I bang on his arm.
“Easy, Lennie,” he says.
I doubt he knows that he’s making reference to Steinbeck. He’s just copying me, and it kind of makes me love him more. “Helen’s having a little boy. This card is blue.”
“That’s great?” He stops the car and turns to face me. “Can you imagine what a terror those three will be? Nathan, this kid, and Andrew?”
“I’m a little worried about Althea. She’ll be all alone.”
“Please,” Will says. “I’m just worried about her future husband. Can you imagine dealing with Aiden, Andrew, Nathan, and this kid?”
“I mean. . .” But I realize that he’s right. This is our family. It makes me smile, imagining the four of them terrorizing the boys who love Althea.
“Aiden will be giddy,” Will says.
“About what?” Now I’m lost again.
“About the shower.” Will grins. “He loves elephants.”
Our friends are so ridiculous that he might be right. Surely the circus won’t come out again, but. . . “I’m sure whatever they come up with will be amazing.”
Will clears his throat. “Can I make a suggestion?”
“What?”
“Maybe order them a gift now. Something nice.”
I’m hitting him again as he pulls back onto the road.
“Also, no stuffed animals this time. You suck at picking those.” Will may be squawking about how hard I whap his shoulder, but he deserves it for mocking me. Abby’s baby shower was stressful squared.
When I get home, it takes us a while, but we get the babies both down for bed, and Aiden too, and I’m almost asleep when I hear the quiet whisper. “I’m the blue dukey demon, and I’m coming for you.”
That’s all the warning I get before a demented blue hamster beans me in the head.
I leap out of bed, wide awake and fuming. “I’m going to kill you.” I snatch the creepy blue poop stuffed animal, and I run after Will. We may be the exhausted parents of two tiny babies, and we may feel like we’re run ragged most of the time, but my husband still knows how to make me smile in all the best ways.