Chapter 25 #2
“Katie,” said Charlie, jarring me from my thoughts, “your word on this.”
How could I be so angry at him and still find my skin tingling at his nearness, my eyes not missing a single detail of how handsome he was?
Because I was my mother’s daughter.
And a woman with a pulse.
“Fine.” I pushed off the wall and shoved past him. “But you’re giving me your dessert.”
Dinner was a loud, boisterous affair, as was any meal or gathering with the Vega family.
While Frances’s mother’s family mostly lived in China, her father’s relatives never missed an event, no matter how far they had to travel.
I sat next to Frances, pushing my Alfredo around on my plate and trying to pretend that Charlie Benson was somewhere in a Speedo on a glacier in Antarctica, instead of seated right across the table.
Joey hadn’t had much to say during dinner, and I worried that Frances’s chatty, vibrant personality was no match for his silent, introverted demeanor. What would they talk about at dinner? On road trips? When there was nothing left to binge watch on Netflix?
“So, Joey,” I began, taking a sip of tea. “Are you excited to move to Cambridge?”
“I am.” He smiled and glanced at Frances. “It will be very different from Texas, but I think the new venture will be fun.”
“Probably expensive too, right?” I flinched as Charlie delivered a light kick under the table.
“We’ll get by.” Joey winked at his soon-to-be bride. “I just got a job lined up at a body shop. Hopefully I can eventually get into paint detailing. It’s more my specialty.”
“I’ll probably work part-time at a coffee shop or something with late hours,” Frances said.
“You’re going to work and be in the PhD program? That’s quite a load.” I took a sip of iced tea. “And you guys have an apartment already?”
Frances dipped her bread in olive oil. “We just found a really cute studio near campus.”
“Cute?” Joey’s laugh was boyish and bashful. “It’s a pit. But we’ll make it our own. We can’t have a house like my parent’s right away.”
“It’ll be great,” Frances said.
Charlie smiled at his brother. “I’m sure it will.”
“You must come see me soon, Katie,” Frances said. “We’ll show you around Cambridge.”
“Maybe at Christmas?” Warm memories filled my mind. “Joey, Frances and I have these silly traditions. We drive around and look at the lights.”
“While singing carols at the top of our lungs,” Frances added.
“Frances hadn’t told me.” Joey rested his hand on Frances’s. “Sounds just like her.” “I guess you’ll be taking her cat Mango,” I said. “How do you feel about temperamental cats? ”
Joey frowned. “I’m allergic to them.”
“Mango’s staying with my parents.” Frances said.
“But he’s your baby. You bottle fed him since he was—”
“It’s okay,” Frances said. “He’ll be happy here.”
That cat was Frances’s pride and joy. I knew she had to be crushed.
“We are taking my dog Bruno,” Joey said. “He’s a Rottweiler. Huge guy.”
I assumed from Charlie’s narrow-eyed glare that he didn’t want me to comment on that.
“I can’t believe we’re going to be married tomorrow,” Frances said, pulling us away from my quicksand of conversational topics. “I can’t wait to walk down that aisle.”
“Do you have something borrowed?” I asked.
“My mom’s pearl earrings.”
“Something blue?” Charlie inquired.
Before Frances could answer, the waitress stopped by with dessert menus. The restaurant was known for their homemade pies.
“I’ll take peach cobbler,” Joey said.
“Would you like ice cream on that?”
“Nah, can’t have the stuff.”
The waitress scribbled down the rest of our orders and scurried away.
“You can’t have ice cream?” Frances asked. “I eat it almost daily.”
“Joey’s lactose intolerant,” Charlie said.
Frances picked up her water glass and drank deeply. She tossed her napkin on the table and rose to her feet. “I’m going to go to the ladies room. Katie, would you like to join me?”
“I don’t really have to go—”
“Yes, you do.” Frances excused us both without her usual graceful charm, then walked toward the bathrooms like her underwear had just caught fire.
She flew through the ladies’ room door, only to stop in front of a row of mirrors. She began to wash her hands, repeatedly soaping and rinsing as if she had something to scrub away.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She worked a puffy lather onto her hands. “ Perfectly fine. I mean, never mind that my fiancé doesn’t know some basic details about my life, and I had no idea he was lactose intolerant. I mean, I could’ve killed him. With dairy.”
“A little milk probably wouldn’t do that much damage.”
“He can’t live his entire married life with diarrhea!”
I bit my lip on a grin. “He probably has stuff he can take for it.”
“Does he have stuff to take when I starve him with my lack of cooking? Did you see how he was going to town on those potatoes? I’ve never even bought a potato.”
“He can learn to love rice.”
“Can he?”
Doubts.
They were running through Frances’s head so loud, I could almost hear them myself.
“Are you okay, Frances?”
“No.” She shut off the water and ran her hand over the sensor to get a paper towel. Then another. And five more. “I do love him.”
“Would you feel better if you moved the wedding date out a few months? Maybe next spring?”
“My whole family is out there. Even my stupid cousin Esther who just married a plastic surgeon. And my grandma who loves Esther best. You know, all my beloved kinsman.”
“They’d understand.” I pulled the wad of towels from Frances’s hands. “You need to do what’s best for you. And Joey.”
“He would never understand.”
“If Joey loves you he would.”
Frances turned back to the mirrors, leaned against the damp granite counter and looked at the girl staring back at her. My friend was exquisitely beautiful, brilliant, neurotic, and stressed out of her mind.
“It’s just nerves,” she finally said. “My mother said this could happen. I’m being silly.” She inhaled a cleansing breath once, twice. Then squared her shoulders and nodded to my reflection. “I can do this.” She watched herself in a mirror. “Tomorrow I marry Joey Benson.”