Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke up the next morning excited and jittery, and it wasn’t from Abuelita’s double-strength coffee.
I was supposed to be researching coffee farms, but instead I was fretting over what outfit was appropriate for a Costa Rican wedding.
Just because I wasn’t Adrián’s real girlfriend didn’t mean I didn’t want to look good.
So I needed a dress. Eva was thrilled— thrilled —to play dress-up with me in her bedroom.
She pulled out every dress she owned and spread them out on the bed.
Her generosity was trumped only by her love of sparkles.
I didn’t understand how she could be in an uber-conservative church yet have the wardrobe of a drag queen.
“What does he do for a living?” she asked, as I modeled a particularly short red number. She was sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up. In that position and without her makeup, she looked like a teenager.
“He works for his dad. His dad owns some hotels.”
“Oh, that’s perfect .” I could see her calculating his net worth in her mind. I shimmied out of the red dress and tried on another. “ That’s the dress.” It was a short green frock with a deep V-neck. It was the most conservative dress she owned. “He’s going to be very happy.”
That was a really weird statement. Was I getting dressed for him ?
But it turns out Eva was right—the dress did make him happy. Or possibly the person inside it. His eyes widened when he picked me up a few hours later.
“Thanks for coming with me, novia ,” he said, eyeing the plunging collar of my dress.
Maybe I should have been offended that he was staring at my chest, but honestly, I was flattered.
I didn’t even mind that he called me girlfriend.
After all, it was only for one day. And he was completely breathtaking in a tux.
So I perved on Adrián as he drove us to Escazú, admiring his broad shoulders and trim waist. Was it wrong to objectify him?
Or was it a needed rebalancing of gender norms?
I wrested my eyes off him long enough to check out the scenery.
Escazú was incredibly posh. “This is like Costa Rican Beverly Hills,” I said.
“Isn’t it beautiful? I’m going to buy a house here someday.”
We parked and entered the vestibule of the church.
If the neighborhood was Costa Rican Beverly Hills, then the church was the Beverly Hills Hotel.
Other than the pictures of Jesus on the cross, you’d have thought it was a hotel lobby.
It was all marble, drapery, and flowers.
I stopped to examine a flower arrangement.
It had massive birds of paradise, hibiscus, and orchids in deep shades of purple and fuchsia; so different from the pale pink roses I was used to.
Adrián pushed me deeper into the room. “You’ve got to meet my mom. ”
Even if I wasn’t his real girlfriend, this was still intimidating.
I had no idea what the social rules were here.
Was I supposed to call her by her first name?
Hug her? Bow? No, that would be overkill.
Adrián led me to a strikingly attractive and regal woman, Dona Teresa.
She was wearing an ice-blue dress and black pearl earrings.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said in Spanish, grazing her cheek in the Costa Rican hello-goodbye kiss. I didn’t have the hang of it yet—were you supposed to make contact, or just get in the vicinity?
“ El placer es mío .” She eyed me up and down without any attempt to hide it. “You look so pale,” she said, in Spanish. “You’d look better in lighter colors.”
“ ?Mamá! ” said Adrián.
“It’s true, she’s such a beautiful girl!” She said something rapidly to Adrián that I couldn’t understand. She hated me. She hated me. She hated me. “And so polite, too.” Oh god, did she hate me! “So what do you, Dee? Are you a student?”
I looked at her perfectly smooth pearl earrings, which probably cost as much as a small car.
How could I tell her that I was a professional radical ?
This was not the right audience for that.
And I was a student until just two weeks ago.
If Costa Ricans gave directions based on former landmarks, maybe this flexible attitude toward time could extend to other contexts?
“Yes. I’m a student.” Adrián looked at me, surprised, but didn’t say anything.
“Where are you studying?” she asked.
Crap. I had hoped to keep this to a temporal-based almost-not-lie. Well, if I was going to be a fake girlfriend, I might as well be the best fake girlfriend I could be.
“I’m in an exchange program at UCR, doing my last semester before law school.”
Suddenly, Teresa’s expression turned from mild distaste to interest. “Wonderful.” People were drifting from the vestibule to the nave of the church. “Come, dear, sit with us.”
So it was flanked by pheromone-spewing Adrián and his prim mother that I watched the wedding ceremony. The priest started hemming and hawing, and I sat up straight and tried very hard to understand what he was saying. Would I have to eat the body of Christ ? Do they do that at Catholic weddings?
It turns out, they do. Everyone was going up to the altar.
I was pretty sure this was just meant for Catholics.
Would it be a sacrilege if I, as a Jew, took the communion wafer?
And if I didn’t take it, would everyone assume it was because I had unconfessed sins?
Like having strictly forbidden premarital sex with Adrián?
This was a lose-lose situation. I hesitated as everyone in our pew rose.
Adrián held out his hand and looked at me quizzically.
Teresa was also looking. I reluctantly followed him to the altar.
As the priest put the wafer in my mouth, I closed my eyes and prayed. First, to my God. Sorry, My God, this doesn’t mean anything. Second, to Jesus. Sorry, Jesus, I hope you understand. Also, I hope you will still protect me when I say cover me with your precious sanctified blood.
I went back to the pew with Adrián and was relieved not to be struck with lightning.
I almost made it through the rest of the ceremony without issues.
But when the priest offered the final blessing, I started tearing up.
Why did this always happen?! Would Adrián’s family mistake my tears as a desire to don the white gown?
Perhaps. Teresa nodded approvingly when she noticed my sniffles. After the final benediction, we exited the nave and entered a beautifully maintained courtyard.
“Go stand with all the other girls over there, ‘college student’ Dee,” said Adrián, pointing toward a fountain, where young women in multicolored finery were swarming.
“Why?”
“My cousin’s going to throw the flowers.”
“I don’t want to.” The girls looked like they were going to topple over the flower arrangements. Someone was going to get crushed, I just knew it.
“Ok, but it’ll look weird if you don’t,” he said.
Just then, a young woman grabbed my arm and tugged me with her into the middle of a flock of blushing and giggling girls.
“Use both hands to catch it,” shouted Adrián. I glared at him from the middle of the pack, now trapped. If I tried to escape, Adrián’s mother would notice and make him “break up” with me. And at this point, it was about pride. I was good enough for him, dammit.
“Blah blah blah blah,” said the groom.
“Blah blah blah blah,” said the bride, and suddenly there I was, right at the end of the bouquet’s trajectory.
I tried to bobble it, and the flowers bounced back into the air.
Other girls dove for it and pushed and scratched, and those flowers kept flying back to me like I was a freaking magnet!
I’ll be damned if those other girls didn’t absolutely place it in my hands by pushing each other out of the way.
So there I was, the reluctant winner of the bridal floral arrangement.
The other girls pretended to congratulate me.
The bride came up to me. “This means you’re going to get married next!” She kissed my cheek, actually making contact. “Congratulations!”
“You caught it,” Adrián said. “With only one hand!”
“What luck,” said Teresa. “Do you intend to get married before law school? If you wait to have children until after, won’t you be too old?”
My shock must have been apparent, because Adrián distracted her by waving at someone.
“Look, Mom, it’s Tía Marisol.” Teresa followed Adrián’s gaze to Marisol, who was wearing a pink silk dress and an entire chest full of jewelry.
Marisol approached and kissed Teresa and Adrián. She looked at me with frank curiosity.
“Marisol,” said Teresa, “This is Dee, Adrián’s new girlfriend.”
Marisol smiled and pulled me in for an embrace, horribly crushing the ill-fated bridal flowers. I felt the spike of a bird of paradise prick my chest.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said in Spanish, again awkwardly attempting the hello-goodbye air kiss.
“Dee’s an exchange student,” said Teresa. “She’s going to be a lawyer.”
“I’m so proud of her,” Adrián said, giving me a devilish look.
“ ?Qué maravilloso! ” said Tía Marisol, clasping her hands together over her ample bosom. “We could always use a lawyer in the family.” Whoa, slow down, lady. How did we go from new girlfriend to family?
“What is your area of focus?” asked Teresa.
Adrián looked at me. “Yes, I’d like to know as well. Since we never discussed it.”
Was he mad I lied? I was just trying to be a good fake girlfriend! I looked at Teresa and Tía Marisol, then stammered, “Corporate.” They kept looking at me. “Maybe in-house for a coffee brand?”
Marisol smiled. “My sister and her husband own a coffee farm. Café Bavaria.”
I perked up. “Is it organic? Sustainably produced?”
Marisol laughed. “It sustains their lifestyle.”
Teresa gave a wry grin. “Only Americans use fad terms like that. All our farms are ‘sustainable.’ We’ve been growing coffee in Costa Rica for over two hundred years.”