Chapter 10
EILEEN
May brings sporadic snowfall to Colorado, it also brings the warmest days since December and miles and miles of sunshine. I roll the passenger’s seat window of Jason’s luxury car all the way down, letting my hand dangle outside. My fingers dance against the breeze.
“Geez, we can put the air conditioner on,” Jason mutters.
I roll my head over to stare at him incredulously. “It’s not about the temperature in here, bud.”
He shrugs.
“Try it,” I say. “Feel the breeze.”
“No offense but that sounds like hippie shit,” Jason says.
“No offense but you’ve been here for what? A year?”
“Yeah,” he concedes.
“You are officially hippie shit,” I argue.
He grumbles halfheartedly as he rolls his own window down.
Trying not to test his patience, it feels like a good time to get back to business. As I go through the bullet points and realize how many things we have to do, I'm wondering how we're going to get everything done. The venue is, of course, the biggest ticket item by far.
Jason’s driving us to Boulder, where he found a place similar to what Charlie is looking for. One of her options is essentially Niagara Falls meets the Rocky Mountains.
The second is a fucking palace and her last option, which cracks me up, an expensive hotel. That’s exactly how she described it. So that’s all we’ve got.
I texted her last night, suggesting a destination wedding.
You know, something exclusive that’s luxurious but will naturally keep attendance down without hurting anyone’s feelings.
She called me a minute later to give me a ten-minute lecture about how “important” it is to stick to the Pinterest board. That if the time ever comes, I can plan my own fucking wedding however I want.
I tuned her out after that point. There’s only so much screaming I can take from her in a single sitting.
If I was the one getting married, however, I wouldn’t choose a palace. I can’t imagine having my first dance to John Mellencamp in a building that’s older than the state I grew up in. I sigh and decide that no matter what, I will find a venue for this wedding today.
Speak of the devil, Mellencamp starts playing long enough for Jason to skip the song to Springsteen of all things.
“What the fuck?” I protest.
“What?”
I glare at the dashboard and then at him. “I can’t believe you just did that—”
“Put on good music?” He says incredulously. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
I jostle his shoulder with my elbow. “How dare you insult John Mellencamp like that?”
“What—oh,” he says incredulously. “Really? A Mellencamp girl. Didn’t think you existed anymore.”
Apparently, it’s my turn to be confused. “What?”
“Look,” he says, “There are three kinds of people in the world: Springsteen people, Bon Jovi people, and Mellencamp people. Springsteen people rule. Bon Jovi people are—”
“Careful,” I warn him. “My parents are Bon Jovi people.”
“—Wrong but whatever.” He shrugs.
He presses his lips together making a long pause and then continues, “Those are the two main factions. And Mellencamp people are different. Underdogs.”
“Underdog?” I question his sanity.
“Hey,” he says reaching out to squeeze my hand lightly. “I guess it’s just about who you grew up with and what their music does for you.”
I hum, mulling it all over. We speed by the mountains which somedays are the most real thing in my life.
“They played a lot of Mellencamp and Tom Petty here back in the day,” I explain. “I guess there was Bon Jovi, whose stuff was a lot more popular. Mellencamp’s music was about trying your best and stumbling through life, not always getting your way, but surviving.”
“See?” he says. “Underdog through and through.”
I huff. “How far away is this place?”
“Not too far,” he says. “Just a few more miles.”
I stare at the mountain scenery. The evergreens are still covered with some snow that fell last weekend. It’s a beautiful sight but not for a wedding.
“Just not yours,” Jason says.
“Did you read my mind?” I ask.
“Yeah, I wish,” he says confidently before blushing. “Come on, you must have thought about your wedding, haven’t you?”
Ordinarily, I don’t dream about my wedding. But I’d lie if I say that I’ve never thought about it.
“It's complicated,” I answer. Shall we go through the obvious, the fucking Pinterest board Charlie is making me use is mainly mine.
“If I married, I’d definitely want something small,” I say a little disheartened.
Because if I ever get married, I can’t use any of these ideas, or I’d be copying Charlie. She’d throw a tantrum in the middle of the ceremony or refuse to let the priest continue with it until the flowers were changed.
Maybe I should be the one organizing a destination wedding. Only a few guests. No children. Oops, sorry, Charlie. You can’t join us.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he observes. “If it were me getting married in the mountains, I’d choose The Shining.”
I do a double take. “What do you mean with you’d choose The Shining?”
“There’s a hotel in Estes Park we could rent,” he says enthusiastically. “You think your sister would go with that? It’d be a good excuse to use a black dress.”
I gawk at him. “You mean the Stanley Hotel?”
“The very one,” he says proudly. “I already made some calls. If you want it, they’ll let us rent out the whole thing for the weekend. It's expensive as fuck, but we can make it happen.”
I groan. “We have a budget.”
“It could be my wedding gift to them,” he continues, ignoring my glare. “We can get them the room for the weekend. Marek would love it.”
Somehow, I think he’s just fucking with me.
“So what?” I play along with his little wedding fantasy. Seriously, The Shining? No wonder he is single. “If you get the Stanley Hotel, are you planning on handing out signed books and the DVD as party favors?”
“Oh, that's a good idea,” he says, and I finally notice his wicked smile.
“You’re so not funny,” I say, barely concealing my own smile. “Honestly, I’d rather have a normal hotel for a wedding than these spectacular gardens in the middle of the majestic woods next to a crystal-clear waterfall.”
“Alright, now we’re getting somewhere.” He says as licks his full lips. “What do we have to do to make that happen? What do you have in mind?”
“The Broadmoor would be fantastic if we could actually get it,” I say, knowing full well that it’s always booked.
“Done and done,” he says as he taps some of the buttons on his dashboard.
“Hey,” he says as he pulls over to the shoulder. “Do you think Em can get us the Broadmoor.”
“You’ve officially gone crazy,” I mutter.
“I'm dictating a text to my brother,” he answers. “His girlfriend has connections. Maybe we can get a slot for that day to get these two hitched. You think your sister would change her mind about the day?”
I laugh. He hasn’t spent enough time with Charlie, but I bet that by the end of this affair he’s going to stay at least a town away from my sister and our entire family at all times.
“Like my sister would care about changing her date,” I say trying to control the laugh. “She said May twenty-seventh and that would be it.”
“So, there’s no room to negotiate?”
“Any time would really work,” I tell him. If there’s something I’ve learned after all these years, is to work with loopholes. “Regardless, we’ll have to make sure everyone who comes from out of town makes it on time.”
“Your parents do a lot for her, don’t they?”
I don’t answer.
He puts the car in drive, peeling back onto the highway. “Okay once we have the venue, what’s next?”
Checking on my journal, I say, “Charlie’s working on the guest list. Thank fuck she gets that we can’t invite more than a hundred people...”
“I hear a ‘but’, Eileen,” he says with a voice akin to a sports announcer.
“Well, Jason,” I say, matching his tone. “It’s still anyone’s guess if she’ll actually stay under a hundred people. Let alone how many people she’ll try to squeeze into her bridal party.”
We’re still heading in the direction of Boulder. There’s a shop that does custom wedding invites that Charlie “has” to have.
Clouds roll by overhead, dwarfing us with their shadows. Jason goes back to comfortably dangling his left hand out the window. I don’t say, I told you so, but it feels good to be right.
It isn’t until we get off the highway that I realize I messed up by adding Save the Date. There’s no fucking way we can send the cards.
I text Charlie, asking if she wants to create an event online instead.
Eileen: Do you want to create a Save the Date online?
Charlie: Dang, That's a little tacky, don't you think?
No, I think that’s the only way I can get it done on time, but I don’t type the response.
Charlie: Is there any way that we can send them tonight instead?
Before I can answer, another text pops with yet another ridiculous question.
Charlie: When are you guys organizing the engagement party?
My jaw drops. My stomach is churning. She’s on my last nerve and this wedding is just getting started. I try to keep my anger at bay.
“She wants an engagement party,” I announce, baffled, angry, and yet sounding flat.
“Seriously?” Jason says as he parks in front of the card shop.
His phone buzzes and a message appears on the screen of his dashboard.
Jack: If you can be at the Broadmoor hotel within the next couple of hours, they might be able to find something for you.
Jason: Why a couple of hours?
Jack: The event coordinator leaves at three.
“It’s one,” I say staring at the message on his dashboard.
“Well fuck,” he says. “Shit. Okay, let’s go in the shop, ask for what’s on your list and then leave. Ten minutes, tops.”
“Cool,” I say as casually as possible.
By the look on Jason’s face, it isn’t reassuring to either of us.