Despite what I’d said to Steven, I still found myself waiting for my mother. Waiting for her to come around, waiting for her to give in. I didn’t want to start planning the wedding until she said yes. But when days passed and she refused to discuss it, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.
Thank God for Taylor.
She brought over a big white binder with clippings from wedding magazines and checklists and all kinds of stuff. “I was saving this for my wedding, but we can use it for yours, too,” she said.
All I had was one of my mother’s yellow legal pads. I had written WEDDING at the top and made a list of things I needed to do. The list looked pretty skimpy, next to Taylor’s binder.
We were sitting on my bed, papers and bride magazines all around us. Taylor was all business.
She said, “First things first. We have to find you a dress. August is really, really soon.”
“It doesn’t feel that soon,” I said.
“Well, it is. Two months to plan a wedding is nothing. In weddingspeak that’s, like, tomorrow.”
“Well, I guess since the wedding is going to be simple, the dress should be too,” I said.
Taylor frowned. “How simple?”
“Really simple. As simple as it gets. Nothing poofy or frou frou.”
She nodded to herself. “I can picture it. It’s very Cindy Crawford wedding-on-the-beach, very Carolyn Bessette.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I said. I had no idea what either of their wedding dresses looked like. I didn’t even know who Carolyn Bessette was. After I had the dress, it would feel more real, I would be able to visualize it happening. Right now it still felt too abstract.
“What about shoes?”
I gave her a look. “Like I’m gonna wear heels on the beach. I can barely walk in heels on level ground.”
Taylor ignored me. “What about my bridesmaid dress?”
I pushed some magazines onto the carpet so I could lie down. I stretched my legs as high as I could and put my feet up on the wall. “I was thinking mustard yellow. Maybe in a satiny kind of material.” Taylor hated mustard yellow.
“Mustard yellow satin,” Taylor repeated, nodding and trying hard to keep the disgust off her face. I could tell she was torn between her vanity and her credo, which was, the Bride is always right. “That could maybe work with Anika’s skin tone. I’m more of a spring, but if I started tanning now, it could work.”
I laughed. “I’m kidding. You can wear whatever you want.”
“Dork!” she said, looking relieved. She slapped my thigh. “You’re so immature! I can’t believe you’re getting married!”
“Me neither.”
“But I guess it makes sense, in a Twilight Zone kind of way. You and Jere have known each other for, like, a grillion years. It’s meant to be.”
“How long is a grillion years?”
“It’s forever.” In the air she spelled out my initials. “B.C. + J.F. forever.”
“Forever,” I echoed happily. Forever I could do. Me and Jere.
