It’s Her Day
One best friend is getting married while the other is scared of her life changing forever, in this tale by We Are Not Like Them authors Christine Pride and Jo Piazza
She’s not naive enough to believe your wedding day is the start of a brand-new life, but she’s going to try like hell to make it that way. I’m getting married today! Jen would scream it to the few people on the street this early, below the hotel balcony, but she’d wake Riley, sleeping in one of the double beds a few feet away. Her best friend’s eyes dart wildly behind her lids, betraying a restless, intense dream.
Between getting in so late, and staying up until 3am talking and devouring the bounty from the mini bar, Riley probably won’t be psyched for the 9am manicure and pedicure appointments Jen booked at their favourite salon, but she wanted one more quiet hour alone with her best friend before all the chaos starts.
Her (almost) motherin-law has a drill sergeant’s schedule lined up, starting at 11am. Cookie was already none too happy when Jen announced the lastminute change of plans to get ready here in this suite. Originally the plan was for everyone to do hair and make-up in the basement of St Mike’s, where the ceremony was being held. The chapel itself was beautiful, the dank smelly basement with its one warped mirror, not so much.
Riley came to the rescue with a reservation at the Loew’s, to which Cookie could only grumble: “Well, that’s going to cost her a pretty penny. I didn’t think someone like her could afford that.”
She knew just what Cookie meant – after all, the woman couldn’t stop referring to Riley as Jen’s “black friend”. But Cookie’s casual racism aside, it’s true: Jen can’t imagine how much this suite costs, much less how Riley could swing it on her salary as a junior reporter in Joplin, Missouri (it would take Jen a full two months’ of tips at Fat Tuesday to afford even a half-day here).
But she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As she tightens the fluffy hotel bathrobe that feels like being hugged by a dozen kittens, she’s going to pretend she deserves this princess treatment, if just for the day. One perfect day.
***
Riley is disoriented when she wakes, blinded by the light streaming in the window. Traces of dream anxiety remain and mix with the real-life anxiety that floods her.
She was tense the entire trip here – finding it difficult to unwind from the adrenaline rush of the race to make the last flight out of Kansas City. Jen would never forgive her if she missed it and then arrived halfway through her oldest friend’s wedding day. There are some things that are unforgivable.
She’s already been a s**t bridesmaid anyway – case in point: her yellow silk maid of honour gown is crumpled in her bag. She missed her last fitting so she can only hope she can squeeze into it. She sprung for this hotel room she can’t afford as a way to compensate for being too busy, too far away and too distracted.
“For you!” Jen thrusts a steaming mug of coffee at her. “I just punched a bunch of buttons on the espresso machine. I hope it’s okay.”
With the first sip, the tension starts to melt. She’s determined to relax, to be there for Jen, fully present and joyous. And not just Jen: tomorrow she gets to spend some rare time with her family. But just thinking of seeing her mother, her stomach starts to do horrible things.
She’ll know. She’ll take one look at me and know. Riley doesn’t even know yet. She couldn’t look at the stick she peed on and then blindly thrust in the bottom of her bag. Maybe she’s not ready to face the fact she might become the worst cliché she (or her mother) could imagine: an unwed black mother. Never mind the fact she’ll have derailed her career before it’s even started.
“So does that sound good?”
Jen has been talking this whole time. So much for being present.
“Yes, all sounds good. Whatever you want and need today, wifey. We’re gonna make it perfect.” She means it: this is a day they’ve waited for, they planned and schemed and dreamed about. The groom almost didn’t matter – still doesn’t; Riley finds Kevin surprisingly irrelevant, but that could be because she doesn’t know him that well yet, despite the fact Jen will spend the rest of her life with him.
Jen lies on the bed and stares at Riley. “What’s going on with you? You look… I don’t know, like you’re both glowing and exhausted. I mean, story of your life. But… wait. It can’t be because you’re getting laid because… It’s still over, right?”
Riley only nods, because that feels less like lying. Because she promised Jen she ended the reckless fling with her married co-worker months ago.
“Today’s not about me, Pony!” She uses Jen’s nickname from childhood. “Today is all about you.”
But I do need you today, Jenny. Just for this one thing, Riley thinks.
“I’m getting married, Puff!!!” Jen screams it as if it’s been bottled up inside
Maybe she’s not ready to face the fact she might become the worst cliché she could imagine: an unwed black mother
and Riley joins in.“You’re getting marrrrrriiiedd!”
The two of them squeal and fall back into the cloud of pillows tangled in each other’s arms, both overcome by how much this moment reminds them of all the fantasies they ever had about this moment. Only better, because it’s real. ***
A short time later they stand shoulder to shoulder in front of vast rows of nail polish bottles lined up like soldiers on plexiglass shelves.
“Remember when you got grounded for painting your nails scarlet red before the annual Easter pageant?”
Jen loves this, stringing together memories from their past and holding them up bright in the light like precious jewels. The same stories told over and over until they’re polished smooth as pearls.
“Oh God, how could I forget? Mom kept calling it Hussy Red and somehow I thought it was going to help if I clarified that it was actually Berry on Top.”
“Oh, do you think they have Berry on Top? That would be perfect. I want bright red fingers and toes… Perfect for such a virginal bride.” Jen forms her fingers into a steeple beneath her chin and snorts.
“Your mom will love it. Cookie will hate it.”
“That reminds me… Your job tonight is to make sure Lou has a glass of water every hour so she doesn’t get hammered and hit on my new father-in-law.”
“Jeez, Jen, give me something easier to do… like turning the water into wine.”
Normally, Jen was fine laughing at Lou and what a crap mother she was, it was the oldest story of her life, but this was serious. “I mean it, Rye. We’ve got to get her through the reception without puking, okay? It’s my one wedding wish.”
“Okay, I will. And keep her away from Cookie, too. I know.” “What’s going on Rye, are your hands shaking?”
Riley stops reaching for the bottle and self-consciously grabs one hand in the other. “No, no, I’m okay, it’s just the coffee.”
Jen knows better. She knows Riley. Something’s up, but whatever it is, she knows she’s not going to bother to pry it out of her right now. Two decades of friendship has taught her Riley will open when she’s good and ready.
***
They’re settled into the pedicure chairs when Jen announces it. “I plan to be pregnant by June!”
Riley fumbles with the bottle she’s holding and it drops into the water at her feet with a splash. She has got to pull it together. She can’t do this to Jen.
“Okay, seriously. What is up with you, girl?”
“Sorry, like I said, just tired and too excited.” She knows Jen knows she’s lying.
“Well, you better not drop your glass during the toast tonight. You’re finished writing it right? I know I’m gonna cry and I never cry.”
“Of course I did,” Riley lies… again. They’re piling up. The half-written ode to their friendship and Jen’s happily ever after is floating around in her bag with the pregnancy test. “Don’t you worry about that – but pregnant? Already?” Riley shudders at the word so strongly she worries Jen can feel the vibration next to her.
“Well, I’m not getting any younger…” “Jen, you’re 24!”
“Whatever. I want the fresh baby-making eggs. And anyway, Kevin hates his job and keeps going on about meaning in his life and how he wants to do something that matters and blah, blah. What matters more than a baby? A kid is the perfect jump-start to our life together. And it gives me time to have eight more!”
Riley is dizzy now, visions of her future blurring behind her eyes. The anchor desk she’s dreamed of versus a sad, lonely apartment and a screaming baby.
“Jen, can you hold on a sec, I just… I have to pee so bad suddenly. I’ll be right back.” That’s it. She won’t make it through the rest of this pedicure, let alone weekend without knowing. She wants Jenny with her when she looks, but she also just realises the best gift she can give Jen, better than the perfect toast, is to keep her promise: this day is all about the bride.
She jumps up and pads across the dirty floor of the salon leaving wet footprints and ignoring the confused stares – including Jen’s.
“Did you just get your period?” Jen calls out laughing. Riley realises it’s because she grabbed her purse and is clutching it tightly. She doesn’t respond. With one hand she slams the bathroom door, the other is already digging in her bag. It’s unnecessary, and melodramatic, but she squeezes her eyes shut before opening them and staring down. It takes a minute to focus. One line. One line. There’s only one line.
She sags to the floor with such relief it’s like she’s dodged an actual bullet. She’s back from the abyss.
On her way back to their seats, she passes the receptionist and orders champagne for the two of them. There is, after all, so much to celebrate.
‘Your job tonight is to make sure Lou has a glass of water every hour so she doesn’t hit on my new father-in-law’