Always the Last to Know (Always the Bridesmaid) (21 page)

        “My… my… hairdresser broke her arm!”  She shouts before breaking out into open sobbing.

        “That’s terrible.”

        “I know!”   Carla blows her nose into the tissue.  “That clumsy bitch just destroyed my wedding day!”

       I tempted to ask Carla when she lost her soul, but decide that now is not the best time for that.  I’m also refraining to mention to her that I am a bit of klutz as well, and breaking our arms and spraining our ankles is not something we do on purpose.

       I crouch down next to her, “You can find another hairdresser.”

       She blows her nose again, “Not as good as Mandy, I won’t.”  I assume that Mandy is the poor girl with the broken arm being called bad names.  Carla adds, “And I won’t find anyone available for Saturday to fix everyone’s hair.”

        “Don’t be a Negative Nancy.  Come on and get out of your closet.  Between the two of us, surely to God we can find someone available to make you even more stunning than you already are for your wedding day.”

       I stand back up, having lost the feeling in my legs from squatting down.  Carla crawls out of her closet and stands up as well.

       We find the nearest phonebook and split the list of salons in half.  I had no idea this town had so many bloody salons.  It’s like an infestation of hair styling.  I also had no idea how popular it is to visit a hair salon on a Saturday.  No one is available at the salons I call and, since Carla is still frantically punching numbers in on her phone to the next-to-last salon in the phonebook, I don’t think that she’s having any luck either.

        “Hi, this is Carla Callahan.  Is there anyone available for a Saturday hair appointment for a wedding party?”  …  “There is?” …  “Is he able to work on-location?” … “Me, the bride, and two bridesmaids.”  …  “I would be glad to come in and discuss options.  Thank you so much!”  Carla smacks me in the arm and gives me a thumbs-up symbol, thinking that I hadn’t been eavesdropping on her conversation.  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.  Thank you so much!”  She hangs up her phone and hugs me viciously.

        “I take it you found someone to fix your hair?”  I croak out, unable to breathe from being crushed by her hug.

       She lets go of me, her eyes welling with tears.  “Yeah.”  After clearing her throat, she asks, “Do you want to go with me to meet him?”

        “Nah.  I need to stay here and work on some things before Evan and Riley move my bed out tomorrow.”

        “Okay.”  Carla grabs her purse and heads for the door.  She stops and smiles at me, “Thank you so much, Jess.”

        “I didn’t do anything.”

        “Yes, you did.”  She says matter-of-factly before leaving.

       Oh, I hope that hairstylist doesn’t suck.

***

Jess’ To-Do List:

1.  Pick up fruit tray, veggie tray, and cake for the bachelorette party tomorrow morning.

2.  Remove celery from veggie tray as it causes Carla to get sick.

3.  Try to figure out how celery – which has no smell or taste – can make one sick just by looking at it.

4.  Not let it slip that the flower girl has chicken pox.  I’ve already called Carla’s mom, the make-up artist for the wedding, and she promises to lay the foundation on thick.  Hopefully the flower girl won’t look like a drag queen.

5.  Try to figure out a way to tell Riley that I love him without having to show him my boobs.

        “What are you up to?” Carla asks, plopping down next to me on the couch.  Her hair is styled perfectly from her visit to the salon.  Evidently the hairstylist, Brian, is something of a genius with hair.  And Carla might be a little bit in love with him.

       I close the notebook I’m writing in before she can see what I’ve written about Riley.  From what I can tell, Evan hasn’t told her about what happened today at the bank.  And I’m glad of that but I also want to know just how in the hell she knew about me loving Riley before I knew.  Better yet, how does everyone else seem to know about this except for me?  Matt knew, Annie knew, Carla knew… even Evan knew it.  And that’s scary.

        “Nothing, just writing out what all I need to do before the wedding.”

       She nods, “You know, I thought I had this all planned out.  The day after Evan proposed, I started planning the wedding.  I never thought the day would get here.  And now that it’s so close, I’ve realized that I haven’t focused on the important stuff.”

        “Like what?  You’ve been completely militaristic about this wedding.  You’ve looked over every single detail with an anal-retentiveness that the world has ever seen.  What didn’t you focus on?”

       Carla sighs, “The marriage.  No one thinks about the marriage.  It’s all about the wedding and the honeymoon and the gifts and the pictures.  And, now that I’m thinking about all the stuff I haven’t thought of yet, I’m terrified.”

        “It’s going to be okay, Carla.  You just have a case of cold feet.  You and Evan are perfect for each other.  You know that.  And as long as you believe in each other, you two can make it through anything.”

       She blinks at me, completely astounded.  “Have you been watching
Dr. Phil
?”

       I stick out my tongue.  “I’m offended by that.”  But I don’t see any reason to correct her and say that I was perusing through the self-help section of Barnes and Noble today on my lunch break.

       She mutters a quick apology before changing the subject.  “I can’t believe that Evan and Riley are at a strip club together.”  Carla shakes her head and laughs, “Riley and all of Evan’s football player friends.  You know that he’s absolutely miserable right now.”

        “I’m sure that the strippers are making him a little happy.”

       I do feel bad for Riley, even if he is at a strip club.  He has to be at a strip club with Evan’s buddies, and that’s a fate that he wouldn’t put on anyone, even Matt who he apparently hates.  Of course, Matt has to be there too.  Poor Riley, stuck at a strip joint with Matt and all of Evan’s moronic football player friends.  At Evan and Carla’s engagement party, Riley spent most of the party in the tree house in his mom’s backyard.  I know this because I was hiding out there first.  I hate Evan’s friends too.

       Riley and I sat out there on the tree house’s balcony until the stars came out and it got too cold to stay outside.  To keep me out there longer, Riley took off his UK zip-up hoodie and gave it to me.  It’s seven months later and I’m just now appreciating the gesture.

       And I just remembered that I never gave him his hoodie back.  Oops.

       Riley and I hate Evan’s friends for all the same reasons:  they’re cocky, they’re loud, they lack a filter between their stupid brain and their stupid mouth, they spend countless hours in the gym and, before they go to bed, they kiss the picture of Chuck Norris that they keep on their nightstand
(I assume)
, and they’re just complete assholes.

       It’s strange that Riley and I hate those guys since Riley is known to be a loud, cocky asshole from time to time and I like Riley, all of Riley, even the loud, cocky asshole side of him.

       I kind of loathe myself for that.

                “You’re not doing anything crazy for my bachelorette party tomorrow, are you?”  When I shake my head, she sighs, obviously relieved, “Good.  I don’t think I can take too many more surprises before the wedding.”  She chuckles and rubs her stomach.

       I smile at her.  The last thing I want to do is piss off the pregnant lady before her wedding.

        “I don’t know if I told you or not, but I am really going to miss you living here.  You always keep the kitchen drawers so neat and organized, and you have that bitchin’ DVD collection.”  Carla sniffles, “And you’re my oldest friend and I’m just really going to miss you!”

       Before I can brace myself, Carla hugs me, and she’s crying.

        “I’m going to miss you too, Carla.  But, you know that I can come over and organize the kitchen drawers anytime you want.” 

       Carla pulls away from me and smiles, “Even though you’re leaving, I’m glad you’re moving to Riley’s.”  She snickers, “His kitchen drawers are okay but have you seen those cabinets?”

       Yes, I have seen those cabinets.  Those cabinets are why I have a huge bruise on my forehead in all my college graduation pictures.  It was the night before graduation and I was at Riley’s looking for a blender so that Carla and I could make “diploma daiquiris”.  By our senior year, Carla and I needed very little reason to drink but required alliteration in our drink titles; we had diploma daiquiris, just-because jello shots, test-tomorrow ‘tinis, and fat-day fuzzy navels.  So, in search of the blender for said diploma daiquiris, I opened one of the top cabinet doors and this huge glass bowl came sliding out and conked me on the head.

       Riley now keeps all large bowls and such in complete disarray in the lower cabinets.  While this prevents against possible concussions, I recommend wearing steel-toed boots before opening those cabinets.

       I smile, “It’s going to be an interesting living experience, that’s for sure.”

        “You two are going to have a blast, and you know it.”  She gives me a pointed look.  “At least you’ll stop bickering once you’re living together.”

        “How would that stop the bickering?  If anything, Riley and I living together will cause mass chaos.”  Especially when I spill my heart out to him.

       Carla laughs, “I’m just saying.  With you two sharing a living space, maybe you’ll both realize that it’s what you always wanted and you two will finally shut the hell up about what you did to each other when you were eight.  Because, I’ll tell you something, you two arguing all the time is a complete pain in the ass for all of us around you.  We all just wish you would get over all this immature bullshit you’ve been pulling forever and get serious.  The love-hate thing is only cute for so long.  And it ain’t cute anymore.”

       I scoot away from Carla until I’m at the opposite end of the couch.  She’s been expressing a wide range of emotions the past few days. I don’t know if it’s because of the wedding or because of the pregnancy hormones.  I just know that I don’t feel safe being in the same room as her right now.

        “Okay.”  I don’t know what else to say or do so I stay where I am and try not to make any sudden movements.

       Carla shakes her head, “I’m sorry, Jess. There’s just so much going on and. . . . I’m stressed and scared and pregnant and don’t know what else to do.”

       Besides yell at me, you mean.

        “It’s okay, Carla.”

       She nods, “I’m just sorry.  You’ve been so great about all of this wedding stuff.  You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”

       I give her a smile, “Hey, what are Maid of Honors for anyway?”

Twelve

Friday, July 3
^rd

        “Hey there, Callahan!”  I smile, my high-heels clanking loudly, as I walk into the kitchen of his house.

        “God, you’re shrill.”  Riley mutters from the kitchen table.  He looks at me through half-shut eyes, “Why are you in a dress?”

        “For the bachelorette party.  I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to beat an apology out of you so I decided to be decent looking if I’m late to Carla’s party.”  You know, he really could have said that I look nice.  Or at least take a gander at my chest – I didn’t buy a halter dress for nothing, you know.  

       I stomp across the kitchen to the medicine cabinet.  I purposely shake pill bottles and noisily move around items.  Once I find the Tylenol, I shut the cabinet door. Hard.  Plopping the Tylenol bottle down on the table, I grab a coffee mug and fill it with water, then sit it next to the Tylenol.

        “Thanks.”  He whispers, reaching for the bottle.  I sit next to him, making a point to slide the chair across the floor so that it makes a terrible screeching sound, and tap my fingers sharply against the table until he swallows the Tylenol.

       While the pills are traveling down his throat, I start talking, loudly.  “So, I was awoken at six this morning by Carla.  She was crying hysterically, at six in the morning mind you, and saying that the wedding was off.  Evidently something happened last night at the bachelor party.  My first thought was that Evan got too frisky with one of the ladies at the strip joint.  But it wasn’t that.  Evidently Carla’s brother, that’s you, punched Evan, that’s your baby sister’s fiancé, in the eye.  And,” I nod my head toward his face, “judging by that swollen cut lip, Evan hit you back.”

       Riley gives me this look that I can’t even begin to describe.  Oh my God, is that shame in his eyes?

        “Are you mad at me?”

        “Not nearly as mad as Carla is.  I personally find it kind of humorous.”  I get up to make a cold compress for his lip.  “What happened anyway?”  I ask, searching for a dish towel to put some ice cubes in.

        “We were at the strip joint and we were both kind of drunk.  Evan made a comment about one of the strippers and one of his stupid football friends followed up with something about Carla, I don’t even remember what, but it pissed me off, then Evan laughed and, like I said, I was drunk.  So I punched him.”