Trying the Knot (17 page)

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Authors: Todd Erickson

Tags: #women, #smalltown life, #humorous fiction, #generation y, #generation x, #1990s, #michigan author, #twentysomethings, #lgbt characters, #1990s nostalgia, #twenty something years ago, #dysfunctional realtionships, #detroit michigan, #wedding fiction

BOOK: Trying the Knot
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Freed from the tacky taffeta confines, she
emerged from behind the curtain wearing denim cutoffs and a
sleeveless flannel shirt. She bounded toward her brother and
planted a kiss on his cheek before twisting his right nipple extra
hard for insinuating she was anything less than the epitome of
petite feminine grace.

She beamed. “You’re too kind, big
brother.”

“And you’re a cow even now,” he said, and he
poked her hip-less middle while rubbing his sore chest. Alexa made
a fist and threatened to knock his lights out as she aimed it at
his jaw. Rather than knocking his block off, she mussed up his
hair.

“So butch.”

“Shut up, queer-bait,” she snarled.

They walked toward the beach and avoided the
barren main street, which was as neglected and coarse as any other
forgotten Northern Michigan mining town. Unlike Alexa, Thad hated
drawing attention to himself, and he considered cruising Main
making a virtual spectacle. Once their mother caught Alexa walking
along the main drag with a Mountain Dew bottle in hand, and Jane
Feldpausch yanked her into the family station wagon by the
hair.

As they approached the cemetery, Thad’s
attention drifted from Alexa’s ceaseless blathering about the
wedding and her upcoming senior year to the decorated tombstone
before them. Blue streamers and black balloons fluttered in the
wind with morbid festivity.

Alexa inspected the focus of his attention
and muttered, “How grotesque.”

“What’s the deal?”

“The Skoal Squaws probably threw one last
memorial shindig for Jules, since she was supposed to graduate this
past June,” Alexa explained. “Those were her class colors.”

“Nice, black and blue, like a battered wife,”
Thad said sarcastically. “Isn’t it nice they remembered their
friend?”

“Oh, spare me. It’s crazy,” Alexa shouted.
She thought the decorated tombstone was as inane as the yellow
ribbons tied around the trees lining Main Street to honor the
town’s Gulf War soldiers. “I’m not going to any Labor Day cookouts.
It’ll probably be a bunch of idiots standing around a keg crying
over Jules as they get sloshed.”

“Kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

“Hell no, after my senior year, I never want
to see any of these stupid assholes ever again,” Alexa said
bitterly. “Imagine this, once we were on a band trip to Canada, and
the hicks freaked out and shouted out the windows because we were
in a foreign country!”

“No way.”

“Waay. If that wasn’t bad enough, the winners
of last year’s Halloween costume contest were dressed up as Ku Klux
Klansmen,” she added. “But they were the Czerwinski boys, and so
they got away with it.”

“Well, in 9 months you’ll graduate and will
be gone for good.”

“Not if I don’t pass home economics,” Alexa
snapped. “Oh my God, I swear Nyda-the-Living-Dead is out to get
me.”

“She’s not.”

“She is! That compulsive filmstrip showing
bitch, she said to us, I’ll bet none of you girls is even a
virgin.”

“She didn’t.”

“She did! I was so pissed. I stood up and
yelled – We’re no longer virgins thanks to your date-raping,
Neo-Nazi twins.” Alexa spat for emphasis. “I got four freaking days
detention for defaming our Gulf War Veterans.”

In the sterile hospital room, Kate sat
watching the elevated television set. Across her lap lay the
package Nyda delivered earlier in the afternoon. Kate thought it
strange she walked in to find Nyda’s husband, Deputy Czerwinski,
hovering over Vange’s bedside. “See the light?” he asked blankly.
It was only later she realized it was not a rhetorical question.
“Don’t you see?” he asked before leaving. “Don’t you see it, it’s
like she’s wearing a halo?”

Kate nodded uncomfortably and smiled, but she
did not see any light, or halo for that matter. Before leaving her
alone with Vange, Deputy Czerwinski said, “She’s one of a thousand
points of light,” and he mumbled his goodbyes. Kate assured him she
would watch for the light as he exited, and then she looked over at
Vange, half expecting to find her glowing. But she lay as still and
seemingly lifeless as she had since earlier in the day.

On the television set, Rhett and Scarlett
were squabbling, and Kate could not help but smile. Her
introduction to
Gone with the Wind
had been from Evangelica
back in junior high school. At Vange’s insistence, Kate invited her
to a sleepover so they could watch the movie in its uninterrupted
entirety. Unintentionally, Kate fell asleep halfway through the
film and awoke to the sound of Evangelica’s sobs.

Kate believed Vange was a modern day Scarlett
O’Hara fighting to recapture her misplaced birthright. Her meager
Portnorth existence was a cruel accident, and she was meant to
discover her fortune elsewhere. Even her name, Evangelica, sounded
vaguely Southern and sophisticated and aristocratic. Kate always
thought if anyone would come out on top, it would be Vange.

It bothered Kate that they had not been
especially close in recent years. But it also amazed her their
friendship endured as long as it had, culminating in senior year of
high school when their competition for Nick obtained cutthroat
seriousness as if he embodied the Holy Grail itself. She never
found it within herself to forgive Vange for nonchalantly seducing
Nick at a senior year Christmas party. Even though Nick was dating
Chelsea at the time, Kate understood his motives. He wanted to be
the bad guy and take the rap for their relationship not working
out. Such a sacrificial move only served to make him more appealing
in her eyes, and Vange’s shameless transgression ultimately drove a
deeper wedge between them.

The hustle and bustle of the hospital
refrained from seeping into Evangelica’s quiet, secluded room, and
it was barren except for Kate’s gift of a tiny African violet
plant. She positioned it where she thought Evangelica would find it
while waking. Kate doubted her father or stepmother had bothered to
visit Vange all afternoon.

No matter how many hours she invested, Kate
could not figure out her “step monster.” Shayla was so overly
friendly to Kate it seemed as if she was trying to make up for her
failings with her own daughter. Maybe Shayla felt so dwarfed by the
memory of Kate’s dead mother she overcompensated in order to
measure up to Kate’s expectations of what a mother should be. Kate
was too tired to sort it all out. Her father and stepmother aside,
all she wanted was her wedding to take place without a hitch, but
the biggest hitch lay alongside her hanging onto life by a
thread.

“Hey,” Kate whispered to Evangelica, “your
favorite movie is on. I’ve been watching it, and this time I
haven’t fallen asleep once.” She sighed and set the package down
next to the hospital bed. Kate cautiously touched her comatose
stepsister’s arm. She had no idea whether or not Vange could hear
her, but a few things needed to be said.

“I—I’m sorry,” Kate began. “I’m sorry for not
being a better friend to you.”

Last night, Vange acted especially hostile
toward her, and it was obvious to anyone paying attention. “You’re
not exactly subtle when you decide to give someone the cold
shoulder.” Kate stood beside the bed, and struggled to find the
right words, but she soon discovered it was easier to talk to
Evangelica as she lay comatose than it had been when she walked
around healthy.

“I—I used to think you were jealous of me
because I had a real family, and now that you’re part of my family,
I bet it doesn’t seem so real anymore, does it? At least not up
close.” Kate paused, and she looked over to the little plant she
purchased from the hospital gift store. She wondered if all the
plants inevitably ended up back in the store, resold once their
semi-conscious keepers departed. She couldn’t bring herself to say
the word dead as it would be like issuing it an invitation. Kate
wished she had bought a huge floral bouquet from the flower shop
like the ones Nick sent her, and she wondered when was the last
time anyone bought Vange flowers.

Remembering how they used to turn green with
envy because Chelsea always got whatever she wanted since her
parents were divorced. Kate shook her head, looked away, and said,
“There was never any reason to be jealous, Vangie.”

The thought of watching any more of the movie
alone distressed her and she blurted with overwhelming emotion, “I
was never strong like you, and I was never smart like Chelsea.”
They were her two best friends all through grade school and high
school, and she always felt as if she could not measure up. She
always overcompensated in different ways. To Chelsea, who had every
material thing in the world, she always placed special emphasis on
the fact she had Nick, and to Vange, who had nothing really, Kate
used to stress all the material things she possessed that Vange did
not.

“It always comes down to things, doesn’t it?
Once I marry Nick, I’ll never want for anything, but that’s about
all it amounts to, material objects. Stuff and more stuff,” Kate
said. She smiled down at Vange and wiped away her tears. “I never
really liked you, and you always knew it. You were just someone to
make me feel better about myself when I came home from Chelsea’s
house.”

Kate laughed to herself, satisfied at last
that she finally admitted it out loud. “And you always saw through
me, but you never held it against me.” It was too bad Vange was not
awake, thought Kate, because she always counted on her for real
honest feelings. Vange’s brand of honesty and integrity made Kate
uneasy; it still did.

What would Vange say to her if she could sit
up at this moment? No doubt it would be, Frankly, my dear, I don’t
give a damn.

The movie droned on in the background, and
Kate reached for the package she set aside earlier. She once again
unwrapped the tasteful off-white dress her mother had intended to
wear to her wedding. When had she ordered this dress? It must have
been before she got sick and went to the hospital for the last
time. It would have been a little over a year ago. She must have
known somewhere within herself she would never wear it, this dress
Kate held in front of her. Staring into the mirror, the color
warmed Kate’s olive complexion and darkened her nearly black hair.
Kate felt transformed into a younger version of her mother, and it
was not an altogether uncomfortable feeling.

At that moment, the hospital door swung open
and Nick’s father, Dr. Paull briskly entered. He looked tired, but
he registered pleasant surprise when he saw his future daughter
in-law. He generously offered her a hug and asked if she was
keeping dutiful watch over his star patient. Kate watched as the
doctor administered her stepsister a brief but thorough checkup.
Kate studied his facial expressions intently for an indication of
how Vange might be fairing.

“How is she, Doc?” Kate finally asked.

“I’m hopeful,” Dr. Paull said as he monitored
her vital statistics.

“Could you be more specific? Please, for
me?”

“I won’t burden you with the technicalities
involved or the likelihood of recovery,” Dr. Paull said. “Kate, you
just concentrate on becoming a member of my family, and leave the
medical problems to me.”

“But—

“No buts about it, you just keep Evangelica
in your prayers, it’s all you can do for her now,” Dr. Paull said,
and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“I—I don’t understand why it had to happen
this way,” Kate said confused. She enjoyed his strong show of
support, for it was not unfamiliar. Out of all Nick’s relatives,
she felt the most comfortable with his father.

“Life is a messy thing, Katie,” Dr. Paull
said softly. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and looked
intently into her dark worried eyes. “Let me share a secret. You
can’t always count on getting an answer, and in the scheme of
things they’re next to meaningless.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Faith is a wonderful thing, Kate. It’s not
necessarily important in what, or where, you entrust faith just so
long as you have it, and you nurture it because sooner or later,
there comes a time when you need it. And you will need it.” He
hugged her once again as she thanked him repeatedly. She was
grateful for his wisdom and accepting nature.

“Thank you, so much for your words of
wisdom.”

With a lighthearted smile, the doctor asked,
“Have I thanked you yet today, or told you how glad I am you’re
marrying my son?” The movie credits rolled as the glorious sweeping
music played in the background, and he continued, “Nick has a
splendid future ahead of him in medicine. He will be a fine doctor,
and I’m confident he’ll be served well with you by his side.”

“Why’s that, dad?” Kate asked. “Flatter
me.”

“Nick has a great heart, and he’s generous to
a fault, so he needs someone with your practical frugality and your
wealth of reserve, to balance his frivolity.”

“He can be overly-generous.”

“A person like him, who can’t set firm
limits, can easily burn out in this profession. I’ve seen it time
and time again,” Dr. Paull said hastily. He guided Kate out of the
hospital room and walked her down the long corridor.

He advised her to go home and get some rest
because she would need a clear head and extra energy in order to
partake in the evening’s schedule of events. The church rehearsal
and dinner were only a few hours away. Kate thanked him for his
concern, and she left the hospital feeling worse than when she had
arrived. Rather than experiencing anything resembling a cathartic
calmness, she felt empty, exhausted and filled with inexplicable
longing.

 

 

 

chapter nine

 

Radiating glowing satisfaction, Ginny Norris
reclined while wrapped in the king-sized linen sheets she purchased
specifically for their afternoon interludes. She cherished the
anonymity of being smuggled on the back of Ben’s motorcycle and
whisked to his museum of a house. Ginny enjoyed conducting their
romantic liaisons in a time warp, in his parent’s old waterbed
surrounded by palm tree wallpaper. The mid-1970s had been a swell
time; moreover, she had not minded Jerry Ford, Disco, polyester
blends (on other people), soulful singer songwriters, and the whole
me-first attitude that replaced heady Sixties social
consciousness.

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