Page 23 of Our Big White Lie
“I mean, there’s nothing that says wehaveto wear white wedding gowns. We can do something completely different.”
I thought about it. “I mean, we could? I’ve seen some gorgeous dresses and outfits that were non-traditional. I’m just not sure they’re… me?”
Ava seemed to consider that. “Yeah. Same. I just keep gravitating back to the white dress. But… I don’t want you to feel like you’re punching that ticket for something that doesn’t matter.”
“Thisdoesmatter,” I said.
“You know what I mean.” She looked at me for a second. “I will always appreciate that you were willing to do this for mymom. Always. But if there’s something you want to save for your real wedding, it won’t hurt my feelings. I promise.”
I gave it some real thought, but then shook my head. “Not that I can think of. But if something comes up…”
Ava nodded. “Just say so if there is. It’s our wedding, so nobody gets to decide but us if we want something or don’t want something.”
“Do you think that’ll stop them from commenting?”
“It won’t stopyourfamily.”
I snorted. “No, it definitely won’t.”
“Have they said anything yet?”
“Oh, just the usual. My grandma—on my mom’s side, not the nasty one—keeps asking if I’m really sure I want to marry a woman instead of?—”
Ava burst out laughing. “Oh my God.Still?”
“Still,” I confirmed, starting to laugh myself. “She’s not mean about it or anything, but she’s just so worried about how I’ll manage without a man in my life.”
“Have you shown her that jar opener we bought last year?”
“I told her about it. So then she started worrying about who will change my oil.”
“Aren’t you on a first-name basis with everyone at Jiffy Lube?”
“Exactly! And we pay the neighbor kid to mow the lawn, the landlord fixes everything around the house, and it isn’t like my imaginary husband could fix my carorany of the appliances anyway.”
Ava groaned and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, right?”
That sent us down a path we’d been on many times: ranting about how manufacturers made it impossible to work on any of their appliances, vehicles, or anything else without voiding the warranty. And even if the warranties were expired, it all had to be fixed by someone who could access the internal computersystems and all of that nonsense. I was more computer savvy than Ava, and she was more mechanically inclined than I was; if manufacturers wouldlet us, we could fix our own stuffjust fine.
And yet, a few well-meaning family members—especially on my side—were still convinced that car, appliance, and home repairs were a huge reason why we needed husbands.
The conversation hit a comfortable lull, and we drove in silence for a couple of blocks. My mind went back to today’s mission, and another thought crossed my mind.
“Okay, here’s a question.” I shifted around in the passenger seat. “We buy dresses today. We do the wedding. But… then what do we do with them?”
“With the dresses?”
“Yeah. Neither of us is planning to ever have kids, so we won’t have daughters to hand them down to.” I paused. “I mean, we’ve both got nieces, but…”
“But they might want their moms’ dresses,” Ava said. “Or something completely different.”
“Exactly. I’d feel weird spending that much on a dress and then just… putting it away forever.”
“Hmm.” Ava rocked her head from side to side. “We could donate them. I think I saw something on social media about an organization that collects wedding dresses for low-income brides.”
“Oh. Okay, yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”
“Perfect. And…” She made a right turn and gestured up ahead. “Here we are.”
