Page 10 of Fathers of the Bride
The barista called his name again, and Andy went back to the counter and accepted his drink. He paused there, obviously considering simply leaving, but then he came back over.
“I thought he was perfect. Every parents’ dream.”
“I hated him too.”
Andy hesitated again, then sat down. “Handsome, wealthy, considerate. He’s completely wrong for her.”
“My thoughts exactly.” And I had thought so. Though I was agreeing with my ex far more than I wanted to.
“I’m not sure what she sees in him.”
Unconsciously, he reached over and broke off a piece of my remaining donut. Rude, but it was a decades old habit. And uncomfortably endearing.
“He’s not her type at all,” he said. “Remember the boy she took to the ninth-grade dance? Adam’s apple the size of a fist.”
“And the boy who thought it was nineteen fifty-nine and his parents surrounded him with period antiques and read him fifty-five-year-old news stories every morning.”
“And that girl she dated senior year at UCLA. Tall. Lesbian-separatist. I thought she might stare my testicles off if I said the wrong thing.”
I froze. “I think her name was Linda. But I never met her.” We’d separated by then, and between classes and sleepovers with her other father, I’d missed Linda’s castrating glare entirely. He must have figured that out since we sat quietly, awkwardly—why does silence always seem so loud?
“Do you think we can be civil?” he asked.
“Well, it’s notthathard, is it?”
“No, not at all.” He looked like he wanted to wallop me across the face.
“You know, since we’re here,” I began. “With Kelly’s getting married we’re going to have to buys gifts and pay for things. We should probably agree on a few ground rules.”
“We’ll split the wedding down the middle.”
“Yes, of course. Has she said anything to you about what she wants?”
“Small. Very little fuss.”
“That’s all she’s really said to me. Though she’d like it in the backyard at Finch Circle.”
“That sounds nice,” Andy said.
“It does—except…”
“Except?”
“Well, she deserves at least a little fuss.”
“She does.”
“But she doesn’t want it.”
He shrugged. “It’s her wedding, she should have what she wants.”
“Absolutely.”
I heaved a gigantic mental sigh. This was going to be the BMW all over again. I really wanted to give her a BMW-style wedding and she was likely to insist on a more used Volvo vibe.
“What about gifts?” I asked. “Should we do them together or separately?”
“What gifts? We’re paying for the wedding.”
