Page 50 of Holiday Wedding
He texts back,Okay. Love you. Forever and always.
Love you, too.I pause, then add. Forever and always.
17
Thursday, December 19
5 days until the wedding
Jenny
It’s our last fitting before the wedding. Caleb’s on the other side of the bridal shop, in the men’s section, with his dad, Dean, and his friend Nick, trying on their tuxes. Initially, I was surprised to learn that Dean was one of Caleb’s groomsmen, but once I gave it some thought, it made sense. Besides Gwen, he spends the most time with Caleb. They understand each other in a way that goes beyond an employer-bodyguard relationship.
I’m on the ladies’ side of the shop. Alvina and I are Gwen’s bridesmaids. Luckily, Alvina and Gwen had their fittings before they left for L.A. Now, it’s my turn. I stand on a round pedestal in the center of the room. I’m surrounded by mirrors, a million unsmiling images of me reflected back.
My bridesmaid dress is a beautiful deep maroon. It’s red enough that you can tell it’s for a holiday wedding, but not so red that I should audition for the part of Rudolph’s nose. The fabric is the smoothest silk I’ve ever seen, shimmering when the light hits it just right. It’s fitted in the bodice, waist, and hips, then flares into soft folds that flow all the way to the floor.
When Gwen showed it to me at our first fitting, I had gotten teary-eyed at how pretty it was. “I picked it out for you,” Gwen told me, her eyes shining. “I want you to feel special on my big day. You should know how beautiful you are to me.” That had tipped me over the edge and straight into waterworksterritory. I had cried, hugging her until the staff reminded us that we only had an hour appointment and they hadn’t tried on Gwen’s dress yet.
Hernewdress. Gwen had been engaged once before, but it ended before they picked out a venue. She had an old dress from that engagement, never worn, that she had donated to charity. I went with her to deliver it.
“Are you sad?” I had asked, as we stood together and watched the dress in its white garment bag get carried away.
“No,” she answered, strong and steady as Gwen so often is. “I feel good knowing that gown is going to someone who will be excited to wear it. That was never going to be me.” She hugged me with an arm around my waist.
“I’ve found my place now. Where I’m seen and loved. With Caleb.”
Her words had made my heart squeeze with happiness.
Now, I’mnothappy as the tailor flutters about, adjusting the dress. She’s a petite woman, with black hair tied up messily into a bun. She talks around the pins caught between her teeth. “Can you suck in your breath a bit for me, dear?”
Cheeks burning, I bring in my stomach as much as possible. There’s the metallic sound of the zipper being dragged up. The fabric constricts my abdomen and chest. It’s so tight that I worry I’ll split a seam. The tailor notices the way it bunches. She tugs at it, frowning. I want to tell her it’s not the clothing’s fault.
It’s mine.
Guess I’ve gained a pound or two since the initial fitting. Not much, but enough to make what was already a snug dress turn downright suffocating. The tailor tsks. The sound causes a rush of humiliation that makes my cheeks glow red hot. A few more pokes, tugs, and disgruntled glares later, the woman stands.
“Okay,” she says, taking the pins out of her mouth and using them to gesture down the hall, “you can go and change into your normal clothing. We’re all done.”
I take a long look in the mirror in front of me and hate what I see. The dress shows off every bulge and bump. When I first tried it on, I felt like Cinderella. Now I’ve turned into one of the evil stepsisters.
“Gotta exercise more,” I tell myself. Eat better too, but that one’s harder. I love sweets so much that it’s hard to say no to them. Christmas is the worst time of the year, with so many delicious cookies and candy everywhere. This is a daily struggle for me, my food-loving side fighting with my harsh inner critic.
Feeling defeated, I trudge to the small changing room. Once I’m there, I deliberately avoid the mirror. Putting my back to it, I reach behind me to pull down the zipper, but it’s stuck. I tug harder and feel a yank on my hair. I must’ve gotten some of it tangled in the zipper. The more I mess with it, the more my hair gets caught up in the dress. Soon, my head is pounding from the exertion of battling with the zipper and from all the strands that have been ripped out of my scalp.
I peek my head out, hoping I can find someone to untangle me, but no one is there. Back in the room, I work on the problem some more but only make things worse. Now big chunks of hair are caught in it. In order to not pull them out, I keep my neck tilted to the left at an awkward angle. That’s when I hear a voice calling outside.
“Jennifer,” Dean shouts, “are you in here?”
“I’m here,” I call back, still struggling. “What do you need?”
“Do you know if Gwen put in an order for the tuxes to come with handkerchiefs? Mine and Caleb’s have them, but Nick’s doesn’t.”
“I told her to get the handkerchiefs,” I say through the door. “I noticed you had one when I first met you, so I figured you’d want it.”
“You remembered that?” Dean’s voice is loud now, like he’s close.
“Of course. That’s why Gwen ordered them.”
