Freddy and I watch the water for a while.
“Lily?” she says gently. “This is awful, I know. But let’s focus on the present. Is Will really going to care about all this? You were just a kid.”
I think about Monday night. About Will’s concern that we don’t know that much about each other. His specific questions about my childhood.
“Maybe not,” I say. “But if I don’t break up with him, his mother is also going to tell my law firm.”
“Which makes her a total bitch,” Freddy says. “But again, so what? They love you. You’ve been amazing for them.”
I press my palms to my eyes. “When you apply for admission to the bar, which is basically a license to practice as a lawyer, you have to disclose any past criminal offenses. Even offenses that have been expunged. They won’t necessarily stop you from being admitted,” I pause, “but if it later comes to light that you failed to disclose anything …”
Freddy understands in an instant. “Lily. No.”
“I screwed up! I screwed up, and if the firm finds out, they will fire me in a heartbeat. They could report me, and I could be suspended. Maybe even disbarred.”
She thinks for a moment. “But you don’t have to be a lawyer. Your family has money. You can do whatever you want.”
It’s sweet how she keeps trying to solve this. “I don’t like my job,” I say. “I love it. It’s the one thing I’ve ever wanted to do—the one thing I really feel suited for. Law school, working at the firm—those are the only challenges I’ve ever felt were made for me. And the only things I haven’t screwed up yet. If I can’t do what I want to do, I don’t know what will happen, Freddy. I might … finally, truly lose it.”
We watch another cat stroll up to the edge of the water. This one dips a six-toed paw in, shakes it delicately and licks off a few drops of water. “You need to let Will go,” Freddy says.
I stare at her in disbelief. “And let his mom win? But she’s a bully!”
“This isn’t a contest, Lily. It’s your life.”
“It’s a contest and my life. I won’t let him go.”
“But you have so many doubts already, and—”
I shake my head firmly. “Not anymore. I’m fully committed.”
“Because you finally have some real opposition,” she says.
“Be on my side, Freddy. Please.”
“I am. You know I am. But no lie, my friend. You are in one serious motherfucking pickle.”
This makes me laugh, finally. There’s a sudden commotion inside the gift shop, and someone comes flapping toward us.
“Donna!” Freddy cries. “Join us, girlfriend! The water’s amazing!” Instead, she kicks us out. Freddy and I walk back to the hotel. She takes my arm. “I have to say, this feels like the key to all mysteries.”
“What’s that mean?”
She shrugs. “It’s no wonder you have such a hard time telling Will the truth. Look what happened the last time you were honest with a boy about sex.”
“It happened,” I say. “And it was terrible. And I think about it every single day. But it didn’t change me, Freddy. Look at what I was like before. Look at my dad. I was always going to be like this.”
We walk through the lobby, heading for the elevators, but then I stop. “Do you really want to cheer me up? Let’s go have a long, boozy lunch.”
“We can’t,” Freddy says. “Your mothers are waiting upstairs to watch you try on your wedding dress.”
“You’re joking.”
“Surprise?” she says.
I drop my head onto her shoulder.
Upstairs, I slip the key into the lock. “Game face,” Freddy whispers. I open the door.
“Surprise!” Mom, Ana, Jane and Gran are lounging around the room, picking at a bowl of fruit like a bunch of dissipated empresses.
“Ladies!” I cry. “Wow!”
I think it’s going to be hell, but it isn’t. Whether by agreement or chance, nobody starts nagging me about how I shouldn’t marry Will. They’ve probably given up and accepted the inevitable, at the very moment when it’s all become so very … evitable.
Right now they’re deep in the middle of their own gossip battle royale.
“Tell me,” Ana is saying. “Just tell me his name.”
“I’m not seeing anybody!” Mom cries.
“You’re blushing, Kat.” Jane peels an orange with her long, delicate fingers. “You couldn’t deceive a child.”
Freddy removes a garment bag from the closet. I pull my dress over my head. She hands me a blindfold.
“Seriously?”
I’ve never seen my wedding gown. Not a sketch, not a scrap of fabric.
“Last time,” she promises. “I want it to be perfect before you see it.”
I put on the blindfold. I hear Freddy unzip the bag.
“You’re glowing,” Ana accuses Mom. “You’re nuclear.”
“I’m not glowing!”
“You can’t lie to me. I’m too perceptive. It’s my Latina intuition.” Gran snorts. “You’re about as Latina as the girl on the raisin box.” There’s a swish of silk as Freddy removes the dress. Everyone falls silent.
“Jesus H. Christ,” Gran says.
“My goodness,” Mom whispers.
Ana laughs. “Freddy, you’ve got some balls.”
“Shh!” Freddy tells them. To me: “You’re going to step into it. Hand on my shoulder.” She pulls the dress up around me, slipping the sleeves up my arms.
“You’re the one who looks fabulous, Ana,” Jane observes. “You’ve gained a little weight since the fall.”
“Aha!” Mom cries. “You only eat when you’re happy. Who is he?”
I hear a knock, and someone opens the door. “Mattie!” Mom says. “Come in! Freddy is showing us the dress.”
Freddy buttons, prods, stretches and straightens. I pluck at the skirt. The fabric is so soft I almost can’t feel it. She bats my hand away. Then she tugs at the neckline. “Where did your boobs go?”
“I loaned them to Gregory Hemingway.”
Gran chuckles. “Did a little sightseeing this morning?”
“We have the walk-through at the Audubon House tomorrow,” Mattie is saying. “I’m very worried about the structural integrity of the porch. I heard on the news this morning about a wedding where the dance floor collapsed, and eleven people died!”
“Good God!” Mom cries.
“Five of them were children!”
“That was in Pakistan,” Ana says.
“Oh!” Mattie breathes a huge sigh of relief. “Thank goodness!”
Freddy is doing something complicated to the back of the dress. “In general, Lily has appalling taste,” Jane observes, “but I can see that she was right about you, Freddy.”
“I really was. You should give Freddy a bunch of money so that she can quit her job and start her own company.”
“Perhaps I shall.”
“She wouldn’t need much. And anyway, you and Nerge are still rolling in it, right?”
“His name is Serge,” Jane says. “As you know.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
“Bonn. He arrives tomorrow.”
Freddy tugs gently on the hem of the dress. “Can we return to the part of the conversation about someone giving me money?”
“You can’t take Serge’s money,” Ana tells her. “It’s tainted.”
“His granpappy was a Nazi,” I explain.
“He was a French collaborator,” Jane says serenely. “It’s entirely different.”
“Here we go.” Freddy turns me toward the mirror. She removes the blindfold.
I can’t believe what I see. The dress has tiny sleeves and a low-cut neckline. It’s fitted through the hips and then fans out to the floor, with a train in back. It’s got all sorts of pleats and tucks and little things I don’t even know the names of. It’s glamorous, and elegant, and sexy.
Which is all great, but not the unbelievable part. That would be the color.
The dress is not white, or ivory, or even champagne.
It’s a deep, rich, shimmering scarlet.
It’s a red wedding gown.
I gaze at myself in the mirror, in my wedding dress, and I realize that this is the moment that every girl dreams of. The moment when the fairy tale comes together.
But for me, the fairy tale is falling apart.
And it’s not because of Anita’s attempt to derail the wedding. Or because I’ve just dredged up the worst events of my life for Freddy. No, I’m thinking about the present. About my uncertainty, my vacillation. My doubts about getting married. My lies, the way I behave.
What kind of bride acts like I do?
What kind of person does?
I burst into tears. Everyone gasps.
Freddy looks horrified. “You hate it!”
“I love it!” I wail. “I absolutely love it!”
“Lily,” Freddy says softly. “Don’t.” She puts her arms around me.
“I’m sorry,” I sniffle. “I’m probably ruining the fabric.”
“Well, yes,” she says. “But that’s okay.”
“Pre-wedding jitters.” Mattie clucks sympathetically. “It happens to everyone.” That only makes me cry harder.
Ana stands up. “Come on, ladies. Circle of love time.”
They surround me and give me a big group hug.
“Don’t cry, honey,” Gran says.
“Izzie’s right.” Jane strokes my hair. “You know how your eyes puff up.”
“It’s going to be all right, Lilybear,” Ana says. “Whatever the hell is going on, it’s going to be all right.”
I pull myself together, eventually. I take off the dress, and Freddy packs it away. My mothers want to take me out to lunch, but I beg off. I tell Freddy I’m going to take a nap, and she reluctantly leaves.
I do try to sleep, but I’m too restless. I leave the hotel and walk aimlessly. Duval Street to Angela Street to Thomas Street. Olivia to Emma to Petronia. Soon I’m standing in front of an ordinary house. White clapboard. Yellow shutters. Lee’s old house. It used to be brown and tired, with curling linoleum on the kitchen floor, shaggy carpet, an overgrown front yard. Now it’s another bland, pristine renovation, waiting for the next hurricane.
I open my bag and find the business card I filched from Teddy’s wallet. I dial his number.
“Ted Bennet,” he answers.
“Ted?” I repeat.
“Hi.”
“Since when are you Ted?”
“People don’t take a detective named Teddy very seriously,” he says. “Strangely enough.”
“You could use that to your advantage. You’re named Teddy and they think they’ll walk all over you, and you just come in and like, pow! Beat the shit out of them.”
“Interesting idea.”
“You’re a vicious, evil brutalizer. Named Teddy.”
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes,” I say. “Meet me somewhere.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Why not,” he says, like it’s a challenge.
“Please, Teddy?”
He’s silent for a long time. Finally, “Let me think about it.”
He hangs up. I wander back to the hotel. I’m still restless. Agitated. I go up to the room. As I open the door I think—Enough. This is not me. I like to be happy. I am happy, all the time. I work very, very hard at it.
I throw myself on the bed. I need some distraction, something to lift my spirits. I’m about to look for porn on my computer when my phone pings with a text. Maybe it’s Will!
Oh, even better. It’s Lyle.
—Philip and I may need you on a call tomorrow. 1 pm.
—what for?
—Just make sure you’re available.
I text him a few more times, but he doesn’t answer. Maybe it’s about our next case. If there is a next case for me.
I hear a key in the door. Will is back!
“Hey, baby!”
“Hi.” He drops his wallet on the desk. He pulls a handful of sea grass out of his pocket and spreads it on the windowsill. I start to ask him about it, but he bends down and kisses me. I pull him onto the bed. He stretches out beside me. I reach for his belt. He helps me off with my dress. Things are progressing nicely. No fireworks, but that’s okay. I’ll take plain vanilla sex right now.
I reach inside his pants. Nothing’s happening. I stroke him gently. Then harder. Still nothing. I go down on him. I get a tiny reaction, but … not enough. What the hell?
“I drank way too much last night,” he says apologetically. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Can we keep trying?”
He pulls me up beside him. “I still feel awful.”
“But …”
He takes the remote from the nightstand and turns on the television. He flips a few channels and then turns back to me. He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. “Sorry. We can still cuddle for a while, can’t we?”
On the television screen, flames are leaping out of a hotel window. People with ‘70s hair are screaming. I know how they feel.
Because cuddle? Cuddle? His psychotic mother is threatening to ruin my career. I’ve spent the day thinking over my very worst memories. I do not want to fucking cuddle!
Is this what being in a relationship is like? I guess I didn’t notice when we were in New York. We both work long hours, we’re busy people. Down here, on vacation? Will should want to have sex all the time, hangovers be damned. He should try harder. What gives?
I jump off the bed and get dressed. “I’m going for a swim.”
He looks surprised. “Okay.”
That’s all he has to say? “Okay?” Not, “But you don’t have your bathing suit.” Or, “You don’t have a towel.” Is he really not going to notice this very obvious lie?
“Have fun,” he says.
I walk out. The door slams behind me.
Frustration!
I stand in the hallway, considering my options.
The elevator dings, and Javier steps out. He’s reading something on his phone as he walks down the hall, tripping once, almost running into the wall. He finds his door and fumbles in his pocket for his room key.
I walk up to him quickly, push him inside his room and close the door behind us.
“Lily!” he says, looking startled. “Hey. What’s—”
“Got a minute, Javier?” I pull out a chair and sit down.
He adjusts his glasses and peers at me curiously. “Sure.” He sits across from me.
“I want to talk to you about Will,” I say.
He looks concerned. “Is he okay?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” I stretch my legs out under the table and look around the room. It’s smaller than ours. Spotless. Javier must be very tidy.
He tugs nervously on one ear. “Is this about the bachelor party? I swear I had nothing to do with—”
I smile at him. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“I’m trying not to use the minibar,” he says apologetically. “It’s so expensive.”
I open the refrigerator and grab a handful of bottles. Bourbon. Perfect. I unscrew one and drink it down.
“Will really wasn’t kidding,” Javier remarks.
I gaze at him in silence. He’s cute. Geeky, but cute. Freddy shouldn’t have given up so easily.
“Help me out, Javier. I’ve got a funny feeling about Will. I’m wondering whether he’s really the person he says he is.”
“He is.” Javier nods vigorously. “He definitely is.”
I open another bottle and take a sip. “I have a few questions for you.”
Javier frowns. “I’m not sure I should be talking about Will behind his back like this.”
I lean forward. “I need you, Javier. I need your wisdom. You’ve known Will since kindergarten.”
“High school.”
“Whatever. Here’s what we’re going to do.” I’m improvising now. The bourbon helps. The bourbon always helps. “For every question you answer, I’ll remove an article of clothing.”
Javier looks shocked. “That actually makes me really uncomfortable.”
“Fine. Then for every question you answer, I’ll leave on an article of clothing.”
“I really don’t want to—”
I start unbuttoning my sweater.
“Okay okay okay,” he says. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me everything about Will. Tell me his secrets.”
“I don’t think he has any secrets.”
I kick off a sandal.
“His grandfather died in prison,” Javier says quickly. “He couldn’t get into Breaking Bad because the science was too dumbed down. He got crabs once from a towel at the Yale gym.”
“Tell me about his girlfriends.”
“They were nice,” Javier says. “Grad-school types, you know? Intellectual, serious.”
“Much like myself.”
“Um, yeah …”
“Does he have any bad habits? Any vices?”
“He tried dipping tobacco once, during exam week,” Javier says. “It made him throw up.”
This is useless. And I’m bored. “How does he feel about his mother?”
Javier looks startled. “His mother? Fine, as far as I know. I mean, normal. She’s a little intense. I think he seeks her approval.”
“Intense is right,” I say. “Have you met her?”
“Mmm hmm.” He crosses and uncrosses his legs. He stares at the floor, suddenly fascinated by the beige carpet.
I narrow my eyes. “When?”
“Will and I went to high school together, so …” He shifts in his chair uneasily. “And then, one summer during college, I got a job as a paralegal in her office.”
“Did you have a lot of interaction with her?”
He bites his lip. “Not really.”
I take another sip of bourbon, saying nothing. A good attorney knows when to slow down the questioning, let the pauses grow. Nervous people hate silence. They perceive it as a judgment, and fall all over themselves to fill it.
Which is exactly what Javier does. “I mean, Anita—that is, Mrs. Field—she was an Assistant U.S. Attorney at that point. She wasn’t in charge of the whole office, like she is now. They all have their own cases, and in terms of working with paralegals like me—”
“You slept with her,” I say.
“No!”
“Oh my God, Javier.” I put my hand over my mouth. “You did. You bonked Will’s mom!”
“It was a mistake!” he cries. “There was a softball game between our office and the local FBI. We went out for beers afterward. She drove me home!”
“The ride home after a sporting event.” I nod approvingly. “Classic move.”
He covers his face with his hands. “I was drunk! We did it in her station wagon. The same one she’d used to drive me and Will to quiz bowl tournaments!”
“How many times did it happen?”
He tries to compose himself. “Just that once.”
“Stop lying to me, Javier.”
“Seven!” he wails. “We did it seven times!”
“Javier, Javier,” I say darkly. “Javier.”
“I thought I wanted to be an attorney, but after that? No way.” He shudders. “You people are out of control.”
“You’re in big trouble,” I tell him.
His eyes widen. “Why?”
“Don’t you know it’s treason to commit adultery with a United States Attorney?”
His brow furrows. “No it isn’t.”
“Well, it’s not very nice! And the mother of your best friend? I should tell Will.”
He looks panicked. “You wouldn’t do that.”
I open the third bottle of bourbon. “Fine. I won’t. Provided that you call Anita right now and tell her that you’re going to confess everything to him unless she leaves me alone.”
“Are you kidding? She’ll have me put on a terrorist watch list or something. She’s crazy, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Fair point. I finish the final bottle of bourbon and stand up.
“What’s she doing to you, anyway?” he asks.
“It’s not important.” I take off my sweater and let it drop to the ground. “Let’s get naked.”
“What?” he cries. “No!”
“Why, I’m not good enough for you?”
“No, it’s not that! You’re very … but …”
“You only sleep with women who’ve been confirmed by the Senate? That’s a short list, Javier.” I kick off my other sandal. “And Condi and Hil are busy ladies.”
“Will’s my best friend!” Javier protests. “I couldn’t do that to him.”
I bend down and look him in the eyes. The neckline of my dress is loose—he doesn’t want to look, but he can’t help it. “Javier,” I whisper. “Let’s have some fun.”
He looks away, then back at me. “It’s wrong,” he says.
“That’s what makes it fun!” I pull my dress over my head and kneel in front of him. I rest my hands on his thighs. I part his legs slightly. “Tell me what you like.”
“I can’t,” he says softly.
I lean closer. “Javier.” I slip a hand around the back of his neck and pull him toward me. I brush his lips lightly with mine. “You can tell me.” I kiss him again, lingering this time. I feel him respond. I slide my other hand up his leg. “What do you burn for but never get?”
He looks me in the eye. I can feel him wavering.
Then he says, “I think you should leave.”