The wedding was in the same town as Toohey Manufacturing. I went alone. I couldn’t even dredge Tim up for a date because he was now serious about some surfer chick, also a marine biology major.
“I am going to save the dolphins,” she told me when I waited on her at the Dock n’ Dine. She was wearing a bathing suit top and a sarong.
“In a bikini?” I said. Tim shot me a dirty look. What was his problem? I didn’t tell her that she would more than likely end up working at the trout hatchery if she stuck around here with him.
Nor did I tell her that here in Keech Harbor, we generally put on clothes when we go out to eat. I did not say these things, even though my new hobby was saying what I thought. I had been a goody two-shoes long enough. If I was going to be a waitress, I was going to be that waitress.
Tim’s girlfriend wasn’t awful; she just annoyed me because it would have been handy to have him as a date to this thing. I wouldn’t have to sit there by myself, and I wouldn’t have to get a ride from Dad and Flo, as I still didn’t have a license.
They were more than happy to drive me, as it meant they would get a look at the Toohey’s winter home. Dad slowly drove through town, taking it all in. He finally pulled over.
“So this is the church, and the reception is across the street and down a few blocks, in one of those big white mansions we went by,” Dad said.
“Which one was the Toohey mansion?” Flo asked.
“All of ’em,” Dad said. The two of them gawked around like tourists on a car safari, waiting to see the species in its natural habitat.
I sat in the backseat, watching the church doors.
“Get it over with,” Flo said. “We’re going to look at a new-for-us kayak, then we’re going to the farmer’s market, then we’re going to the pub for dinner,” she said and handed me an index card on which she had written the pub’s name, address, and walking directions. “We’ll meet you there. They have Irish music after dinner, so take your time.”
I got out of the car and walked slowly up the church steps, timing it so I wouldn’t get stuck with any ushers I knew.
Some curly-haired kid I didn’t recognize offered me his arm.
“Bride or groom’s side?” he asked. “Neither,” I said and walked in without him. I couldn’t remember when to sit or kneel or stand in the Catholic church, and I wouldn’t have Pepper there to lead the way, not that I wanted her to. I sat in the back of the church with some other people who didn’t know or care what to do. We all tried to follow along while the rest of the congregation stood, sat, kneeled, and mumbled their responses.
I looked over at the stained-glass window nearest to me, some tonsured monk in a brown robe. The plaque beneath it said:
Saint Vincent Ferrer Patron Saint of Plumbers
In memory of Joseph Toohey
The old ditchdigger. Which one was the patron saint of plumbers? St. Vincent or Old Joe, I wondered.
Many of the women on the Toohey side of the church wore fancy hats. I thought this was because they had been watching too many historical dramas on PBS, but I later found out Pepper was dating the youngest son of an English baronet. They had met riding. He had no hope of ever getting a royal title. She had no desire to ever work in the family company. They sounded perfect for each other, and it also sounded doomed. Somewhere, the baronet and lady were in attendance, and the Tooheys had been outclassed.
Up by the altar, stood Scout, incredibly handsome in a classic tuxedo. I hated that my heart still lurched at the sight of him. I hated that I hoped he’d see me there and still like me. Not that he’d even recognize me. My hair had darkened to a light brown, and after the gum incident, I started getting regular haircuts and now sported bangs for the first time in my life. I looked so different I still surprised myself when I looked in the mirror. It was the new me. I had also started flipping the bird, but I refrained from that in church. But I was flipping it big time on the inside.
Cheddar and Pike were next to Scout. Standing beside each other, they looked like a bat and a baseball: Pike, tall and blond, and Cheddar, shorter and round. The processional began and the bride appeared. Big surprise, it was Janice from last summer. Her face looked rounder than ever, framed by the giant puff sleeves and the layers of frills along the neckline of her Lady Diana-rip-off wedding gown.
A cathedral-length train trawled the red carpet as she advanced down the aisle on her father’s arm, some congressman from Connecticut. That explained the television news crew outside.
The ceremony was endless—a full Mass. I got up and received Communion, because I knew Pepper would know I wasn’t supposed to. I think I saw Grannie smile at this, but I was probably just imagining it.
I had hoped to escape out the back of the church, but photographers and reporters jammed up my escape plan. I had to wait for the whole wedding party to recess and the congregation to empty out behind them. So I stood there, fake smiling and waiting.
There was Scout. Dirtbag, no—what was it that Steve called him?—a-hole. He kept making this “oh-I-am-so-happy-you’re here” face, even to me. And then came Pan-Face. She had no idea what kind of heel she was marrying, as she was clearly pleased as punch to be walking out of the church with him. She had four bridesmaids: two flat-faced like her, and the others were Pepper and Pixie.
I took a step backward when a photographer from the Bee leaned in for a photo of the bridal party, blocking their view of me. Pan-Face had her bridesmaids bedecked in mint green gowns, with ruffles and puff sleeves that were slightly less dramatic than hers. It was totally worth going just to see Pepper wear that monstrosity, especially with the plaid ribbon around her waist and the big bow at the back. Pixie would probably wear hers again on a bike ride or to pick mulberries.
I suppose, at one time, I would have thought this was great fun, and for a moment, I missed them. I missed the entire clan. Last summer, I would have had a job to do like taking care of the guest book or handing out favors. Instead, I was just another guest.
I finally got outside the church with an old lady who had sat on the groom’s side. She gripped the handrail and took one step at a time. We had a quarter mile to walk to the reception, so I offered my arm to her.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said.
“My name is—” I started.
“I know, dear, you’re the one they called Flipper. I’m the one they call Old Pixie,” she said. I couldn’t help but like her.
We followed the crowd down the street, along a stone retaining wall, above which sat the Toohey mansions: three identical stately white homes across the street and slightly uphill from the toilet factory. We came to a steep flagstone staircase.
“I hate these GD stairs,” Old Pixie said.
“Is there another way up?”
“It’s all uphill from here, no matter how you go. You go on ahead. I am just going to take my time. Maybe I’ll just find a gin mill somewhere instead.”
“I’ll see if I can get you someone to help.”
“Young Cheddar will. See if you can find him. He’s the only one with any brains,” she said.
I climbed the long flight of flagstone steps to the front door of the center house. This was Pepper’s real house. This was where she and Pike grew up.
It was swarming with guests and uniformed waitstaff, one of whom opened the door and welcomed me to the wedding. Another handed me a glass of champagne.
“Please go through to the backyard,” he said and pointed to a set of French doors that opened to a patio.
I stepped out on the patio and ran into Cheddar.
“You came.”
“I did … is there another way up here from the street? Your Aunt Pixie is stranded at the foot of those stairs—”
He nodded, said nothing, and disappeared.
In the middle of Pepper’s huge backyard, a disproportionately large in-ground pool glimmered as phony lily pads floated on its surface. It had a tall curving slide and a three-meter diving board. I didn’t think you could even have one of those in a private yard, but evidently the pool was deep enough—thirteen feet in the deep end, according to the little number painted on the side. I walked over and could feel the heat rising off the water. It was heated. So this is what they did when they weren’t in Keech Harbor in the summer—and not once did they invite me to swim in this nice warm pool.
Its filter hummed along with the jazz combo that was set up in front of the pool house. They played “How High the Moon,” and even though it was just the cocktail hour, a few people—old people—danced to it. That is, until the roar of a lawn mower drowned out the music, and all eyes turned toward the sight of old Aunt Pixie being towed in a garden cart by Cheddar at the wheel of a Sears Craftsman riding mower.
After a while, I found my place card and headed to the big wedding tent that straddled the property lines of the family houses. I feared I’d be stuck with toilet parts salesmen or secretaries, but they actually put me at a good table. There were three cousins from Connecticut—Bubble, Squeak, and Totsie. They were friendly, and they were fun. There were also two of Pepper’s friends from school—they were as awful as her, but nice enough to me—and another girl I couldn’t quite place.
“Hi,” she said. That voice.
It was Skanky! Her trademark black eyeliner had been replaced by a light green. She was wearing a teal taffeta dress with a ruffled neckline. She hadn’t even dressed this fancy for prom. Her bleached blonde hair had been set and teased into a massive updo.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said.
“You didn’t mention it either,” I said.
I sat down.
“How do you know Pike’s new girlfriend?” Totsie asked. My jaw dropped.
Skanky grabbed my hand under the table, and when I met her eyes, she begged me not to say anything.
“Everyone in our town knows everybody else,” I said. Maybe now she wouldn’t give me such shitty shifts.
“What do they call you?” Totsie asked.
“Stacy.”
“Yeah, I know that’s your name, but what do they call you?”
I almost said Skanky. But I didn’t.
“They call her Sunny,” I said. I knew that she wouldn’t be around long enough to enjoy that lovely nickname. Pepper probably called her “Specials” or “Catch of the Day” behind her back.
Then, the bride stopped by our table and said hello.
“It is so great to see you all. Thank you all for coming.” She turned to Pepper’s school friends, “How were things in Connecticut? Is that candy store still across the road from your old school?” Then she turned to Skanky. “I am sorry that we’ve been monopolizing Pike for so long. But you’re in good hands with Flipper here. Flipper, it’s so good to see you again,” she said, shaking my hand. “Thanks so much for coming.”
How does she even know who I was? Had she actually memorized her seating charts? I had to admit, that was impressive, even if it was as phony as all get out. There’s no way she could have remembered me.
“So tell me, how did Scout finally propose?” Bubble asked—or was it Squeak?
“Oh my gosh, you know I didn’t think he ever would. He was such a wild man, and I was pretty sick of waiting for him to calm the frig down. I mean, we had been on and off for years. But I knew he was the one. It was just a matter of being patient. Waiting for him to finally grow up,” Pan-Face said, beaming as she watched him schmooze a table across the tent.
“You were together for years?” Bubble (or Squeak) said.
“Forever!” Squeak (or Bubble) said.
“Eight all in all. Because we met in prep school.”
Listening to all this, I felt stupid and ill.
“We were at a wedding last summer. We were just sitting there in the back of the church, and he turned to me and said, ‘What do you say, Janny; should we finally get hitched?’”
So they were already engaged during the Sainte Anne de Part-tay when he was climbing all over me in Pixie’s doll house! What a dirtbag. Did she know? Did she even care? Would she believe me if I told her? She finished her chitchat and moved on to the next table.
“What’s a Flipper?” Skanky asked me quietly.
“Never mind,” I said and excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As can be expected, the Toohey house had more bathrooms than any house I had ever seen. Just the same, they were all full when I needed one. Cheddar found me pacing the hallway.
“Use the one in Pepper’s room. Upstairs, second door on the right,” he said and brought me to the front hall stairway and pointed up. Of course she had her own bathroom. I climbed the stairs, passing years of school portraits, cookout pictures, parties, there was me—imagine that, me—in one of those pictures hanging on the wall of fame.
I got to the top of the stairs, and there was Pepper’s room. I knew it was her room because it said so on the door, with a wooden sign that had a horse and her name on it. It was so weird that, as close as we had been that summer, I had never actually set foot in her room before. It was like seeing her soft white underbelly.
Her room overlooked the pool in the back. She had a cherrywood bedroom set: full canopy bed, desk, and bureau. Her bedspread and drapes matched, a deep navy with a red and gold pattern of foxes, hounds, and hunting horns.
She had a shelf of plastic horses, each had a doll rider standing next to it. They all had different outfits. There were ribbons and trophies—her real name is Mary Margaret—awards for horse shows, jumping, dressage, swimming—swimming? Do horses swim? No, it was Pepper. Pepper was the champion swimmer! There was a picture of her with her swim team. And another with medals draped around her wet neck.
I realized she had faked that whole drowning episode as I silently peed in her palatial bathroom. I had been played by the Tooheys yet again. I flushed and went back downstairs to get a look at this champion swimmer. There she was out there in that bridesmaid dress, her massive swimmer shoulders on display for the whole world to see and admire. How could I have not made the connection?
I saw my reflection in the hall mirror, and behind me were a group of Tooheys. Pike was one of them. I saw me and Pike, together in the mirror. It’s true we would have made a beautiful couple. Pike caught me looking at him in the mirror and smiled. I wondered what it would be like to stand on my toes and kiss him. I remembered what it was like to have his long, strong arms around me. I imagined them around me as we toasted in summer with everyone looking on in approval. Wouldn’t that be nice? It was probably all still mine for the taking. What the hell else would I be doing there? Just that. I was here to distract Pike from Skanky. I didn’t know why. She’d make an excellent saleswoman, considering how many of her stories end with her being face down in a toilet.
He made his way over to me and kissed me on the cheek.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Flipper. I am so glad you came. I love your hair.” The band started playing “Always and Forever.”
“We danced to this, remember?” he said.
“We tried to dance to it,” I replied.
“How about it? For old time’s sake.” I shrugged, and he took me by the hand and led me out of the house, through the yard, and onto the dance floor. This time, we danced without Scout screaming in our ears. We danced alone without the whole family getting involved. And there I was in Pike’s embrace again. He smelled like that wonderful geranium soap. I moved in closer to drink it all in.
Then I remembered Skanky, sitting there alone in some sale-rack prom dress and matching shoes that she probably spent a week’s worth of tips on.
“So Stacy,” I said, stepping back.
“Oh, Stacy? We’re not, you know, she’s just a friend.”
“Really? That’s not what I hear.” He looked troubled.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “Pepper will take care of it.” I was making him uncomfortable on purpose.
Then I caught sight of Grannie smiling at us. I thought about her controlling all our lives from her throne on Hazard Point. Picking out brides and grooms like dogs and bitches.
I stopped dancing and left Pike. I helped myself to a wedding favor: a box of gourmet chocolates tied with the wedding colors of white and mint green. Then I swiped a second one for Flo, and I left without saying goodbye to anyone.