I WAS HOPING TO GET OUT OF TOWN BY NOON, BUT BY THE TIME I packed everything, fielded another half-dozen phone calls from each of the brides, and ran all the resulting last-minute errands, it was well into the evening rush hour. Needless to say I was late arriving at Steven and Eileen’s. Eileen, bless her heart, didn’t seem to mind. In fact she didn’t even seem to notice.
“Guess who’s here,” Eileen said as she met me at the door wearing a dress of purple tie-dyed velvet, splattered here and there with flour. “Barry!”
“Really,” I said, with considerably less enthusiasm. Ever since December, when I’d broken up with my boyfriend, Jeffrey, various friends and relatives had been trying to set me up with their idea of eligible men. Steven and Eileen’s candidate was Steven’s younger brother, Barry. Barry had taken to the idea immediately. I had not.
“The minute we told him you were coming, he came right up,” Eileen burbled. “Isn’t that sweet?”
“I really wish you hadn’t done that.”
“Why, Meg?” Eileen said, wide-eyed.
“Eileen, we’ve been over this half a dozen times already. You and Steven may think Barry and I are made for each other. I don’t.”
“He’s crazy about you.”
“So what? I don’t happen to like him.”
“I don’t see why not,” Eileen said. “He’s so sensitive. And such a deep thinker, too.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ve never heard him put two consecutive sentences together.”
“And so attractive,” Eileen went on, while attempting, in vain, to tidy her flyaway mane and succeeding only in covering it with flour marks.
“Attractive? He’s an overgrown ox,” I said. I could see Eileen bristle. Oops. Not surprisingly, Barry bore a strong fraternal resemblance to Steven. “All right, he’s not as attractive as Steven, but he’s okay if you like his type.” The hulking Neanderthal type. “But he just doesn’t appeal to me.”
“But he’s so sensitive … and such a wonderful craftsman,” Eileen protested. “Why, whenever he and Steven have any really delicate carving work to do on a piece of furniture, Barry’s always the one who does it. Steven says he has such wonderfully clever hands.”
“I don’t care how clever those oversized paws are with wood,” I said. “I don’t want them anywhere near me.”
“Oh, Meg, you’ll change your mind when you get to know him better.”
“What gives you the right to assume I want to get to know him better?” I said, hotly. To empty air. Eileen was skipping down the hall to the kitchen.
“Meg’s here!” she trilled. I followed her, fuming inwardly. Calm down, I told myself. She means well, she’s your best friend, you love her dearly, and as soon as this damned wedding is over you’ll probably even like her again.
Steven and Barry were sitting around the kitchen table talking. At least Steven was. Barry was sitting with his chin in his hand, nodding at whatever Steven was saying. Situation normal. Steven came over and hugged me. Barry, fortunately, didn’t try, but his face lit up in a way that made me feel both guilty and depressed.
“Sit down, dinner’s almost ready,” Steven said. “Meg’s come to stay for a few days,” he added, as if Barry didn’t already know.
“Only tonight, I’m afraid,” I said. “Mother’s having some sort of party this weekend and I promised I’d come down in time to help her get ready.”
A chorus of protests from Steven and Eileen met this announcement, and Barry looked heartbroken.
“Oh, you can’t possibly!” Eileen said.
“But we have such a wonderful time planned for you,” Steven protested. “You’ve got to stay.”
Even Barry nodded with what in him passed for enthusiasm.
I drained my glass and took another close look at him. No, not even Eileen and Steven’s foul-tasting and incredibly potent cider could begin to make Barry look appealing. I didn’t share Eileen’s besotted view of Steven’s charms. Steven was tall, handsome in a rather beefy way, and had a mellow, laid-back personality that perfectly complemented Eileen’s ditzy one. But while Steven was definitely not my type, I had to admit that in making him, his parents had done the best they could with the material at hand. And then, flushed with overconfidence, they’d gone and produced Barry. Why couldn’t they have left poor Steven an only child? Barry came close to having the same rough-hewn features that made Steven ruggedly handsome (according to Eileen), but everything was just a little coarser and rather haphazardly assembled. And besides, the human head is supposed to be connected to the human body with at least a rudimentary neck.
The rest of the evening, like every other stage of Eileen and Steven’s campaign to set me up with Barry, resembled a French
farce. I was outnumbered, since the three of them conspired to find ways of throwing me and Barry alone together. But I’d learned that I could neutralize Barry as long as I kept talking. By nine-thirty, I was more than a little hoarse, and found myself explaining to an unnaturally appreciative Barry the reason for the price difference between real engraved invitations and invitations with thermal raised printing.
So much for my quiet interlude in the country.
I did find a few minutes alone with Steven to talk about Eileen’s latest addition to the wedding agenda.
“About this Native American herbal purification ceremony,” I began.
“I hate to say this, because normally Eileen has such wonderfully creative ideas,” Steven said, “but I just think it’s a little too much.”
“So do I,” I said. “Completely ridiculous. You’d be laughing stocks. Guests would be rolling in the aisles. You’d probably make ‘News of the Weird’.”
“Exactly. So you’ll talk her out of it?”
“No, I think you should tell her you agree.”
“Agree?”
“Just tell her it’s cool with you. I’ll tell her I’m researching it. She’ll change her mind long before the wedding.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Trust me,” I said. “I’ve known Eileen all her life. I guarantee you, by mid-June the Native American herbal purification ceremony will be history.” At least I had every intention of ensuring it was.
Steven seemed satisfied. Eileen was overjoyed to hear he’d come around. And I would keep my fingers crossed that whatever new idea she came up with by mid-June was a little less off the wall. Please, I thought, let her become militantly traditional, just for a few months.
To everyone’s disappointment, I went to bed at ten o’clock so I could get an early start on the next day’s drive. No, I couldn’t stay longer; I didn’t want Mother to make herself ill getting ready for Sunday’s family picnic. No, Mother’s health was fine, but she wasn’t getting any younger, and she had a lot on her hands this summer. I overdid it a bit; Barry was so touched by my daughterly devotion that he tried to volunteer to come down and help us with the party preparations and was only discouraged with the greatest of difficulty.
It could have been my imagination—or the influence of one too many glasses of cider—but as I was wishing everyone goodnight, I thought I saw something like a snarl cross Barry’s usually placid face. Perhaps he was beginning to realize that pursuing me was futile, I thought. And resenting it. Ah, well; even a surly, resentful Barry would be more interesting than his customary bovine self.