Three Weddings

Norman had asked if it would be alright with the family to marry June. No one objected because how could you? Norman was a widow, and after two years of Thanksgivings and Passovers with the family discussing how tired Norman looked, June’s addition to the dinner table at Rosh Asana seemed like a tonic. The family decided that, finally, Norman was looking good. If he wanted to marry June—if he wanted to marry anybody—his family would say yes. So when the proposal was announced, it was agreed that Norman was happy, and if Norman was happy, that was all that mattered to the family. The Chicago son, along with the London daughter, had their reservations about June—she wasn’t the brightest and had an irritating way of bringing back any conversation to herself—but they loved their father far too much to watch him die alone. The wedding festivities began on a warm day in November at Norman’s country club. The family hated the place, but they all stood hour after hour in the front room for pictures of themselves, of them with Norman, of them with June’s family, of Norman and June with the grandchildren and so on. Compared to the grueling four hours of pictures, the wedding ceremony itself was mercifully short. The synagogue was as dark and unwelcoming as ever for the Chicago son’s family—his wife was Episcopalian—so Anna, the eldest of the Chicago son’s kids, was glad that the vows took only thirty minutes.

The reception afterward was meant to be a joyous affair. So many of Norman’s friends and extended family were there, but the family had a hard time celebrating. The London daughter spoke and sobbed quietly in a corner to glamorous Aunt Evelyn about how much she missed her mother, while the Chicago son, his wife, Anna and her siblings wandered as far away from the reception and from their “new family” as possible. The kids who kept insisting that they were Anna’s cousins were nice enough, but they were weird. Everyone was. Even Anna’s own family was acting strangely. Her dad was standing quietly in a corner, drinking, and her mom insisted that they all go outside, muttering things like, “If only Edith were here to see this…” Anna missed her grandma too, but she had trouble understanding. If Grandma Edith were here, there would be no wedding, but maybe that’s what her mom wanted and Anna couldn’t help but feel the same. She didn’t like any of these people who thought they were somehow related to her, how they had pushed their way into her family. From the way her mom kept talking, Anna knew that from now on her grandpa’s house would never be the same. It was the first wedding Anna had been to, and as she avoided her inebriated aunt who begged her to dance, she prayed to the gods that the next one she had to attend wouldn’t be as miserable.

***

Anna could not have put herself in a more awkward position. She whiles away the last few minutes until the bride makes her entrance coming up with situations more uncomfortable and more excruciating than the one she is in now. It is a consuming enough task that by the time she has arrived at an answer—walking in on your parents having sex in your bed when you come back from college—the bride, Rachel, is already striding down the aisle with her father. As much as Anna hates to admit it, Rachel looks beautiful, and she can’t help but think that Luke did choose correctly after all. Anna looks up at Luke, the groom. He is all smiles, there isn’t even the little crease across his forehead that he gets when he’s nervous. But maybe he’s changed, Anna thinks.

She and Luke broke up about two years ago. Rachel had been one of Anna’s best friends from college. It happens. When Luke told her a couple weeks ago that he was marrying Rachel, Anna wasn’t even that upset. She could forgive Rachel for marrying her ex-boyfriend, even though it sounds horrible. Anna is a couple years out of college now, working, paying rent, acting like an adult, and she likes to think that she’s mature enough to let this go. Anna doesn’t even love Luke anymore. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she and Luke would never get here: here being the beautiful outdoor wedding with elegant chaises, a string quartet, and perfect weather. She knew he would never stand around waiting for her, only her, as she made her way towards him in a simple, white dress and declare to love her forever and always. And maybe with that knowledge accompanied by half a bottle of Maker’s Mark, she slept with him. Yes, yes it was all very wrong, Luke admitted, but it was a last hurrah for them, they were drunk, and Rachel need never know.

Anna has no intention of telling her, but as she watches Luke take Rachel’s hands in his—both of them beaming—and says, “I do,” she feels ill. Physically ill. So ill that she jumps up, pushing past Rachel’s stunned cousins and rushes into the clubhouse to throw up her meager breakfast of Cheerios and a glass of celebratory champagne.

Flipping the seat cover back over the toilet, Anna sits down, thankful that the fancy club bathroom has a proper door that goes all the way to the floor. That way no one can tell Anna is sitting in the stall. She has those strange shakes you get after being sick, the ones that feel almost like an adrenaline rush, but worse because Anna feels nauseous, weirdly hot, and knows if she tries to stand, she’ll keel over. Which is fine, Anna doesn’t want to go back out there and try to wedge her way into her seat. She figures that the ceremony must be almost finished. If she waits a couple more minutes, everyone will be in packs on the lawn for the reception, and Anna will be able to slip back to her car unnoticed.

Someone comes into the bathroom. Anna waits until she hears her run the sink, wash her hands, and close the door behind her before she comes out. Standing before the mirror, Anna leans in close and inspects every inch of her face. Her eyes are still brown with the dark outline around the iris, her skin is still pale with faint freckles across her nose, her mouth is still small and a bit too thin…but nothing sticks out as ugly. Anna’s never been one of those girls who spend hours and hours fixating on a “problem” she thinks she has. Her face is her face, there’s no changing it, and Anna can’t say she’s come across anyone who found it wildly unattractive. Anna stares harder. There is a small bump under her left eye—the remnants of a pimple—a dimple digs into her right cheek when she smiles, her hair frizzes a bit at her temples, but she can’t see it: the flaw that made Luke run. Not that he ran exactly, it was more of a slow, but steady, backing away. So slow that Anna didn’t realize it was happening until he was already gone.

She sighs and squeezes the unnaturally pink soap into her hands. She runs them under the water then dries on a paper towel. Anna digs through her purse and unearths her lipstick. She lifts the stick to her lips and begins to dab the lipstick on carefully, the way her mother taught her, in order to avoid looking like a clown. Anna rubs her lips together, more out of habit than anything, and begins to put the lipstick away but she stops. Gripping the tube tightly in her hand, Anna lifts it to the mirror and writes in the thick, red paste, “I SLEPT WITH HIM.” She stops, her hands still shaking from being sick, and adds, “YOU BITCH.” Anna knows it’s inappropriate to be angry at the bride on her wedding day, and even more inappropriate to let on how angry she is, but Anna can’t help it. And for about half a second, she lets herself believe that she will leave her scarlet message up on the mirror.

Anna grabs a paper towel, wets it, then carefully wipes off every trace of lipstick from the glass before checking her make up and going back outside.

***

It was the planning Anna had been dreading most. She had been right to worry. Her mother and David’s mother didn’t agree or get along during the preparations, and they still aren’t speaking even as they sit side by side in the synagogue. Their moms hadn’t argued about who should pay, what the color-scheme should be, or whose town the wedding should be in. No, the issue was religion, which was slightly ridiculous because neither David nor Anna is particularly religious. But their parents are, or suddenly decided to be. Both David’s parents are Jewish—actually Jewish—so while they don’t mind David marrying a shiksa, they weren’t exactly going to stand by and let him have a church wedding. Anna’s dad is Jewish—not practicing, so Anna’s exposure to Judaism is limited—and her mother is Episcopalian, which means Anna and her brothers went to church every Sunday until they were old enough to say no.

Anna chose a long time ago—when she understood the implications of choosing Christianity or Judaism—to remain neutral. She never wanted her parents to feel as if she was choosing one of them over the other, and both her mom and dad seemed to understand. Until now. The obvious solution that Anna and David agreed upon was having the service in a hotel or club or something, and asking both a priest and a rabbi to perform the ceremony. But when Anna ran this idea by her mother, her mother cried out, “What do you mean you don’t want to get married in a church?” Anna was so shocked she just sort of nodded, which her mom took to mean, “Yes, of course! Let’s have the wedding in St. Mary’s!” David told her later, after speaking to his own parents, that his mother had had a similar reaction.

Of course, Anna couldn’t help but think while her mom stormed off, learning Anna and David had chosen his temple, this problem never would have arisen if Anna were marrying Luke.

Anna stands at the door, watching the wedding guests settle into the benches in the main room of the synagogue. It’s a beautiful space with high ceilings and a grand altar where the hoopah is already set up. Anna recognizes the ornate, golden doors that house the temple’s Torah. She steps into the room and spies her mom as the choir begins to sing in Hebrew. Anna can almost feel her mom’s disdain for the music.

Anna was truly sorry to see how upset her mother was about the lack of a church in her wedding, but David’s family felt strongly about having the wedding here, and since Anna’s family never really showed any kind of religious tendencies—apart from her mom—Anna thought it was only fair. Besides, she had a sinking feeling that David’s family wouldn’t have allowed David to marry her otherwise.

Anna’s dad taps her gently on the arm. “You look beautiful.” He’s wearing a suit and yamaka, and beams at her. “Are you ready, sweetie?” Anna smiles, taking his offered arm, and nods. Her dad signals to the choir and as Anna and her dad walk down the aisle, they sing “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” When Anna reaches her mom’s row, her mom’s eyes are filled with tears. She smiles at Anna and mouths, “I love you.” Anna grins back, then squeezes her dad’s hand one last time before letting it go, and walks under the hoopah.