I leaned over to the bridesmaid standing next to me. “Caitlyn, is there something on my face?”
She barely glimpsed at me. “No, you look fine.”
“Mazel Tov!” Seth stepped on the glass, completing the ceremony and kissing his bride.
The wedding party exited exactly as we rehearsed earlier in the day. As soon as I could, I ran into the bathroom to see what had everyone riveted to my face. Other than smeared makeup, nothing appeared too interesting.
“Hey, girlfriend! Want a drink?” Missy came into the ladies restroom with two glasses of champagne.
“Missy, why was everyone staring at me?”
She put her hand on my shoulder. Oh dear, this couldn’t be good.
“Everyone thought it was beautiful you were crying at your brother’s wedding.”
Okay, that didn’t sound too bad. I could live with that. Then, a troubling thought occurred to me.
“They thought I was crying because I was jealous, didn’t they?”
Missy grimaced. “I don’t think everyone thought that.”
“Oh, God.” I took a glass of champagne from her and drank it all without stopping, before snatching her glass and finishing that off, too. “Mmm, this is really good. I never drank Kosher champagne before. Let’s go find some more.”
Arm in arm, Missy and I went to face the crowd.
An hour and two more glasses of champagne later, Missy and I listened to Emily’s parents welcome everyone to the wedding. With Missy’s assistance, I finally sat for the first time since getting dressed. She and I sat at the table with both sets of parents and Emily’s brother, Jon, and his wife, Susie.
I hadn’t eaten anything since the four donuts for breakfast, and the champagne made me feel warm and relaxed. A little bit tipsy, I had no intention of getting up from the table anytime soon. Unfortunately, my brother had other plans for me.
“Seth’s sister would like to say a few words,” Emily’s father announced over the microphone.
Horrified, I turned to my mother.
“I’m sure I told you,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
No, Mom, you failed to mention I’d have to get up and make an impromptu speech in front of an audience, who believed I cried during the ceremony out of jealousy.
Missy gave me a light jab on my shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
I shot her a dirty look and seized another glass of champagne as I made my way to the stage.
I should have made it quick and to the point. But the lack of food and the abundance of alcohol surging through my system gave me another idea.
I grabbed the microphone, pleased to know I didn’t have one ounce of stage fright.
“Shalom, I’m Sara Friedman, Seth’s sister. I’m really happy to be here today to celebrate this momentous occasion with everyone.” I should have said l’chayim and ended it there. No, I kept on talking.
“They say we each have a beshert, a soul mate, the person God has chosen for us. We spend our lives searching for it, many of us never finding it, and many of us failing to recognize it when it might be right in front of us. It’s clear to me Seth and Emily are beshert. Not two halves of a whole, but two whole souls that belong together.” So far, so good.
“You’d think with all the resources at our fingertips these days, it would be easier to find your soul mate. After all, with the Internet we can meet people from all over the world without even leaving our house. Not long ago, we married the person our parents chose for us. Times changed, and with it we earned the right to choose our own mate. No longer requiring our family’s approval, we could get married to whomever we wanted, whenever we wanted. We could run off to Vegas to be married by an Elvis impersonator without even leaving our car.”
I started to get weepy, a sure sign I’d consumed too much champagne. It was as if I stood outside of myself watching the fiasco unfold and unable to stop it.
“Today, I turned twenty-nine and I wonder if I’ll ever meet my own beshert. Did we already meet and fail to recognize we belonged together? Did I lose my chance already?”
I stopped and pondered my own profound musings for a moment, before remembering I still held the microphone. Oh dear, what was I saying? I decided I better wrap it up, since the room started spinning.
“I’m jealous of my brother.” Crap, did that really just come out of my mouth?
“I mean, I’m not jealous just because my younger brother got married before me and I’m twenty-nine with no possible prospects in sight,” I stammered.
The audience giggled, and I wondered if they believed me, because I sure didn’t.
“I’m happy for my brother, because if he can find his beshert, it gives me hope that someday, I will, too.”