Lily White Lies(10)

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It had been five days since the missed dinner party and it was fair to say that a scuffle hadn’t bruised our version of normality. Brian went about his daily business uninterrupted and I continued to run myself ragged with last minute wedding arrangements. As the wedding grew close, I began to feel like a one-man band, only less polished and much more fatigued by the challenge.

In between details and fittings, I worked and dealt with Mr. Anderson at the bank, leaving little time to get lost in my thoughts or even share them with anyone. I had been anxious to tell Gram my news about Aunt Karen, but felt I should do it in person.

Since Thursday nights were racquetball nights and Brian never missed anything he wanted to do, I decided to make a trip to Willoughby while he was away. Cory and Charlotte had agreed to accompany me. I always enjoyed their company, but when Gram didn’t believe what I had to tell her, I would appreciate the emotional support they would offer.

The girls and I met at Sal Latino’s for a quick meal before catching a cab to my grandparents. Through dinner I told them about my frazzled nerves, my aunt and even the fight with Brian, which seemed to please Charlotte.

“You’ll see it for yourself one day. I’m just hoping it’s before you marry him.”

I jumped to Brian’s defense, purely out of habit.

“You know, I may be stuck making all the plans but it must be hard for him, too. I mean, it has to be a weight on his shoulders, taking on the burden of a family and all.”

“You’re not exactly a whole family, Meg.” When she was finished picking the last onion from her salad, she continued, “Besides, I think the weight of his paycheck balances out the weight of his burden.” She looked up, giving me a discriminating eye.

I knew I had been defeated. “I’m not disagreeing, I’m just….”

“Making poor excuses for him?”

Letting out a stifled laugh, I answered, “Kind of looks that way, huh? Is making poor excuses supposed to be part of the new wife’s job?”

Cory offered an answer. “Only if he’s a poor excuse for a husband.”

After a round of laughter, we each settled into our own thoughts while we finished our meals. I glanced up, secretly hoping to see the handsome waiter from our last visit standing over our table.

As if reading my mind, Charlotte tapped Cory on the arm, and said, “Looks like Olive’s bored with Bluto. She’s got eyes for Popeye.”

They would have seen through any protest I could offer.

“Well, he was easy on the eyes.” Pushing my plate aside, I turned to Cory. “By the way, you never said, did you give him my name and number when he asked for it?”

She answered with one of her scheming smiles.

“Did you want me to?”

I knew I shouldn’t have asked her that question, but the words were on their way out before I could stop them. Not only was she not going to give me a straight answer, but now she and Charlotte each knew there was more interest than what was fitting for a woman who was about to give her hand in marriage.

Charlotte must have seen the concerned look on my face. She reached over and took hold of my hand, saying, “We’re only ruffling your feathers, Meg. There’s no harm in looking at the menu. As long as you don’t order anything, there’s no bill to pay and no mess to clean up.”

Cory sat silently. When the discussion turned serious, Cory usually let Charlotte do most of the talking. Although her good humor had a way of lifting the spirits of a fallen conversation, she was astute enough to know when Charlotte’s soothing sensibility was more appropriate.

“Meg, I know I give you a hard time about Brian… hell, as your best friend I consider it my moral obligation.” She paused briefly. “But the thing is, if he’s your choice, if you can be completely and utterly happy with him, then... Well, then I wish you all the happiness in the world.” As an afterthought, she said, “But I’m probably still going to give you a hard time. Old habits are hard to break.”

It was during moments like this, when I felt like laughing and crying at the same time, that their friendship meant the most to me.

I knew I could always turn to them.

I knew they would always be there.

And I knew their friendship kept me from losing my sanity in strong, emotional winds.

Trying to keep the mood from becoming too serious, I said, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”



When the cab stopped in front of the Victorian-style house I grew up in, we were greeted by my grandmother, two dogs, six chickens, one cat and a plateful of chocolate chip cookies.

Pointing at the chickens that threatened to peck at our shoes, I said, “Gram, where did these come from? I don’t remember seeing them last week.”