“You’re scaring me, chicky. You having second thoughts? You want me to go out there and say something?”
As much as that would save the day, I’m not one hundred percent sure I want to call a kibosh on the whole thing. “No! Don’t go out there. Can you just...I don’t know...talk to me? After today who knows when we’ll have time to just be me and you again. So many things are about to change.” An image of a butterfly wrapped in a tight cocoon flashes past me. But my version of the metaphor is far from pretty. Yes, I am the butterfly and this dress, this church, Declan and the wedding represent the cocoon, but the problem is that I won’t be spreading my wings freely once I escape it all.
Grace finds my purse on the couch beneath a picture of the Pope.
I don’t like the way that man’s been eyeing me today. Yes, your Holiness, I am going to hell for my views on the sanctity of the sacrament of marriage.
She brings the purse to me, taking out a lip gloss and a pressed powder. As she reworks my face, fixing the smears and smudges, her tone becomes soothing. “Mia, yes, things are going to change. But not everything. I’ll still be me, you’ll still be you and, believe it or not, Declan will still be the man of your dreams. So what? You’ll have a different last name and live in a big fancy house. We will still continue our daily hour long phone conversation rambling on about random BS, you’ll have me over for dinner as much as Declan can tolerate, and don’t forget our private book club meetings, where we trash Oprah’s suggestions and only read the books covered in pictures of men who look like Fabio.”
I can’t help but smile at that last comment. Even while I was away at college, studying my butt off, Grace and I found a way to get in a cheesy, smutty book here and there. Declan didn’t even know about our secret reading club, nor did he know some of my most seductive moves in bed came from reading those sexy pages. Oh, God, the Pope is looking at me again!
Grace uncaps the lipstick and gestures with her own glossy lips for me to pucker mine. I oblige as she continues her attempt to calm me down. “Just because you get married doesn’t mean you have to grow up. Um, have you met my parents? Married almost thirty years with two grown kids and my dad still plays basketball with his buddies every Saturday morning and Mom and Cindy go on their girl’s get-a-way weekend every year. If that’s what you’re worried about, you’re being silly.”
I press my lips together, smearing the lipstick around. I nod in response to what she’s just said. It sounds about right, but something still weighs on me.
Grace wrinkles her brow, her expression becoming more concerned. “Is that it, Mia? Or is it something else? Do you not love him? You can’t go through with it if you don’t. It’s not fair to either of you.” She gets up and starts pacing.
Great! I’ve even managed to unhinge my voice of reason. I shake away the discerning stare of the Pope and try to explain my innermost fears to Grace. “I love him. It’s not about that. I’m just scared of settling in so young. What if I haven’t experience enough? What if Declan hasn’t experience enough?” I glance back at the Pope, then at the large crucifix hanging nearby. I choose to whisper the rest. “He was a virgin when he met me. He’s only been with me. What if I’m not enough, one day?”
Grace huddles in close to me, mindful of why I’m whispering. “Then keep reading those books! You’re a wild one, Mi. I’ve heard it. He’d be a moron to try and find better.”
I slap Grace’s hand. I can’t believe she’s brought this up, in church. One time! One damn time we went away for a weekend and got adjoining rooms. I haven’t been able to live that night down since. But it’s time to be serious. “Grace, I’m serious. Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
I scan her for the slightest bit of hesitation, but she doesn’t even pause long enough to hint doubt. “No. You’re not making a mistake. I wouldn’t be standing here in this hideous, Barney-purple dress if I didn’t think you should do this.”
“Hey! You said you loved the dress!”
“I’m your best friend and this is your wedding. I would wear a clown suit if that’s what you wanted. But just wait until my day. I’m going with bonnets, parasols and a whole seventies inspired theme. You’re screwed.”
The two of us laugh together, like so many times before. It’s crazy how Grace had the ability to make the nerves just vanish. I was moments from a panic attack, now I’m ready to conquer the world. Well, I’m ready to take this plunge. I’m sure I’ll need Grace in the future to talk me off many marriage related ledges. Like having kids. Thank God, that’s a looooong way off!