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I Always Cry at Weddings

By Sara Goff

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Chapter One

Ava stood on the steps of City Hall under a bright sun.
The white lilies she had picked up at the florist glowed, full of
promise. It was a gorgeous day for a wedding. She checked the
time on her phone. Strange. Wouldn’t Courtney and Brad be
on time to get married? She tried Courtney’s cell. No answer.
Josh must’ve gotten caught up at work, which meant he’d
arrive in a bad mood. She wiped her forehead with the back
of her hand.
Courtney had said they couldn’t be bothered with the general
nuisance of a formal ceremony. Couldn’t care less what their
parents’ friends thought or how many tabloids they made it
into. They loved each other too much to wait another day.
Ava held tighter to the lilies. It’s a matter of personal style.
They’re from the unbridled passion party; we’re from the
cautious side of the aisle.
Josh flew out of a cab with a bottle of champagne. “What a
nightmare!” He met her on the steps. “Where are they?”
She accepted a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. “Can you
believe they’re not here yet?”
“And I rescheduled a client meeting.” He pulled at his tie.
“This is unbelievable.”
“I’m sure they’ll arrive soon. Let’s see, I’ve got flowers and
a pocket full of birdseed, and you’ve got the bubbly…is there
anything we’re missing?”
“Are we supposed to have a gift?” His cheeks flushed red;
just the thought of a social faux pas embarrassed him. “We only
got the invite yesterday.”
“Oh, I have a little present for them, something I wrote.”
“Just what they need.” He checked his watch. “I’m giving
them five more minutes, and then I’m going inside. Why’d they
insist we wait out here? I’m dying in this heat.”
“Please don’t die on me.” She touched his shirt, feeling his
firm chest beneath designer fabric.
Do I Have to Give Up Me to Be Loved By You? The title of her
latest self-help book had a haunting effect. Reading relationship
books at this point was like cramming for an exam. After five
years of dating—since sophomore year at NYU—how could
she not be prepared? In a way, it seemed she’d been preparing
since childhood. Every penny in every fountain went toward
one wish: a husband who would love her more than anything
else in the world.
Josh was quiet.
“Your mother is going berserk trying to get us featured in
The Times.”
“Why?” He looked out over a river of yellow taxis. “Where
are they?”
“Because of our wedding, dummy. The Vows column in the
Sunday Style section. She had some editor come by work this
morning to hear the story of how we met. I think Phoebe bribed
her.” Ava smiled at his mother’s knack for sneakiness.
“How’d we meet again?” He shielded his steel-blue eyes from
the sun, keeping watch for the bride and groom.
“You’re kidding me.”
“I know my mother had something to do with it—but where’d
she find you? On a street corner?”
“Very funny, Josh. At Bergdorf, on the Beauty Level. An
embarrassing story to publicize in The Times, if you ask me.”
Ava sat down on the hard concrete steps. “It’s muggy out, like
August in June.”
Josh slouched down beside her. “This is such a waste of
time.”
“I remember the day I met your mom like it was yesterday.”
Ava rested her chin in her hands. “She was dressed in Chanel,
no surprise, a pink and coral sleeveless dress with yellow
pumps that somehow complemented the dress perfectly. She
was buying state-of-the-art age-defying face cream, while I was
spending my student loan money on a bottle of Allure to get
the free gift bag.”
“What are you rambling on about?” Josh’s expression read
physical pain.
“The first time I met your mother. I’m trying to pass the
time. If you’d rather sit here in silence, then fine.”
“Talk away.” He stared out at the congested sidewalk.
She hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable with the sound of
her own voice. “So, anyway…Phoebe pointed to the perfume in
my hand and said something like, ‘Oh, that’s a perfectly sweet
scent,’ and then in the same breath, ‘Say, are you single?’ Now
here we are.”
“Here we are.” Josh checked his watch. Again.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Ava sat upright. “We have a potential
wedding disaster. Table Twelve. According to your mother,
it’s ‘dangerously mismatched.’ Do you think she’s obsessing?”
“It gives her something to do.” He let out a long breath, as if
deflating. “I thought this was only supposed to take an hour.”
“We can’t leave. I promised Courtney we’d be here.” Ava
looked at Josh, noticing—not for the first time—how much he
looked like his mother, from their light-blue eyes and flawless
skin, a shade of pale olive, to their regal noses and high-angled
jawline. The only prominent difference between them, beside
Phoebe’s ever-bouncy spirit, was the color of their hair, his tar
black and hers constantly changing. “Did you know that for the
wedding your mother is thinking of dyeing her hair amber with
violet highlights? To complement the flowers on the chuppah.”
“You gotta love her.”
“You really do.”
The chuppah. It symbolized the future home they would
share, but it was hard to imagine standing under one, being
Catholic. Thank God for Father Luke. Most priests wouldn’t
do an interfaith ceremony. Of course, it would’ve helped if she
belonged to a church.
The steps of City Hall grew harder. “Do you think they’re
having second thoughts?” she asked.
“That or they forgot they made the appointment. It’s not
like this required a lot of planning. Think of what we’ve been
through the past twelve months.”
She tried not to think about that and looked out at the
Brooklyn Bridge—its gothic towers shooting up from the
glistening water. “Hey, remember that time we decided to walk
across the bridge in the middle of the night?”
Josh smiled, and everything felt right again. “That was a
great night,” he said.
She touched his hairline at the base of his neck. “Seemed
like the city belonged to us. A perfect night with the sky full of
stars and no one else around—”
Little bells clinking and the clip-clop cadence of shod hooves
on pavement interrupted the memory. Parting traffic, the bridal
couple arrived in a horse and buggy.
“Oh!” Ava jumped up with the lilies in one hand and swiping
long brown strands of hair out of her eyes with the other. “Okay,
remember, they’re getting married. Be happy for them.”
Josh stood and squinted as if they were hard to spot. “I’d
give anything to be at The Whiskey Bar…”
She ignored the comment.
“Hello! Hello!” Courtney caroled pure joy, waving as she
and Brad stepped down from the carriage. Her playful kiss on
Brad’s cheek turned into a moment of passion, right there in
front of City Hall. Ava watched with envy…strangling the lilies.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Courtney said when the
kiss was finally done.
“We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else!” Ava gave her a hug.
“We’re so happy for you.” She stepped back so Josh would know
it was his turn to congratulate the bride. He kissed Courtney’s
cheeks in his typical fashion, simultaneously avoiding physical
contact.
Ava handed her the lilies, such as they were. “It’s so hot out
that—”
“They’re gorgeous!” Courtney took the flowers and threw
herself on Ava with another hug. “I’ll press them…to keep
forever.”
Ava gave a hopeful smile and exchanged a glance with Josh.
The last couple they expected to go simple and cheap was
Courtney and Brad. They had the money to throw a knockout
wedding, like theirs would be. Plus they had a vow of chastity
to wrap up. Wouldn’t that be all the more reason to go big? In
a church, or under a chuppah? What about God’s blessing?
Instead, they opted for a public building with fluorescent
lighting and stale air. A room where couples and their witnesses
waited in long, grim lines to get their licenses signed, stamped
or whatever. How unromantic. How could they?
Ava looked down at her skirt and blouse, her long legs in
red opaque tights, and then to Courtney, who had on a pair
of low-cut jeans and a pink T-shirt, both on the clingy side.
Brad wasn’t dressed any better in grass-stained khakis and an
old yellow polo shirt. Here they lost her completely. A bride
wore a white dress of some kind. White wasn’t just tradition.
It symbolized the innocence of a new beginning and the purity
of commitment. Without white, it wasn’t a wedding.
“I guess we overdressed.” Ava blushed as it became obvious
that she was staring.
“You guys have seen these outfits before.” Courtney winked.
“The Bridgehampton Polo Club, a year ago today…”
“When Josh and I introduced you, of course!” They had gone
divot stomping at halftime, Courtney and Brad competing and
hitting it off at once. “That’s so cute you’re wearing the same
clothes. Wow, our first date was so long ago…” She turned to
Josh. “Remember? I wore a vintage bubblegum-colored dress
with pleats down the front. Ugh! I was going through a ‘Carrie
Bradshaw’ phase, on a budget.” She pictured the elegant French
restaurant, Daniel, and her meal of goat cheese stuffed escargot
and peppered filet mignon…warm and buttery madeleines…a
taste of champagne.
“I remember you got a little tipsy.” Josh smirked.
She laughed, as if it were a silly mistake. After dinner,
she had naively gone back to his apartment. In a dream-like
moment, which she could barely recall, she had given up her
virginity. Gone. She felt the sting of regret now, thinking that
their first time could’ve meant something if they had waited
until marriage, until they knew and loved each other, like
Courtney and Brad.
“You look beautiful,” Ava said, softly, almost to herself.
Courtney didn’t need the white dress, the veil. She still had
that special glow.
“Thanks, but bridal magazines are going to want you on their
covers!” Courtney touched Ava’s hair. “You’ll look stunning in
Vera Wang, without a doubt.”
“Thanks.” As if that were her ultimate goal. The happy-bride
smile Ava had been rehearsing came naturally now—but would
she glow with love on her wedding day?
“Lose the tie, Buddy.” Brad slapped Josh’s back. “What do
you think this is? A funeral?” He took out a DVCAM.
“Give me that.” Ava snatched it from him, suddenly
overtaken by a restive energy. “It’s your day, not ours.”
Through the lens, Courtney and Brad hugged and kissed,
really kissed. How long had it been since Josh kissed her like
that?
“Ahem.” Josh cleared his throat. “My guess is that you two
are ready to get this ceremony over with.”
“Josh!” Ava slapped his arm, rather violently. “You’re
supposed to encourage wedding couples to kiss, not break
them up.”
“No, he’s right.” Brad took Courtney’s hand. “You guys need
to witness more than us making out. Come on.”
Josh gave the bottle of Dom to the carriage driver to hold
until after the ceremony, and they all went inside the cool gray
building.
On the second floor of City Hall, they found a room marked
by a piece of paper that read, Marriage Licenses. The manilapainted
room with crooked rows of chairs had the ambiance of
an under-funded public school classroom. An old chalkboard
stood forsaken at the rear. It was like being a student again,
but in the wrong class.
She and Josh took seats in the back, while Courtney and Brad
waited in line to sign in. Josh was brooding, probably hating
the wait. Or it was the room, clearly beneath him.
He shot up from his chair. “I’m gonna find the john,” he
mumbled and took off.
She was left alone among the various couples, some
whispering sweet dreams, others staring nervously off into
space.
By the time Courtney and Brad were at the front of the line,
Josh returned with parts of yesterday’s New York Times.
“Hey,”—she leaned over, keeping her voice low—“isn’t it cool
that they’ve waited for marriage?”
He looked at her with a blank expression.
“For sex,” she whispered. “Just think of the night ahead of
them!”
Josh set aside the paper, leaned over, and gave her a gentle
kiss on the crease of her mouth. “Before marriage or afterward,
Ava, it’s all the same.”
The honeymoon phase of marriage generally starts with the
engagement and lasts up to a year after the wedding. She’d
read it in one of her books. Relish this remarkable stage of
matrimony, the longing for togetherness and the irrepressible
desire to make love, because it will, you can be sure, fade.
Their honeymoon phase had ended long before Josh finally
uttered, “I love you,” as if, for them, saying it and showing it
were exclusive to each other.
Courtney and Brad appeared. “It’s time!”

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