Yes, Lila will be just fine, she thinks.
But then she sees Gary come out of the bank and put the money in his wallet, the wallet in his pocket, and something about this looks so final to Phoebe. He looks like such a groom, clean-shaven, putting money in his wallet to pay the vendors for his wedding. And Phoebe feels like the maid of honor again, with the box of booze heavy in the back seat.
She is loyal to Lila now. Loyal to the production that is this wedding—that’s the truth of it.
When Gary gets back in the car, he says, “Should we finish our conversation?”
But Phoebe says no. “I honestly don’t think there’s anything left to say.”
Phoebe just drives.
WHEN THEY STEP in the lobby, the hotel feels very empty. Like a stage just before the big performance. Everybody must be off doing their last-minute tasks before the rehearsal, getting dressed in their costumes.
Gary and Phoebe are quiet in the elevator, quiet as Gary carries his tux and Phoebe carries the box of liquor down the hallway. Gary says, “Do you mind holding this?” and gives her the tux as he gets his key. It feels so intimate, like they are opening the door to their home after a long day of errands.
But before they enter, there is Lila coming out of her room. Lila looks at Gary and then back at Phoebe. A flicker of realization—Phoebe is certain that she saw it. Certain that Lila knows. Women can feel these things. They know. Phoebe knew. Phoebe knew in that moment when she saw her husband laugh with Mia. Love is visible—it paints the air between two people a different color, and everyone can see it.
But all Lila says is, “Gary, oh my God, your face looks so different!”
“Good different?” Gary asks. “Or bad different?”
Bad different, Phoebe thinks. He is the clean-shaven groom ready for his ceremony. A man she will probably never get to know. By the time the beard starts to grow back, they will be strangers again.
“Good different, of course,” Lila says.
Phoebe puts the booze down on the desk. Outside through the window, Phoebe can see Carlson setting up the chairs for the rehearsal dinner tonight. Phoebe feels a fog of grief, a sudden depression moving in like an afternoon storm. Like if she doesn’t run now, it’ll take her alive.
“I should go get ready,” Phoebe says.
Lila gives Phoebe a big strong hug like she did the first day they met. Maybe Lila doesn’t know. Maybe all Lila can feel right now is fear of what Lila doesn’t want, all the bad things circling around her like a boa constrictor, closing in tight.
“Two things,” Lila says. “It’s just you and me driving to the wedding tomorrow. And can you make sure my mother doesn’t get too drunk tonight? Apparently, she started drinking at two. Why does she do that?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but Phoebe can’t help herself.
“She can’t drink at night,” Phoebe says. “You’ll understand, when you’re older.”
Lila’s mother is sober by the time they get to the Breakers.
“Honestly, I’m ready for a nap,” Patricia says to Phoebe.
In the Great Hall, the wedding people are all lined up in order of importance, as decided by Nancy, the events planner for the Preservation Society. First there is Gary’s cousin Roy, the officiant for the wedding, likely the only family event at which he has been deemed the least important. Then the groom’s parents. The flower girl, the ring bearer. The bridesmaids. The maid of honor. The mother of the bride and her grandmother. And, then, of course, the bride.
“Do not touch the walls. Do not touch the windows,” Nancy says. “Do not touch anything here but your spouse! I find that’s generally a good rule for life, and also the Breakers.”
Everyone laughs.
“I’ll be back,” Nancy says. “And when I come back, be ready.”
As soon as she leaves, people slacken. Marla walks over to introduce her son, Oliver, to Phoebe, because Phoebe is a professor of literature. Oliver gets excited about this in a way a twelve-year-old child normally does not.
“I’ve read all the Percy Jackson books,” Oliver says. “My favorite by far is The Titan’s Curse. Have you ever read it?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Phoebe says.
Oliver looks disappointed but then runs off with Juice to see who can get closest to the walls without touching them.
Bootsie starts pointing out the things she finds most objectionable about the Breakers to Lila and Patricia, while Phoebe gets a phone call from her husband. She puts her phone on silent. She doesn’t want to hear his voice tonight. Not here, in this Great Hall, which feels more like a courtyard. Not now, not tonight. Phoebe is already confused enough. She drops the phone back in her purse, and Marla pulls out hers.
“I sent my last sext to Robert before he got on the plane this morning,” Marla whispers to Phoebe. “He hasn’t responded since, and now I’m worried it’s weird.”
“Why would it be weird? Isn’t he right there?” Phoebe asks, looking at a tall, thin man who has walked over to get the kids away from the walls.
“Yeah, that’s why it’s weird. I told him that my tiny little pussy is wet and waiting for him, and then we just greet each other at the Breakers with dry kisses on the cheek,” Marla says. “I mean, shouldn’t we be beyond this stage now? We’ve been married for fifteen years.”
“Maybe it’s the right place to be,” Phoebe says. “If you’re starting over, you’re starting over.”
Then Nancy returns and says, “Go, go, go!” as if they are kids entering a soccer field for the big game. When Phoebe walks past Nancy and through the door, she waits for a slap on the ass that never comes.
Outside, the sun is bright. She takes slow steps toward the pergola. She pauses in front of it, in front of Gary. She looks at Gary’s face, but the sun is too bright behind him. She keeps her eyes low, focused on Jim’s shiny shoes. She wonders if they were the same ones he wore to Wendy’s funeral.
Phoebe walks to the left, completes the line of women that will stand at Lila’s side. From there, she watches Lila walk slowly up the aisle in her white reception dress. Lila beams at Gary so brightly, it feels like the moment in the barbershop is long forgotten. It feels like all of the moments that came before this one are irrelevant. This is what the wedding ritual does to Phoebe—even just the rehearsing of it: Nothing can compete.
“Okay, then we’ll cut the music and you stand here and look deeply into each other’s eyes,” Nancy says, and she turns to Roy. “Then you will say whatever meaningful thing it is you are going to say.”
“And then we’ll be married and hooray,” Lila says.
They kiss, just for good measure.
