“It is a big hat, Kate,” Olivia says into her glass.
“What the fuck did you just say? What the fuck did you just say!” Kate lunges at Olivia. I see a security man appear from behind a silvery pillar over by the bar. He is talking into a mouthpiece and coming our way.
“Kate. Please, let’s just go,” I plead, pulling my sister away and waving the security man down. He backs off and takes his place behind the silvery pillar. I don’t make eye contact with anyone. And no one makes eye contact with me. I grab our purses, and we leave the table.
“See you at the wedding,” Gwen taunts.
“Like hell! You won’t see me near that fucking wedding! Fuck you, Olivia!” Kate is crawling over my shoulder now and screaming Fuck you at the top of her little lungs. I stand a good foot taller than her in these heels and I can barely keep her down. I am numb. Kate’s curses resonate in my head just long enough to swirl once. Then the emptiness and quiet come again, broken only by Olivia’s words, It is a big hat, Kate. It is a big hat, Kate. I’m a size smaller. I’m a size smaller.
I tuck Kate tightly in bed and escape to the bathroom where she can’t hear me. I close the door behind me and sit on the edge of the bathtub with my head in my hands and cry. I haven’t cried this hard in years. I keep replaying the night over and over in my head and wonder how everything got so turned around. When did Olivia become one of those people in the hot tub at Owen Lynch’s house?
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Dirty Little Secrets
I wake to the sound of my cell phone chirping. I pat the nightstand to find my glasses. The red digital numbers of the hotel clock come into focus. It is three thirty-seven in the morning. I flip the covers back and go into the bathroom.
“Hello?” I whisper.
“Maggie?” It’s Olivia doing her best impression of a stage whisper.
“Yeah?” Who else would it be?
“It’s Olivia.”
“Yeah, I’ve got that. What do you want?” I’m standing on a cold tile floor in my pajamas with my drunk sister snoring in the other room. Last I heard, Olivia was siding with Gwen.
“Are you mad?” Olivia asks.
“What are you calling for?”
“Can you meet me downstairs? Just you?” she asks.
“Why?”
“Please? I’ve got your birthday present, Mags. And can you . . . just let me explain.” I can hear the bustling casino behind her.
“Where are you?”
“I’m downstairs. In the casino. Can you meet me in the conservatory?”
“Where’s Gwen?”
“She’s upstairs in the room. It’s just going to be just you and me. Please?” Olivia’s cell phone is cutting in and out.
“Give me five minutes.” I beep my cell phone off.
I don’t want our friendship to be over. I don’t want to have to go out and find a new best friend. I don’t want to be alone in the world without Olivia. I’m not sure I know who I am without her.
I remember once when I was waiting at an intersection for a light to change. I looked over at the couple in the car next to me. She was leaning on his shoulder. He stroked her hair. At first I reacted the way any single person would—I hated them and wanted them to stop. But then I really took them in. That moment, that little moment, is why people stay together. It could never be retold. It could never be described. But it was that deep intimacy that gave the couple the ability to share that moment together. No one would ever know about it except the two of them. And when the going got rough, it would be that moment they recalled as the reason why they were together. With friends, it’s the same thing. Sitting in a movie theater unable to hold back the giggles. Driving silently listening to a CD. Already having a diet soda ordered for you as you arrive late to a lunch date. It’s the little things. Those little moments that solidify caring for another person.
I head back out into the dark hotel room. What if Kate wakes up while I’m gone? She’ll be worried sick. I’ll just have to hurry. I scrounge around on the floor for a sweatshirt and socks. I slip on my shoes and locate my purse by the glow of the bathroom’s night-light. The room key is nestled in my wallet. I close the door quietly behind me.
It’s not until the elevator ride down that I realize what I’m doing. Kate fought for me tonight. Olivia didn’t. It was Olivia who allowed someone she calls a friend to insult me. It was Olivia who let me leave the bar and didn’t come after me. It’s Olivia who is calling me two hours later after everyone’s asleep like a dirty little secret that can only be walked around in the dark of the night.
I see Olivia sitting on the stairs in the conservatory. She is holding a small gold package tightly in her right hand. The conservatory is lit up like daytime. It seems unnaturally bright for such a bleak meeting.
“Hi.” Olivia stands as I approach.
“Hi,” I say, not sitting.
“Can you sit for a second?” Olivia asks.
I sit and cross my legs.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” Olivia continues.
“So am I,” I say. I’m sorry I stayed. I’m sorry I dragged my sister out here. I’m sorry I didn’t yell at Gwen myself. And I’m sorry you are nowhere near the person you used to be.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was between Kate and Gwen.” Olivia turns her body, and her knee is now touching mine.
“Kate had nothing to do with tonight and you know it.” I twist my body so my knees are now facing forward.
“She had a little bit to do with it.” A vision of Kate screaming Fuck you at the top of her lungs comes to mind.
“Why did you call? Was it to blame Kate for the way Gwen acted tonight?”
“No, I wanted to give you this.” Olivia hands me the little gold package. I take it indifferently.
“Thanks.”
“Can you please open it?” Olivia’s eyes are beginning to well up.
“Why? So you can buy me off? Thanks for the present. It would have been a much better gift not to be run out of your wedding shower like that. So whatever is in this box is secondary,” I say, dying to know what’s in the fucking box.
“Okay . . . I just want you to know that I . . . I was just so drunk. I didn’t stand up for you. I should have.”
I stare straight ahead and bring my arms back across my chest.
“Please. Will you just . . . can you look at me? Something?” I turn my head and look at Olivia. I see a tired, overly made-up girl who in this freakish light looks haggard and overextended.
“Please just tell me you believe me? That you know I would never let anyone treat you like that? I know Gwen didn’t mean anything by it,” Olivia continues. I was almost there, until she brought up Gwen.
“Gwen means everything she says,” I say.
“But she didn’t mean what you think she meant. She adores you. All she talks about is how great you are and how amazing you’ve been through this whole wedding thing. She even said that she thought you had lost a little weight. Isn’t that cool? We . . . we were just drunk, and the bar was crowded. Please, tell me you believe me.” Olivia takes my hand. As a practice, Olivia is not touchy-feely.
“I don’t know.” I want to believe her.
“Just tell me everything is okay, Mags. Please . . . please . . . please tell me my best friend is still going to be my maid of honor. Please?” Olivia begins to cry.
“Don’t cry. Just . . . Kate and I are going to leave first thing in the morning. I just need time to think about all of this.”
“That’s fine. That’s fine. Just please . . . please promise me. You’ve got to promise me that you’re going to be there for the wedding. You’ve got to promise me, Maggie. Tonight was so stupid. All I want is for my best friend to walk down the aisle ahead of me. Just like we always talked about, remember? And we’ll be at that head table, just like we talked about. You can’t walk away now. I need you.” Olivia is practically sobbing. I have never seen her cry like this. I find myself just staring
at her, taking it in.
“I need to think about it.” I’m weakening. I can feel it.
“Did you ever want to know why that night on the bridge was the last straw? The night before I made the decision to get the surgery?” Olivia is almost kneeling in front of me.
“Yes.” I have always wondered that.
“I just . . . I was always the fat one, you know?” Olivia begins. “That night it was just too much. Once again I was being called out and I couldn’t take it anymore. And there you were smiling and . . . I guess I just wanted what you had. You know, that confidence.” Olivia looks up.
“Confidence? I don’t get how we could be friends for so long and you could be so wrong about who I am,” I whimper.
“What?” Olivia wipes her tears away.
“I’ve done my absolute best to be invisible—not confident,” I sob.
“You call it being invisible. Everyone else calls it confidence. Trust me.” Olivia wipes her nose with the sleeve of her cashmere sweater.
“Well, either way it’s no way to live.” I hear myself. It is no way to live.
Olivia takes the gold package out of my hands and tears the paper off. She opens the small velvet box and creaks the top open. Once again, she wipes her nose as she pulls the beautiful necklace from the box. It’s a gold chain with the diamond-encrusted letters M&O dangling wistfully. Olivia undoes the clasp.
“Please. Mommy let me go all out. Half birthday—half maid of honor. It was ridiculously expensive and I should really be moderately embarrassed, but I just wanted to do something extra special for you.” I turn my body around as Olivia flips the chain around my neck. She smells of smoke from the casino.
“Thank you. You shouldn’t have.” I look down on the necklace. It is stunning.
“What are you thinking?” Olivia and I have been saying that for fifteen years. Whenever the other was silent for more than two seconds, we would bombard her with the what are you thinking question. The answers have included everything from needing an eyebrow wax to deciding whether or not to attend a master’s program.
“I’m going back up to the room. Kate might wake up.” I stand up and look down on her.
“Promise you’ll still be my maid of honor?” Olivia stays seated. I am speechless. I never knew any of what she just said. I never knew Olivia saw me that way. Maybe this weekend is a resurrection.
“I promise,” I say.
I turn and walk out of the conservatory with a lump in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes and shivers running up and down my spine. I can’t tell Kate. She’ll kill me. Right now I just want to get back to bed and go home first thing in the morning. My birthday. Another birthday that will go down in the books as the shittiest day ever. I take the necklace off in the bathroom and put it back in its box. I place it deep in the recesses of my suitcase.
Kate rants the entire way home about what bitches Olivia and Gwen are. She replays the night a thousand times, each time from a different camera angle and every time with a new weapon. In one version, she throws a drink at Gwen. In another, she shoves my cowboy hat right in her face, yelling, “It is a big hat, it is a big hat.” In the last and most memorable, she bests Gwen and Olivia in a catfight and then calls the security guard. He throws a bloodied Gwen and Olivia out of the bar as the victorious Kate is lifted up on the cheering patrons’ shoulders. But in every account, Kate keeps the ending exactly the same. “Like hell! I wouldn’t go near that damn wedding! Fuck you, Olivia!” And every time the story ends, Kate looks over to me and smiles like I’m not going, either. How can I tell her about my talk with Olivia in the conservatory now? How do you tell someone they fought for you for nothing?
I drop Kate at her house around dusk and finally drive home. We plan to meet later that night for cake at Mom’s house. I dread it already. It is only then that I remember Domenic. He is waiting for me at home with something special planned. I don’t want to be with anyone right now, let alone someone I . . . someone it just hurts to be around. I roll the window up and slowly drive home.
As I open the door, Solo bounds through the bedroom door and jumps up to greet me. No Domenic. I set my bag down on the couch and search the house. No stuff? No man things? Did he forget? I am petting Solo when I see a handmade card taped to the top of another burned CD. It’s Domenic’s writing.
Maggie:
You are cordially invited to spend the evening with one Domenico Brown who is anxious to celebrate your birthday. Please meet him at Surya India on Third Street in Los Angeles, where he has reserved a table for two in your honor. See you there.
PS: Here is a CD of Peter Gabriel songs that are much better than “In Your Eyes.”
See you tonight, D.
I set the card and the CD down on the table. I call Mom and ask if we can do the whole birthday thing tomorrow morning. I’m wiped out, I say. I can’t see Domenic right now. I’m raw and I can’t stop crying. I’m not ready to leave the warmth of this shithole I’ve lived in for so long. Numbness and invisibility are so much easier than the train wreck this whole episode has turned into. I dial Domenic’s phone number. I get the answering machine, thank God. I hear the beep.
“Hey there, we’re stuck in Barstow so I’m not going to be able to make it back by tonight. I hope I caught you in time. I’ll call you when I get in town,” I say. My voice is cracking and I can’t stop crying. I turn off the lights and head straight to bed.
He’ll understand when I don’t show. I just can’t. The only thing I can conceive of doing right now is taking a shower and curling up in bed. This Friday night is the rehearsal dinner and the wedding is this Saturday. This is the home stretch. I can finish this.
As I’m falling asleep I hear the phone ring and Domenic’s voice. I catch every other word. “Barstow? . . . safe drive . . . rain check . . . missed you.”
Happy birthday, Maggie.
CHAPTER FORTY
Table Nine
Why did I wake up? Why couldn’t I stay in my fantasy world where Ponyboy fathered all five of my children and my best friend defended me in bar brawls?
I park the car and walk inside EuroPane for my belated birthday celebration. I see Emily and Bella propped on benches near the wall with coloring books. Mom sits with her coffee and fresh fruit plate, and Kate has a fresh orange juice and oatmeal. I order the oatmeal also and get my coffee just the way I like it. I sit down next to Bella and stir in the cream and sugar.
“Are you going to the marrying place?” Bella asks.
“Not yet,” I say, sipping my much-needed coffee.
“But you’re not getting married,” Bella asks.
“No, I’m the maid of honor,” I say.
“You’re cleaning?” Bella asks. Everyone at the table laughs.
“How do you feel?” Mom asks.
“I’m okay,” I say.
“Kate told me everything on the drive over.” Mom spears a chunk of cantaloupe.
“We are planning how to egg the ceremony from the street.” Kate is drawing fluffy blue clouds on Emily’s picture.
“I’m going,” I whisper.
“What?” Kate looks up, not losing all her cool, but enough so that Emily stops drawing.
“Olivia called me after the whole bar fight.” I glance at Emily, not knowing how to conceal that her mommy was dragged out of a bar screaming the F word.
“Wait. When did all of this happen?” Kate asks.
“She called around three in the morning, I agreed to meet her downstairs in the conservatory. She started crying and . . . she wanted to give me my birthday present.” I can’t take it. Even I think I sound pathetic.
“You gave in? Again? Jesus, Maggie.” Kate isn’t pissed. It’s worse. She’s disappointed.
“Look. It’s like we’ve said the whole time, it’s just one more weekend and then that’s it. You don’t have to go, but Mom and I will go, and maybe we’ll trip Gwen or something, you know. Come on?” I am talking fast and praying for a reprieve.
&nbs
p; No one says anything. Mom hasn’t spoken since her opening lines. I can hear Bella’s crayons scurrying across her page. Kate lifts her coffee cup and sips. I can feel my temper rising. Aren’t these people on my side? Why do I feel like the bad guy all of a sudden? I’m being noble, aren’t I? Wasn’t this the plan all along? It’s not like Olivia just turned into a raving bitch overnight; she’s been like this the entire time. Oh my God—has she been like this the entire time?
“You’re on your own,” Mom finally says.
“What?”
“I’m not going, either.” Mom is staring right at me. I can feel my face getting hotter and hotter.
“Why? Why aren’t you going? You don’t . . . can’t you just go? Why?” I can’t hide how upset I am, not even in front of the girlies.
“I just don’t know what has to happen. How bad does it have to get? This has gone way beyond anything any of us thought you would put up with. And now, you went behind your sister’s back and . . . no. You’re on your own.” Mom picks up her mug of coffee and softens her face as the girlies grow quiet.
“Can’t you just go to support me? I mean I know this seems crazy, but I just have to see this thing through, you know? Olivia is my best friend and she needs me. Can’t you just go with me?” Why is this new information for Mom? She has to go to support me. I’m being the good one here. I’m being a stand-up person who does what she says she’ll do. What is so horrible about that?
“You don’t get it. This is support. I couldn’t sit there . . . I won’t sit there and watch as more shit gets piled on you. Even you should be able to see that.”
“I know that. But why am I on trial here?” I look to Kate, who has been silent as she carefully monitors the conversation.
“It’s just got to stop at some point. Olivia used to be your best friend, Maggie. But you’re just not willing to see the person she’s become. No phone call should undo how she’s made you feel the last few years. Don’t you see who she’s become?” Mom is speaking much too loudly for the small bakery. Kate and I are used to Mom’s indiscretions. I am silent and crying.