Paige Turned

  “Pinterest.”

  I close my eyes. “Layla . . .”

  She yawns at me.

  “Why didn’t you call me? I could have come to help.”

  She shrugs. “I figured you were hanging out with Tyler. And plus, I wasn’t even totally sure what I was doing until I finished it.”

  “Well. Next time, call me. Please. This is ridiculous that you aren’t sleeping to get things done for the wedding. Isn’t it supposed to be the happiest time of your life?”

  Layla waves a hand. “Oh, Rick told us that’s all just a made-up thing by Disney to help them keep selling copies of Cinderella whenever they let her out of the Disney vault.”

  Well, that was encouraging.

  Natalie walks over then, a drooling Claire on her hip. She’s shoving what looks like a wafer at the baby’s mouth, but Claire is having nothing to do with it.

  “Come on, kid, you’re supposed to love these very expensive disgusting treats,” Natalie grouses at her daughter.

  “So marriage isn’t really a happy time?” I ask Natalie.

  “Not when I’m PMSing and he’s in one of his fatalist moods. But otherwise it’s fine. Why? Who is married and unhappy?”

  Layla raises her hand.

  Natalie rolls her eyes. “You’re engaged. Big dif, my friend. Engagement stinks. Best thing to do is just accept that fact and plan a short one.” She nods to me. “Words for the future.”

  My cheeks suddenly share a lot of resemblance with that lobster from The Little Mermaid when Tyler looks over right then and winks at me.

  My stomach drops.

  Layla yawns again like nothing earth-shattering just happened.

  “You need a nap,” Natalie says. “Not sleeping well? I did the same thing before my wedding day. I kept telling myself that these were the last few nights in a queen-sized bed without the gargantuan Rick, and I was trying to soak in every second of it, so I ended up working too hard to sleep and then couldn’t actually rest. Want to come over and use Claire’s bouncer? That thing knocks her out flat every time.”

  “She was up late making programs,” I say.

  “What kind of programs?” Natalie asks. “Like to a play?”

  “Yep. The production called our wedding.”

  Natalie shrugs. “Unnecessary.”

  “Not according to every single wedding blog in the entire universe,” Layla moans, rubbing her face. “I read like thousands of them. Millions. Every single one said that guests expect a program and apparently most people now expect some sort of a slideshow. So I e-mailed Peter’s mother at three in the morning and asked her to send me all of his baby pictures.”

  Natalie just shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous! People expect to see you get married. When Rick and I got married, I had a dress and some flowers and we served people some of that pretzel party-mix stuff and cake. I didn’t have a program or a five-course dinner or anything. People walked in the church, saw us get married, and then we had a little reception in the courtyard afterward. The whole thing lasted two hours.”

  “No dancing?” I ask.

  “Nope.”

  “No dinner?” Layla is in shock.

  “Nope.”

  Layla is just staring at Natalie openmouthed like Natalie has suddenly taken on the form of Casper or something.

  I, meanwhile, am thinking that Natalie and Rick were on to something. I’ve been watching Layla and my mother stress out now for the last few months, and it doesn’t look fun.

  At all.

  Someday when, or if, I ever get married, I want a stress-free wedding.

  I glance over at Tyler and he sees my look and grins at me.

  A dozen or so grasshoppers invite themselves into my stomach and start making up for the dancing that was not at Rick and Natalie’s wedding.

  Claire chooses that minute to puke all over the front of Natalie’s shirt and then grabs both sides of her mother’s cheeks and laughs a toothless grin at her like, “Wasn’t that amazing? I am so talented, Mom!”

  Natalie looks at her daughter and then down at her shirt and sighs. “I’m going to go find an unsoaked burp rag.” She nods to Layla. “Just think about it this way. Engagement is hard enough without adding all kinds of unnecessary stress to it.” She smiles at Layla and then leaves.

  A mother has to deal with the nastiest things on her person.

  Layla is still just staring after Natalie and I sort of think she might be in a slight daze. “Layla? Layla!” I snap my fingers in front of her face and she jerks.

  “What?” she mumbles.

  “Did you drive here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was good and unsafe. Peter?”

  Peter stops talking to Tyler and looks at me. “Hi, Paige.”

  “Hi. Could you drive Layla home? She’s a danger to the people on the roads right now.”

  He looks curiously at her and she smiles a very tired smile at him.

  “Sure,” he says immediately, obviously seeing the way her eyelids aren’t creasing in the right spot. “Come on, honey, we can go now.”

  He picks up her Bible and purse and helps her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  I don’t get to see this side of Peter very often. It’s sweet.

  They leave and I look at Tyler who grins at me. “Well, darn, we got rid of all of the people around us.” He reaches for my hand. “So, I was thinking.” He pulls me a little closer. “There’s this really beautiful girl I know and I’d like to ask her out to lunch, but I’m not sure where she would like to go.”

  I shrug, trying not to blush so deeply. “Well, I don’t know about her, but I’ve always been a little partial to that little sandwich shop down the road.”

  “Paige?”

  “Yes, Tyler?”

  “Would you like to go to the little sandwich shop down the road with me for lunch?” He grins.

  “Well. If you insist.”

  I follow him out to the parking lot, and we take his truck and leave my car at church. The sandwich place is like three minutes down the road, so it takes us no time to get there. I come here a lot when I only have ten minutes to grab a quick dinner before youth group these days.

  Their chicken-salad sandwich is to die for and it’s one of their Wednesday specials.

  “Hi there,” the guy working behind the counter says, pulling on a pair of plastic gloves. “How’s it going today, Paige?”

  I come here too much. When the servers know your name, it’s usually a good sign to find a new spot.

  “Hey, Randy.” Yes, I know his name too.

  Tyler grins.

  “I’d like the turkey on the whole wheat,” I tell Randy, not even looking at the menu. This place bakes their own bread and it always smells like a corner of heaven in here.

  “Cheese?”

  “Lots. Let’s go with hmm . . . how about provolone today?”

  “One turkey with provolone. And for you?” He looks at Tyler.

  “Meat lovers.”

  I probably could have guessed that.

  Randy tells us the total, Tyler pays, and we go sit with our sweet teas in the corner booth while Randy makes the sandwiches.

  “So. How’s the maid of honor twice in a month doing?” Tyler sips his tea.

  I shrug. “I honestly haven’t done too much. I’m too far away to really help with Preslee’s and Layla hasn’t been good at letting me help.” Which is abnormal for Layla. She really must be stressing out.

  “I honestly don’t know what a maid of honor is supposed to do other than stand up there on the day of the wedding,” Tyler says.

  “That’s a lot of it. I have a shower next weekend for Layla and then the weekend after that, there’s a shower in Austin for Preslee. It’s pretty customary for the maid of honor to be at those. And I have to give a toast . . .” I make a face and sigh, feeling nervous already.

  Public speaking is really not my thing.

  Tyler barely blinks. “You’ll do great.”
/>
  “You’re kind, but I’m not so sure.”

  Randy sets our sandwiches down in front of us right then. “And here you go, guys. If you need anything else, let me know. I’ll come by in a bit with a sample of our new custard.”

  I perk up at that. “Custard?”

  He nods, eyes big. “It’s amazing, Paige. You’ll love it.”

  Tyler grins at me as he holds his hands across the table. “Well, I guess I know what’s for dessert.” I take his hands and he bows his head. “Lord, thank You for this food and for this company and please watch over Layla and Peter as they get closer to their wedding date and may You just grant us a wonderful lunch that ends with custard. Amen.”

  I grin and take a bite of my sandwich. “So. What do you have going on this week?”

  “I have a lot of work to do. Same story as always.”

  “You work too much.”

  He shrugs. “I’m single. I live in a cheap apartment. This is the only time in my life where I can work a lot and save a lot without having all the guilt about having a wife or kids at home, so I might as well do it, right?”

  Well, when he puts it like that . . .

  “Besides,” he takes a bite of his sandwich, “you’re one to talk.”

  Also another fair point. Maybe it would be better if we moved the conversation off work.

  “So I have a question for you,” he says after chewing and swallowing a bite of his meat-stuffed sandwich. He looks around the restaurant first, then lowers his voice. “My mom is coming to town.”

  I wait for him to finish talking and ask me whatever the question was, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, looking at me pensively with his blue eyes.

  “And?” I say finally.

  “And she’s coming to town and I’d really like for you to meet her.”

  Tyler’s mom is not a Christian. She apparently rarely visits him or his sister. Which is weird because his sister just had a baby and you’d think if your child just had one, you’d be there before the baby was even born.

  That’s what my mom has already arranged with me anyway. One night she called me at midnight after I’d already been in bed for two hours and went off on this story about her dear friend whose daughter didn’t want her there when her grandchild was born. “Promise me!” Mom cried. “Promise me that when you are pregnant and in labor that I can be there to meet my grandbaby!”

  Considering she asked me this at midnight, I probably would have promised to name the child after her too. I’m not too coherent past a certain point. I’m not a morning person. I’m not a night person. I just like my bed.

  I nod to Tyler. “Of course I’ll meet her.”

  “Really?” He reacts like I just agreed to go skydiving over Paris with him. His eyes are all wide and dilated, and he’s twisting his napkin in his lap.

  I immediately worry. “Wait, why are you acting like this?”

  “Acting like what? I’m not acting like anything.”

  “You look like you just came from the eye doctor. Your pupils are all dilated.”

  He starts rubbing his fists into his eyes. “Oh, that’s probably from all the preservatives in the meat.”

  “I think not.”

  He sighs. “I just . . . I guess to be fair, I need to give you a little warning. I don’t talk much about my mom because I don’t see her very much. Which, honestly, isn’t really a bad thing. I just . . .” he trails off again, looking in the back of the restaurant.

  Randy sees his stare, nods, and comes over right then with two wooden excuses for a spoon with vanilla custard on top.

  “Ready for your tasting then?”

  I’m not done with my sandwich, but that’s never stopped me from eating ice cream before. I take the stick from Randy, slurp the custard down, and immediately order a cup of it after he shows me the sizes of the cone and the cup.

  “I have vanilla, chocolate, chocolate chip, or peach,” Randy says to me.

  That song about one of these things doesn’t belong started playing through my head, and I frowned at him. “Peach?”

  He shrugs. “Apparently it’s a southern thing?”

  “Right. Can I have half chocolate and half vanilla?”

  “Yep. For you?” He looks at Tyler.

  “Chocolate. All chocolate.”

  I knew there was a reason I liked this guy. He looks cute today, but he looks cute every day. His blond hair is curly and totally out of control. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt under a checkered button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and the shirt just makes his eyes look even bluer.

  “So,” I say. “Back to the topic at hand.”

  “Mom called last week and said she wanted to come see me. Said it had been too long and she couldn’t even remember what I looked like.”

  I nod. “Usually a good sign that it’s been too long.”

  “She’s coming next weekend.” Tyler rubs the back of his neck and winces at me. “Here’s the thing about my mom. I haven’t dated anyone in six years, but the last time I was dating a girl and my mom was around, she wasn’t exactly . . . nice to her.”

  Well, that’s cheery news.

  Randy sets our frozen custard down in front of us, and the cup suddenly seems tiny.

  “We might need more of this,” I tell him.

  “You just let me know.” Randy nods and leaves.

  I dig my spoon in the creaminess, eat a bite, and let the sugary milk work its magic on my brain.

  “So,” I say again, slowly. “Your mom is mean.”

  “No, no. She’s not mean, per se.”

  “Per se?”

  “She’s more of . . . just a little . . . hmm . . .” He stops talking and squints at my right shoulder. I am inhaling the ice cream.

  “What?” I finally ask when he has been staring at my shoulder for an entire minute.

  “I can’t find the right word to describe her.” He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his cell phone. “I’m going to make a call.”

  “What are you going to do? Ask her to describe herself?”

  He grins at me. “There’s an idea. No, I’m calling Stef.” He tucks the phone against his ear and takes a bite of custard while it’s apparently ringing. A second later he brightens. “Hey, sis. Question for you. How would you describe Mom?”

  I’m making seriously good time on my ice cream.

  All kinds of new things are coming out about Tyler. Crazy past, crazy mom, crazy curly hair. Though, to be fair, I knew about the hair.

  Tyler’s talking to Stef. “What? No, like what word would you use to describe her personality? A clean word, Stef.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What? Oh, because I’m sitting here talking to Paige and Mom is coming into town next weekend. I’m trying to prepare her.”

  He gives me a weird look. “I mean, I guess . . . okay.” He hands the phone over to me, and I just look at it blankly like I’ve never seen such an object before. “It’s Stef,” he says.

  Yes. I knew that.

  “She wants to talk to you.”

  I take the phone, swallowing a bite of ice cream too quickly. I will pay for this with a brain freeze.

  “Hello?” I ask, not quite sure what to expect.

  “Paige!” Stef sounds like a higher pitched version of her brother. “It is so good to talk to you! I’ve heard a million things about you, of course. I think it’s so wonderful you are dating my brother! Goodness knows he needs a good woman out there. When I saw him right before he met you, he looked gloomier than a man who lost a bet and had to try out for the Rockettes, if you know what I mean.”

  I grin. I have a feeling I will get along well with Stef.

  She is still talking. “Anyway, I only have like five minutes because Kamden is going to need to nurse here, and I just still haven’t gotten the whole one-handed nursing thing down, you know?”

  I did not know, but it really only took two minutes of talking with Stef to realize that she didn’t really need an actual human to be listening to ha
ve this conversation.

  “So, Tyler just said my mom is coming there? Next weekend? That’s great and all and I’m sure he wants you to meet her and honestly I’m very jealous because I really wanted to be the first person to meet you, but this whole having a baby and not really being able to function without my nursing pillow or my little inner tube is still an issue as far as traveling.” She pauses. “I tore really bad in labor so I have to sit on a little mini inner tube.”

  And that’s all I needed to know about that.

  “So I’m glad you’ll get to meet Mom because it will give you a lot of insight into the saving grace of God because without Jesus, Tyler and I would have ended up just like her.”

  Tyler is eating his ice cream and just smiling at me in a sweet way. And I sort of realize right then that Tyler wants me to like his family. It’s adorable in a way that sort of makes me want to put my head between my knees and practice my deep breathing.

  “Anyway, Mom isn’t mean but she is sort of self-righteous. She has this way of making people feel like they could be compared to gnats and probably would lose to the gnat as far as the value scale went.”

  Well, that’s encouraging news.

  “Just try not to pay attention to it. She only acts that way because she doesn’t know Jesus, so just keep reminding yourself of that. And also just remember that she treats everyone like that, so don’t think of it as a diss on you personally.”

  “Okay,” I say. A tiny baby starts crying on the phone.

  “All right. Well, I got to go. If this kid continues to eat like this as a teenager, we are going to need to take out a second mortgage to pay for food. Tell my brother I love him. Nice to talk to you, Paige!”

  She hangs up and I hand Tyler his phone. “She loves you.”

  “She has to. So, what did she tell you about Mom? Anything helpful?”

  I nod and down the rest of my ice cream and wave to Randy for seconds. “Lots of helpful things. So when does she get here?”

  “Not until late Saturday night. And she’s apparently leaving Monday.”

  I’m not sure why you would bother coming for such a short visit, but I don’t say that.

  Another thought hits me as I’m waiting for the second round of custard. Maybe I should clear it with Mom first, but if I’m meeting his mother . . .