Atmosphere(77)

Daniel looked at Joan and then at Barbara. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t need to talk about this,” Joan said.

“You’re the maid of honor,” Daniel said. “Of course you can bring a guest.”

“It’s fine,” Joan said.

“But she doesn’t have a date,” Barbara said. “She has never had a date to a single wedding. She used to ask me to go as her date . . . and, listen, I’ll be busy.” Barbara laughed.

“Barb is right about that,” said Joan.

“She was asking to bring a girlfriend,” Barbara said to him, as if this was the funniest thing in the world.

“A woman who is my friend, but it’s not important, really. Let’s drop the subject.”

Daniel looked at Barbara and nodded toward the dining room. “Can I talk to you in the other room?” he said.

Barbara looked shocked as the two of them went into the other room. Joan put away the ice.

When they came back in, Barbara had a fake smile on her face.

“Joan, we would love for you to invite whomever you would like to our wedding,” Barbara said. “As your guest.”

Daniel walked by Joan and put his hand ever so briefly on her shoulder.

Joan was confused. Because while the change of pace was nice, this person standing in front of her wasn’t really Barbara.

“Well, um, thank you,” Joan said.

“I think I forget sometimes,” Barbara said. “That your life is different than mine. It must be very hard seeing so many happy couples while you are on your own. You deserve to have a great night.”

Never mind. She was still Barbara.


On the drive home, despite knowing it was an absurd fantasy, Joan kept picturing Vanessa asking her to dance at Barbara’s wedding.

Joan would say yes. And it would be a fast song when they stood up, but by the time they got to the floor, it would have changed to a slow song. So Vanessa would pull Joan close, and they would sway. And Joan would lead. And Vanessa would say something like “I think your parents like me,” and Joan would say, “I think so, too.” And they would know that everything that was happening that day could happen for them, too.

When Joan pulled up to Vanessa’s house, she resolved not to ask her. It was not a smart thing to do. To go to a wedding together. They couldn’t.


But then as they were brushing their teeth, Joan recounted her day to Vanessa, and it just came out.

“You asked to bring me?” Vanessa said, spitting her toothpaste into the sink.

“I didn’t say your name, just asked to bring a friend. It went about as well as you’d expect.”

Vanessa considered this, but did not say anything.

“I’m not asking you to go,” Joan said. “I know we can’t attract that much attention. I also know that meeting my family isn’t high on your list of priorities, and I completely understand it.”

Vanessa wiped her face with a hand towel and then turned and leaned against the counter.

“I do sometimes wonder,” Vanessa said. “What your mother is like.”

Joan laughed. “She’s not one to really wonder about, honestly. She’s pretty . . . expected. A little vanilla, even—but in a very, very nice way.”

“Oh, if anyone ever said that about me, I’d murder them.”

“Yes, I know, but my mother would not be offended by me saying that. And that should tell you everything.”

“Well, now I have to meet this milquetoast woman.”

“I didn’t say she was milquetoast! She’s just a person who does what society expects of her in a way that makes it look easy. I don’t think she’s milquetoast at all.”

“Well, I’m still curious. About her and your math-teacher dad.”

Joan laughed.

“I think we should go,” Vanessa said.

Joan looked at her. “Are you serious?”

“Do I think it’s a particularly smart thing to do? No, I don’t,” she said. Then her eyes lit up. “But, fuck your sister. And I want to.”

Joan laughed. She could not quite wrap her head around the moment in front of her.

“Frances will be there for a lot of the night, too, right?” Vanessa asked.

“Yeah,” Joan said. “She will be.”

“So even better. She can dance standing on my feet.”

“I don’t know,” Joan said. “She’s got some pretty great moves herself.”

“Great,” Vanessa said. “I’ll dance on hers, then.”

Vanessa walked toward the bed, turned the blanket down.

“You aren’t worried what people will think?” Joan asked as they got into bed. “The two of us there together?”

Vanessa turned out the light and Joan moved toward the center of the bed. Vanessa’s arm was tucked in the crook of Joan’s neck.

“Plenty of women bring friends to weddings,” Vanessa said. “It’s not like we’re going to slow dance with your head on my shoulder.”

Joan did not say anything for a moment. And then: “It’s not fair,” she said, finally. “That part is not fair.”

“No, honey,” Vanessa said. “It isn’t.”