For the Love of Friends(61)
I gave my hair a last brush and touched up my lipstick before I handed the valet my keys and walked confidently inside.
A quick check of my watch told me it was two thirty, but there was already a sign in the lobby pointing to the Donaldson-Greene Bridal Shower. Perfect, I thought, bypassing the front desk.
The gift blocked much of my view. I had gone with a registry vase that was just barely out of my price range, and the box was enormous, especially festooned with the multiple bows and spiraling ribbons that belied a talent far beyond my wrapping abilities.
I pushed through the glass-paneled door into the room where the shower would be held and stopped cold.
Busboys buzzed around the room, piling half-empty glasses and plates into bins, throwing away discarded napkins and wrapping paper, and pulling down decorations.
Setting the gift down, I checked my watch. Then I pulled out my phone and checked the time against that. Both read the same: 2:32.
They must be cleaning up from an earlier shower, I thought. I’m still early.
But there were bags of personalized cookies on the table closest to me, and I could see, even from the doorway, that they said “Caryn” against a pale-green background for a play on her new last name.
I felt sick.
How could I have messed this up? I did literally nothing all day and actually bought a dress to fit in. I knew that missing the bachelorette weekend upset Caryn, so it was incredibly important to me that I not make waves for her shower. Hot tears pricked at my eyes as I picked up the present and left the room. In the hall, I set it down again and pulled my phone back out, searching my emails for the one from Caroline that said the time.
I found it—3:00 p.m. I reread it, noticing suddenly that it had gone only to me, not to all of the other bridesmaids. And I realized, with a sense of foreboding, that that omission wasn’t because the other bridesmaids already knew the time.
She didn’t want them to see that she had just deliberately told me the wrong time.
My hands started shaking as I considered the implications of what she had done. Caryn was never going to forgive me. Which, okay, if she knew what I had been saying about her on the internet, I could understand, but she didn’t. Caroline did this to me entirely because she didn’t like me and knew she could get away with it. There was no way she would own it, even if I told Caryn everything.
“You’re late,” a coolly amused voice said. I looked up to see Caroline smirking. “Caryn was upset.”
My fists balled involuntarily. “How could you do that? Like, I expect you to do that kind of thing to me, but how could you do that to her?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She brushed past me to go into the party room, but I grabbed her arm. “Take your hand off me!”
I dropped her arm. “I have the email! You told me it was at three!”
“Interesting. I have an email too, telling you it was at twelve.” She looked me up and down. “How old is that dress anyway?”
“I’m showing her the email. I’m not letting you get away with this.”
She shrugged. “I already showed her the one telling you the time. With all of your email addresses on it.”
“What does that even mean? You faked an email to make me look bad? Don’t you have anything else going on in your life?”
She colored slightly. “Oh, you are not even a thought in my mind. I just didn’t want you showing up in your yard-sale dress and ruining Caryn’s day. She doesn’t need you. She has me. And we’re going to be family now. You’re nothing.”
I just looked at her, too angry to speak. Finally, voice shaking, I said, “This isn’t over.”
“Oh, but it is. Besides”—a cruel smile crept across her lips—“I don’t think Caryn still wants you in the wedding after this. You can go back to your tacky little life now.” She walked back into the party room and started ordering the busboys around. I debated hurling the heavy crystal vase at her head, but she was the type who would sue for assault.
Shoulders slumping in defeat, I left. The wait for the valet felt interminable; I just wanted to get out of there. Eventually, he pulled my six-year-old Hyundai Elantra around the loop in front and had the grace not to mention that it was probably the least expensive car he had ever driven there.
I threw the present in the trunk and climbed in, feeling lower than I had since the morning after Megan’s engagement party.
A car pulled in behind mine, so I put it into drive, barely recognizing where I was going.
When I came to a stop, I was in front of Megan’s old apartment building. But Megan didn’t live there anymore—she had moved to Columbia, forty-five minutes away. Muscle memory had just taken me there, craving the comfort of my best friend. I put my head down on the steering wheel and started to cry.
When my tears had slowed and my breathing calmed, I called Megan. I knew I needed to apologize to Caryn, but I didn’t know how to start. Megan would know what to do.
She answered on the third ring. “What’s up? Aren’t you at the shower?” The background was noisy, people talking and laughing, glasses and silverware clinking.
I started to tell her what happened, but she stopped me. “Hang on, it’s loud here. Let me find a quieter spot.” She moved away from the noise. “Sorry, we’re out with some new friends in Baltimore for drinks by the water since it’s so nice out today.”