“I enjoyed it, but it wasn't the same.”
"Yeah. I want to be able to kiss you. That was always my favorite part."
"I think that was my favorite part, too."
Chapter Nine
On the Fridayafter the engagement party, Amy and I each took the day off from work. It would've been an understatement to say I was excited to see her. After the party and my subsequent conversations with Eamon, I really was determined to prove that I had turned my attitude around. I couldn't pretend to be enthusiastic about the wedding. I had to throw myself into it. I had to be psyched. As maid of honor, it was my duty to do nothing less. My role in this wedding would set the tone for my relationship with my sister for the rest of our lives. I needed her to look back at my efforts fondly, not as though she was dragging me across the finish line.
We met at the diner for breakfast, and Patty was our waitress.
“What'll it be for the bride-to-be and her big sister?” Patty winked at me as she impatiently tapped her pen against the order pad.
“I’ll do the diner breakfast.” I'd made a point of getting a full night's sleep. Today was a big day. “Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Sourdough toast.” Apparently it was also a day for eating like a lumberjack.
“Egg white omelette,” Amy said. I suspected she'd been eating like a bird. She looked skinny. Or smaller. Or maybe just different.
“Two coffees?” Patty asked, but she didn't really need to.
“Please,” we answered in unison.
Patty headed back to the kitchen. Amy and I looked at each other for a minute, not saying anything when one of the other waitresses delivered our coffee and cream. I wanted her to take the lead. I wanted her to pull out a three-ring binder full of pages torn from bridal magazines. I wanted her to give me a to-do list a mile long. But she wasn't doing any of that. She was just sitting there. Being quiet.
“What's on the agenda today?” I stirred cream into my coffee, and decided to force the issue, pulling the supplies I’d brought out of my bag. “This is the calendar I made to keep me organized.” I turned it around and pushed it to her side of the table, opening the front page. “I’m pretty proud of it. I went to Kinokuniya and dug around in the stationery section for an hour.” That was one of my favorite stores in the entire city, a beautiful three-level Japanese bookstore across the street from Bryant Park. “I got the blank pages and this pretty silver binder. I even made the cover.” I closed it up and there was my masterpiece—Luke and Amy, December 16, in my admittedly less than stellar handwriting, with a multitude of hearts fanning out around it. Middle school me would've been duly impressed.
“I have a calendar,” she snipped. “Why would you think I don't have a calendar?”
“It's not that I thought you didn't have one. This is mine. To keep me organized for all of the stuff you need me to do. I just thought it should be pretty.”
“It's weird.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Like what, exactly?”
“So over the top. It's not like you.” She sat back and wrapped her arms around her waist.
She wasn't wrong. It wasn't like me. But I was trying, dammit. Didn't I deserve some credit for that? “I want to do a good job. You're my sister and I love you. I want your wedding to be everything you want it to be.”
Patty motored over with our food, sliding the plates onto the table. “I’ll get you ladies a refill on coffee. Anything else?”
I shook my head and forced a smile. “No. Thank you. We're good.”
Amy spread her napkin out on her lap. “Okay. Just don’t go overboard. Big, fancy weddings are so old-fashioned.”
Was that meant to be a slag against my art project? Or maybe my age? Either way, I didn't appreciate it.
“We want everything to be low-key and low stress and simple,” she continued. “Tasteful.”
The bad sister part of me wanted to point out that although I had yet to visit it in person, something told me that Luke's parents' country club was likely to be as far from low-key and simple as I was lacking in enthusiasm for attending events held at country clubs. But it was her wedding. I needed to cast aside my own agenda. And my opinions. And pretty much anything else belonging to me. I took back the calendar and tucked it inside my bag. “Sorry. I was just, you know…”What? Feeling psychotic?“Excited. But I want whatever you want. So tell me what we're tackling today.”
“Shoes and the dress. You've already seen the dress, but I want you to come for my fitting. I've picked out my shoes, and they're on hold, but I want your opinion.”
It didn't sound like she needed my help with much of anything other than standing there and validating her choices. Maybe the rest would come later. “Sounds fun. What else?”
“We have to pick out the flowers.”
