Chapter Twenty-Two

April 2019

Mandy stood in front of the full-length mirror in her hotel room. After the fire alarm, and the evacuation, and everyone standing out front while the fire trucks arrived, they'd been told that someone had brought a toaster with them and just burned their morning bagel, which set off the alarm, and it wasn't anything more serious. (People were so weird sometimes.) But the timing of it all wasn't accounted for when Mandy had made her schedule, and with everything else, she was very far behind. If it weren't for a nice older woman who insisted Mandy get to be at the front of the line for the elevators, she'd probably still be waiting downstairs.

Ashley, forever the professional, sat Mandy right down to finish the job. Mandy had never seen anyone work so fast. She wasn't on time, but Mandy was back on track. When Ashley had finished, Mandy's hair was beyond amazing. The only direction she had given Ashley was that Mandy wanted it to be elegant, and it was. And despite the amount of hair spray, it still looked soft, but Mandy was sure even gale-force winds wouldn't blow her updo down.

Her makeup was just right too. Simple yet pretty, and both eyes were symmetrical, with little wings on the ends of her eyeliner. She couldn't have looked better.

That was if she weren't standing in her underwear.

Her beloved dress still hung near the window, and no matter how hard Mandy tried, she couldn't force herself over there to put it on.

She looked perfect.

Her dress was perfect.

And Mandy and perfect didn't go together. Ever.

Something was wrong. Something other than fish or uninvited guests or burnt bagels.

If Mandy put that dress on, would everything blow up? Would the relationship she'd worked so hard—fought so hard—for just magically implode? It seemed more than reasonable considering her track record.

Her light blue panties with Bride embroidered across her bottom in white thread seemed to mock her. How many brides got this far and never made it down the aisle? Maybe she should get in her car and drive away. But to where? And how would she ever be able to explain it?

Everything just seemed too right, so I had to destroy it all .

That was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. But there she stood. Hair done. Lips layered with just the right amount of color, standing in front of a mirror in her underwear about to cry her eyes out.

Nothing seemed to make sense.

Mandy's phone buzzed. Likely Mom reminding her again about pictures or talking about shoes. Mandy had forgone the "getting ready" photos because she thought they were silly. No one liked the "before" pictures, only the "after" ones anyway, so why bother? But if someone had been there now, maybe she'd be able to put her damn dress on. Why didn't she want bridesmaids again?

Oh, that's right, because having multiple nervous people in one room was what Mandy had been trying to avoid. Which was why she had it all set up so that she could get herself into her dress without any help. She wanted to know that even on this day she was still a person who was capable of doing whatever she wanted. She needed to know that no matter what, she herself could survive. That it was a choice. She didn't need anyone. Getting married was a choice. Her choice. And it would never change who she was.

Or would it?

After Laura got married, Mandy hardly ever talked to her. Not that she talked to her that much since seeing her at Grace's after Laura had gotten engaged. But Mandy did try to stay in touch; she made that Facebook profile and would see an occasional update, but it wasn't the same. Laura's world became Steven's world, and while it wasn't like Mandy and Laura hung out or talked all the time, there was still something there—until there wasn't.

Was Laura as happy as her online persona made her out to be? Or did she carefully curate what people saw about who she was now that she was Mrs. Olsen? Mandy should've answered that call from her earlier so she could have asked these questions.

Maybe as much as Mandy wanted to be, she just wasn't the marrying type. While she loved, and loved hard, it wasn't enough to get her happily ever after. She'd kissed so many frogs that turned out to be just frogs that there was no way she was the princess in her own story.

Mom's friend Georgia never got married, and she was fine. Better than fine, if you asked her.

Mandy sank to the floor, a memory of Georgia rushing to the front of her mind.

It was one of those summer evenings when the air was crisp but the heat from the afternoon still radiated from the concrete, creating the ideal temperature. Mom and Georgia sat at the patio table, a bottle of white wine—probably Mom's favorite pinot grigio—and two glasses between them. Mandy hadn't wanted to come outside, but Mom insisted she make an appearance and show Miss Georgia "just how big she'd gotten." Mandy was a fourth grader, not a puppy, although when she heard who was there, she wasn't as reluctant to stop the art project she had been working on.

"My Mandy Candy! How are you, sweetheart?" Georgia got up from the table as soon as Mandy stepped outside, and wrapped her in a hug. The fabric from one of Miss Georgia's signature colorful shawls was cool against Mandy's bare arms. It had been a while since Mandy had seen her last. Miss Georgia's red hair was pulled up and away from her face, showing off her rosy cheeks, and she wore a deep shade of red lipstick that looked like a juicy pomegranate. Out of all of Mom's friends, Mandy liked Miss Georgia best.

"I'm fine," Mandy answered. Miss Georgia was the only person allowed to call Mandy that name, because she always brought candy with her when she visited.

"I got you a little something." Miss Georgia reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a cellophane bag filled with sweet treats.

"You didn't have to do that," Mom said.

"Hush now," she said to Mom. "Sweets for my sweet girl." She handed the bag to Mandy.

"Thank you!" Mandy plopped down at the table, glancing from the bag to Mom.

"Go ahead." Mom waved at her before taking a sip of her wine.

Mandy pulled at the silk purple ribbon holding the bag closed and reached in, grabbing a soft orange confection. As soon as she popped it in her mouth, it was like she was drinking fresh OJ with vanilla ice cream.

"Those are some of my favorites. You'll really like the pink ones too. Strawberry." Miss Georgia winked.

Mandy didn't know what Miss Georgia did for work, but she traveled a lot. Sometimes with the candy she would bring other trinkets from afar—and lots of stories. It all sounded exciting, and yet…"Are you ever going to get married?"

Mom covered her mouth like she was trying not to spit out her wine, and Miss Georgia threw her head back and laughed.

"Did you put her up to this?" she asked, pointing between Mandy and Mom.

"No, I swear," Mom said.

Mandy shifted in her seat. "I shouldn't have asked that, huh?"

Miss Georgia rested her hand on Mandy's. "It's fine. Maybe one day I will, but for now, I'm living just for me." She squeezed Mandy's hand. "The only person you need to make you happy is you. And I'm perfectly content with that." Miss Georgia raised her glass, and Mom clicked hers against it.

"Being alone doesn't mean being lonely," Miss Georgia said.

"Don't look at me. I didn't say anything." Mom raised her hands in mock surrender.

At the time, Mandy wasn't sure what that had been all about, but now, standing on the precipice of what was going to be either the best or worst day of her life, she realized maybe Georgia was right. Mandy had much more control over her destiny than she gave herself credit for. She could pack up her bags and run…run as far and fast as she possibly could. But then what? She would always wonder if she'd made the right choice. But if she put her dress on and took the pictures and went to the venue and it all blew up anyway, she would at least know it wasn't because of her. She tried. She put herself out there, and that's really all she could do.

But how many times had she done that just to be crushed? Just to be told she wasn't enough, or good enough, or the right one. As much as Mandy wanted to be, she felt as strong as an overcooked noodle. She didn't know the first thing about being married, and what if she was bad at it? Like exceptionally bad?

Mandy tipped her head back, and she gazed at the ceiling. Crying would ruin her makeup. She'd spent way too much time perfecting it just to let that happen now. But oh, how she wished she could curl into a ball and sob even for a few minutes. Just to let it out. Holding it all in had its own dangerous consequences—like spontaneously bursting into tears later. But then she could likely play it off, or it would be justified.

Another buzz from Mandy's phone gave her a moment to stop thinking and reach for the offending piece of electronics. Yes. She was late. She didn't need the reminder, Mom.

It wasn't a text from Mom though; it was from Isa. And not even a text, simply a video of a cat hanging from the side of a kitty-scratching-post-tree thing, struggling to get back on, and finally making it. Mandy laughed. Isa had done it again. She had come through with exactly what Mandy needed when she needed it. Like a sixth sense.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Mandy jumped to her feet, grabbed her dress, and slipped it on. A special zipper placed strategically in the side under the arm was all she needed to do, but when she tugged, nothing happened. The zipper wouldn't move. No. This wasn't good. She climbed out of the garment and tried again, the zipper easily moving up and down. Okay, it worked. It likely was just caught on something or who knows, but it worked. Mandy carefully slipped back into the dress and tugged on the zipper. And then she tugged a little harder—but nothing. She twisted her body, trying to get a look, and when still nothing happened, she moved over to the floor-length mirror. It didn't seem to matter though. There was no reason why the stupid zipper wouldn't budge.

This was a sign, wasn't it?

Her phone buzzed again, and Mandy stopped. Stopped twisting. Stopped tugging. Stopped thinking.

Every time she'd tried the dress on, there was someone there to help her. As much as she wanted to be the strong, independent woman, today she needed help. It was okay to ask for help, because she still chose to ask for it. Mandy took a deep breath and made eye contact with herself in the mirror. "You can do this. It's going to be okay." No matter what happened today, she was going to be that cat and give it her best try.