Dear Cary - Dyan Cannon [76]
“Cary just wanted to make sure everything went all right with the marriage license,” he said.
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “How’s Cary?”
“Getting ready,” Stanley said. Of course, tradition held that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the wedding. To heck with tradition, I thought. I’m a nervous wreck and I need to see him. I knocked on his door. He opened it and I went into the bedroom where he was changing. Before I could say a word, he took a step back and stood completely rigid with his arms at his sides. He gave me a long, cold look and said, “What the hell did you do to your nails?”
I looked at my light-peach-colored nails and could barely speak. We were going to be married in ten minutes!
“They’re gaudy, Dyan. It’s just not flattering.”
Just open the door and run for your life, Dyan. That’s all I could hear.
Now I started crying for real. I turned and almost bumped into Stanley as I left Cary’s bedroom. I crossed through the living room past my parents, Addie, and Cliff, and bolted into the other bedroom. Mom and Addie marched in right behind me, leaving Dad standing there, half beside himself, and Cliff looking just plain confused.
“Dyan, it’s just nerves,” Addie said. “Everything is nerves. His nerves, your nerves. It’s going to be all right.”
Mom took a towel to my tear-streaked face. “Just relax. This is what you’ve always wanted—to marry him.”
I felt like a boxer being toweled off and pushed back into the ring. “I’m scared,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Then there’s just one thing to do,” Mom said. “Get in the car and go home.” She sat down on the floor in front of me. “Seriously, if this feels wrong to you, forget about the wedding, the wedding dress, the wedding reception . . . forget about all of that because it doesn’t matter. No one’s going to die if there’s no wedding today.”
I exhaled. I immediately felt like I could breathe again. We sat there for several minutes, not saying anything. Finally I said, “I’m afraid to do it and I’m afraid not to.”
Just then there was a soft knock at the door. Addie opened it and there stood Cary, smiling softly. “May I have a word with Dyan, please?” Addie and Mom left the room.
“Dyan, give me your hand.” I did it without thinking. “I’m terribly sorry for my outrageous behavior.” He stroked my fingers. “I don’t know what got into me. The color’s really very nice.”
“Cary, you don’t have to do this, you know. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“I haven’t changed my mind, Dyan. I’ll tell you something about weddings, though. The more experience you have with them, the more nervous you get.”
I almost laughed. “Are we going to do this?”
“I say, yes!”
“Then I’d better get dressed.”
He patted my hand and said, “Good stuff.”
With Addie and Mom’s help, I pulled myself together in about a half hour. Just before I left the room, Daddy squeezed my hand. The love that shone in his eyes melted my heart. The next thing I knew, I was standing beside Cary in front of the justice of the peace, in a small party room decorated with magnificent flowers. Cary was beaming. It was as if nothing had happened. The next thing I knew, he was placing a gold wedding band onto my finger. It glided into place quite easily, a perfect fit.
We were man and wife.
And suddenly, I found myself wondering what that meant. I would love, honor, cherish, and obey. I would not let beauticians change my hair color . . . I was a different person now, a married woman. Things were different now, completely different. They were, weren’t