Girls in White Dresses - JENNIFER CLOSE [26]
“You know how they are,” she said, exhaling the smoke and choking just a little bit. “Plus, they never really liked Matt.”
“Yes, they did.” Abby felt wounded to hear this.
“Oh, Abby. I don’t mean that they hated him. But you know. He wasn’t their type.”
“Why? Because he showered and wore clean clothes?”
“No, because he always thought he knew everything. You could sense it about him. Not that I minded him. He had a really interesting energy.”
“Right.”
“Do you want to say hi to your niece? She’s right here.”
“Sure, put her on the phone.”
Abby heard rustling and then she heard Thea say, “Say hi to your aunt Abby. Tell her hello!”
“Your mother is a moron,” Abby said into the phone, and then she hung up.
“We should go snowshoeing,” her mother said on the third day she was home. “It will do you good to get out in the fresh air.”
“Okay,” Abby said.
“You’re so young,” her mom said as they trekked across the snow. “You’ll see that this is for the best.”
“I’m twenty-five,” Abby said. “When you were my age, you already had Thea.”
“Well, I wasn’t married.”
“So you think I should get pregnant?”
“Oh, Abby,” she said. “I hate to see you so sad.”
“Thea called,” Abby said. “She told me that you and Dad never liked Matt.”
“That’s not true. We like anyone that you bring home. Anyone you like, we like.”
“But that’s not the same thing. Did you really like him? Are you happy we’re not getting married?”
Her mom sighed. “Abby,” she said. “You have always known what you wanted. I never doubted you. But things happen for a reason, and if there was trouble, then yes, I am glad that you aren’t getting married.”
“I didn’t say there was trouble.”
“People don’t call off weddings if everything is hunky-dory.” Her mom’s nose was dripping, and she wiped it with her glove. Abby looked down at the snow and pressed her weight forward on her snowshoes. “Come on,” her mom said. “We should get back. Your father will be worried.”
Abby watched her mom pat her arm, but she couldn’t feel it through all the layers of clothes. She watched her go pat, pat, pat on her sleeve. Then her mom turned and started off ahead of her, stomping in the fresh snow. Abby waited until she was about ten steps in front of her, and then she followed.
Before Abby left New York to come home, she sent an e-mail to all of her friends that said: “The wedding is off. No one reason, just lots of little ones. I’ll explain more later. Abby.”
She was sure her friends had been calling and e-mailing, but she didn’t get any cell service at her parents’ house. For once, she was relieved. Usually it drove her crazy, and she would stand on chairs and hold the phone up in the air to try to get some sort of signal. “Come on!” she would say to the phone. “Give me something.”
This time, Abby hadn’t even taken her phone out of her bag. She knew she’d eventually have to go back to New York and face it. She would have to see her friends and drink vodka and listen to them tell her that it was for the best, that she’d be happier in the long run. She would exhaust herself, going out almost every night, deconstructing every part of her relationship with Matt until it wasn’t hers anymore. She would do it, but just not yet.
“We can still live together,” Matt said, after he told her about the wedding.
“No,” Abby said. “No, we can’t.”
Abby’s parents didn’t have cable, so she watched old movies until she thought she could fall asleep. She read the books that were left in her room: Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, A Day No Pigs Would Die, and Bridge to Terabithia. She didn’t remember them being so sad. They were all so sad.
Abby didn’t want her mind to be free for even a second. Because when it was, she heard Matt saying, “Abby, I don’t know about the wedding.”
“What don’t you know?” she asked him.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” he said. He didn’t even sound mean when he said it. Actually, he sounded nice and a little apologetic. Like he was sorry for what he was doing. Like he was sorry for ruining her life.
When she didn’t feel like reading anymore, she wrote.