Up & Out - Ariella Papa [107]
“Look, Rebecca, I just want to apologize for my behavior this morning and for not being responsible enough to get home on time to get ready. Of course I couldn’t have anticipated a subway delay, but I should have had the sense to leave earlier than I did.”
“Okay,” I say.
“To tell the truth, I was stressed out about Jordan and I am really feeling anxious about seeing Beth and Kathy.”
“So am I,” I say. I’m relieved that I’m not alone in that.
“I was hoping I would have last night to catch up with them because I don’t see how we can do it all tonight.” I understand that. I think I’m scared of my friends. I’m scared that it’s all going to come out and we won’t care about one another anymore. I’m scared that they are as annoyed with me as I have been getting with them. I’m slightly bitter that I feel obligated to put on a happy face for Kathy who dissed me last night. I’d rather go see Ben than pretend. I start to say this to Lauryn, but we are interrupted by two women who have been sitting with two other women at a table nearby.
“Are you two friends of Kathy’s?” one of the women asks. She is here with Kathy’s friends from work. She introduces herself but I forget her name as soon as she says it because I am feeling guilty that she might have heard what we were talking about.
We join them at one of the long glass tables full of candles and big-girl drinks. I order a metropolitan from the waiter; it’s practically the cost of a plate of rock shrimp tempura. But I will celebrate the fact that my severance ends today. Yippee.
“How long have you known Kathy?” one of the women (Jessica?) asks us.
“For about five years,” I say.
“Since I got to New York,” Lauryn says.
“She’s a hoot,” one of the other older women says. I think her name is Brooke.
“Oh, my goodness, my kids love her. They always try to get her to come over,” a woman whose name I’m certain is Hope says.
“She’s going to be great with her own kids,” the one whose name completely escapes me says.
I wonder what Kathy is like to all of her work friends. I’m not sure if she could be the same way she is to us. I’m jealous that they get to see her all the time. They aren’t in her wedding party, but they probably have a better idea of all her day-to-day issues. They are more there for her than we are. I look over at Lauryn. She lights a cigarette and holds it out to me. I have a puff.
“Should we call her?” I ask. It’s a quarter of nine. I don’t know how long Blue Fin will hold our reservation if we’re late.
“I’m sure she’ll be here,” says the one I’m pretty sure is Jill. “You know how it is when your family comes in for something. Everyone always runs late. I know she’ll be here.”
These women are a lot more like Kathy as far as career and ambitions than I could ever be. Lauryn elbows me, gesturing over to the door where Kathy has come in with an entourage of people who look like Kathy but are a lot chubbier, less blond and without glasses. Kathy is wearing a small wedding veil.
She comes over to our table, kissing the work friends before us. Their stools are closer to her. I have to stop being sensitive about this. Lauryn stubs out her cigarette. Her mouth is tense. Is it seeing all these people or being around wedding events that is stressing her out so much?
“Thank you, guys,” Kathy says, taking us both into a big hug. She whispers. “Can you believe my sister is making me wear this awful veil?”
“Why don’t you let me get you a drink,” I ask, but Hope is already getting her one. One of her cousins has ordered a round of lemon-drop shots. I think of Ben’s face when we clinked shot glasses last night.
I look at my watch. It’s five after nine. I don’t know why I made the reservations