My mother is on the phone last. She’s on the verge of tears; I can hear it in her voice. She would have liked to have been here. I think she’s especially hurt that Franklin’s parents were in attendance. She doesn’t see my having been the ambassador for our family as adequate balance. And she’s right. There is no one equal to a mother.
“Meredith looks really happy,” I say into the phone, trying to defuse some of my mother’s sadness. Should I have been more insistent with Meredith?
“I wrote a check for one thousand dollars and put it in the mail,” my mother says, but I’m not sure she’s talking to me.
“Excuse me?”
“For Lily’s surgery. I’m sorry that I don’t have more to contribute.”
Now it’s me on the verge of tears. “You didn’t have to . . .” I start, but I stop. It’s an incredible gesture and instead of protesting I should just be grateful. “Thank you.” I think it comes out audibly.
After the calls I snap a few more pictures of the newlyweds in front of their enormous window. The top floor has a stunning vista of the city and the bay, and I frame them with Alcatraz far in the distance, just over my sister’s shoulder. This is my silent statement about marriage. Or maybe about my own relationship with Jeffrey.
When are you back?
Afterward, we pile into cabs that race over the city’s famed hills at enormously inappropriate speeds to Howard Street to dine at a restaurant called Town Hall—the perfect bookend with our earlier errand at city hall. Town Hall is housed in a much simpler structure, brick instead of marble, red awnings instead of a dome. The sun has dipped below the sweeping hillsides and the air has turned cold. Inside, the exposed brick and modern chandeliers are warm and welcoming. I’m offered a seat between Jeffrey and Franklin’s mother.
“I’m sorry about the way we’re dressed. I was supposed to pick up our suits from the dry cleaners before we left, but my dog, Lily, had to have emergency surgery. On her spine. We found her partially paralyzed, you see, and this will hopefully allow her to walk again, but it’s too soon to tell if she actually will.”
I have no idea how much English Franklin’s mother speaks or if she’s understanding any of this, so I grab the water glass in front of me and drink until it’s empty. Eventually my sister’s new mother-in-law nods and I take that as an invitation to continue.
“I’m really nervous. Scared, if I’m being honest. I’ll never find another dog like her. She’s so funny. The things she says sometimes, they just crack me up. She’s really good with a joke.” Franklin’s mother blanches, and it’s then that I wonder if she really understands more English than she lets on.
“Anyhow, tomorrow we can bring her home and I worry if I’m up to the task of her care.” I look down and fold the napkin in my lap a few different ways until I can’t stretch the assignment any longer.
Franklin’s mother adds a quiet “woof” and offers me a warm smile. I think she understands my plight.
It’s a funny thing to worry about at a wedding dinner. Being up to the task. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. I’ve never taken these vows before, nor do I know if I ever will. But I have felt them in other ways. I feel this duty with Lily. To stand with her in sickness, until she is able to stand on her own four paws again.
After dinner, Meredith, Franklin, Jeffrey, and I retire to the Top of the Mark, a rooftop bar across California Street from our hotel. At night, the buildings around us twinkle like the night sky; in the distance the Golden Gate Bridge is dappled with tiny, shimmering headlights. Meredith pulls me aside to a quiet corner at the end of the bar.
“Are you happy?”
“For you?” I ask. “Of course!” I look across the room at Franklin, who is telling Jeffrey an animated tale.
“No. Are you happy?”
I’m not sure how to answer her truthfully. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been watching you this weekend.” Meredith takes the cocktail menu from my hand and sets it down on the bar.
“I keep dwelling on this text message. I can’t get it out of my mind.”
“From who?”
“From no one.”
“No one sent you a text message?”
“No one sent Jeffrey a text message.”
Meredith looks at me, frustrated. “This isn’t the punchline to some Family Circus cartoon, is it?”
“I’ll tell you some other time. I have to get through this thing with Lily first.”
“Lily will be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” Meredith puts a hand on my shoulder, but I don’t say anything in response. “Don’t use Lily as an excuse to ignore your own happiness.”
“I’m not,” I protest.
“Speak up for yourself.”
“I do!”
“No, you don’t. We were raised the same, remember. I know you better than you think I do.”
“Oh, really,” I say with a smirk. “Did you know I was about to do this?” I swiftly kick her in the shin. Payback. I hope no one sees and thinks she just married an abuser.
“Ow! Actually, yes.” Meredith rubs her shin while looking up at me. “You have to communicate your needs to get them met. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Bartender!”
Meredith sneers. “Not what I meant.”