The Smart One

Chapter 20





The wedding was ridiculous. All of it. Max had insisted that it take place in the backyard, and at first Weezy tried to get him to change his mind. But now she was glad that they were at home, and not out in public for the world to see. The bride was walking down the “aisle” eight months pregnant, in a flowy white dress that showed off the bump underneath it, like she was a movie star, some starlet that was flaunting the fact that she was getting married in this condition. Look at me, the dress seemed to say. I’m pregnant and I don’t care who knows it.

Weezy tried to be open-minded. After all, her children were living in a different world than the one she’d grown up in. But honestly. A white dress? Really? Why even bother?

She’d suggested to Max early on that he and Cleo should think about getting married. She waited for him to disagree, or to tell her that it was none of her business, but he surprised her.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “I think it’s something we both want.”

Even though Weezy had just suggested the same thing, she immediately wanted to tell him that marriage was a mistake. He barely knew this girl. They were children. How did they think they could make a marriage work? But she kept her mouth shut.

She imagined the children would want a quick justice of the peace ceremony, that maybe they’d all go out for a nice lunch afterward. And then after the baby was here, they could have a small church ceremony, really do it right. But Max told her they had other plans.

“We want our friends to be there,” he said. “And our families. If we’re going to do it, we want to do it in front of everyone.”

It sounded just like something Cleo would say, and Weezy knew that her son was repeating Cleo’s words, and she resented that. It was enough to make her scream.

“You know, if you have it in the backyard, it won’t be recognized in the church,” she finally said.

“It’ll be recognized everywhere else, though,” Max said. “Plus, Cleo’s not even Catholic.”

And that was how Weezy found herself in early June, staging this spectacle, this crazy event for everyone to see. “One day, we’ll look back on this and laugh,” Will said to her that morning. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she didn’t believe that for a second.

THE DAY OF THE WEDDING WAS WARM, but not too warm, and Weezy felt that she deserved at least that much. “Aren’t you grateful for the weather?” Maureen asked her, and Weezy just shook her head a little bit. If your son got his college girlfriend pregnant, if her mother was still so angry she could barely speak to her, if they were going to live in your basement while they had the baby, then you deserved a beautiful day for the wedding. That was all there was to it.

Bets was over at Maureen’s house, along with Cathy, Ruth, and Drew. And somehow Maureen knew enough not to breathe even a word of complaint. When Weezy finally picked up the phone to call Bets and tell her the news, Bets was surprisingly calm.

“Oh, Weezy,” she’d said. “Don’t worry about it so much. Once kids are out of your house, you can’t control what they do. Not one bit. Believe me, I’ve learned that.”

And even though it sounded like Bets was placing some sort of judgment on her and Maureen (what on earth could they have done that would have disappointed her, really?), she didn’t care. She kept waiting for Bets to start being, well, Bets. But it didn’t happen. She’d been quiet during her visit, sitting and smiling at the family, and not even muttering anything about “bastards” under her breath. It was a wedding miracle.

The girls had been fighting—were at each other’s throats, actually—and it was driving her crazy. They were acting like they were back in high school, stomping up the stairs and knocking loudly on the bathroom door, screaming, “I need to get in there!”

“Girls, enough,” she’d yelled that morning. They were in the kitchen, bickering about cereal, and she couldn’t take it anymore. And the two of them, still in their pajamas with their hair messy, had turned to look at her like she was the crazy one. Cleo and Max had both just come up from the basement, and were standing at the kitchen door, staring at her as well. She felt like telling all of them to just shut up, to do exactly what she said. She had half a mind to just leave the house and let them all deal with the wedding on their own. But she knew she’d never do that. It wasn’t her way.

“We all need to work together today,” she finally said. And all of them had nodded, like quiet, obedient children.

Outside, workers were setting up white wooden folding chairs in two groups, to create an aisle in the middle. At the front, there were two large potted plants, which sort of made it look like an altar. Sort of. All of the flowers were white, which is what Cleo wanted. And even though Weezy would have gone a different way, she had to admit that it looked pretty.

When they’d started planning the wedding, Weezy considered finding a new florist. After all, how could she explain this wedding to Samuel? But in the end, she knew he would be the best, and she called him to set up an appointment.

“This is a delicate situation,” she’d said. “I’m actually not calling about Claire’s wedding. It’s—well, it’s my son’s.”

She’d gone on to tell Samuel the whole story—more than she’d told most of her friends, in fact. He’d listened kindly, told her gently that he’d done more of these sorts of weddings than she could even imagine. He told her that she was a lovely woman, a kind mother to be there for her son and his wife-to-be, promised her that once the baby was born, she wouldn’t remember any of the mixed feelings she had about this.

When she’d gotten off the phone with him, she felt better than she had since the news had broken. (That was how she thought about it, like it was a news story that broke on television, of an awful event like a murder or the death of someone famous and beloved.) She met with Samuel alone, telling Cleo that the flowers needed to be picked immediately, promising that she would stick to her wishes for the white flowers. And she had. And now they were the loveliest part of the day—the hydrangea blooms that were tied to the chairs, the lovely textured bouquets, the potted plants.

Samuel had come to set up the backyard himself, which she knew he almost never did. He’d given her a hug and wished her luck, told Cleo that she looked beautiful (even though she was still in her robe). He arranged the pots up front, straightened the bows and blooms on the chairs, made sure that every detail was perfect.

She saw him talking to Claire outside, and for a moment Weezy hoped to God he wasn’t talking about her wedding, but before she could head out there, the caterer had another question and she was drawn back into the kitchen.

Even though this wedding was almost nothing compared to what they had been planning for Claire, Weezy still found herself totally swept away with it. Maybe it was because they had so little time, or maybe that’s how it always was with a wedding. They’d all been running around like chickens with no heads for weeks now, and the day of the wedding felt like a nightmare—the kind where you’re trying to pack to go on a trip, and all your clothes keep falling out of the suitcase, no matter what you do.

They’d all gotten up early, but there still didn’t seem to be enough time. Weezy had this fear that guests were going to start showing up and they were all going to be half-naked, running around the backyard barefoot. If anything was going to get done, Weezy was going to have to make it happen.

“Why don’t you two go get dressed?” she said to Claire and Martha. They were both bridesmaids, although they had both just picked their own dresses (white, of course) and didn’t really match. But when they came downstairs, they did both look very pretty. Even if Cleo did seem to be rubbing this white-themed wedding in everyone’s face (I’m pregnant, but I want everything to be virginal!), it actually all came together beautifully.

She kept sending Will on errands, or out to check on the setup of the bars outside. He was driving her sort of crazy, just standing there all ready for the day, like he couldn’t think of anything to do unless she told him. Weezy couldn’t help but snap at him, more than once, for just standing there, or for not being in the same room when she needed something from him. Honestly, sometimes men were no help.

The caterers had taken over the kitchen, and set up strange little ovens on the countertops to cook the food. You could barely move in there without running into someone or something.

Cleo had been very opinionated during the meeting with the caterer. She wanted wine and appetizers served as soon as the guests arrived, before the ceremony, so that when the two of them said their vows, people would be eating and drinking, just snacking away, like they were watching a TV show. Weezy tried to talk her out of it. “It’s just not how things are done,” she said. But Cleo’s mind was made up.

“I want it to feel like a party, like a celebration,” she said.

Weezy tried to give the caterer a look, to raise her eyebrows as if to say, I know this is a ridiculous request, do you believe this? But the caterer had just nodded.

“I love that idea,” she said. “Very fun and relaxed.”

They’d gone on to decide on “stations” of meat and sushi instead of a sit-down meal.

“I don’t want any seating arrangements,” Cleo had said. “I just want it so that people can eat whenever they feel like it, wherever they want.”

“I think that will confuse people,” Weezy said.

“That’s very in right now,” the caterer said. “People will catch on.” Weezy could only imagine what Sally Lemons would say about something like this. She was not one to throw seating arrangements away like they were nothing.

The kicker of the wedding planning was when Max announced that they wanted a friend of theirs to marry them. “Absolutely not,” Weezy had said. “It’s not even legal.”

“Mom, it’s legal,” Max said. “Everyone does it now.”

“Why don’t you have Deacon Callaghan? Or even a judge?” But it was like Weezy wasn’t even talking, and somehow it was decided that Max’s friend Ben (a boy who was once almost kicked out of school for ripping the doors off all of the bathroom stalls in their dorm freshman year) would be the one to marry them. They might as well have had a Muppet do the honors.

THE CEREMONY WAS BRIEF. Cleo and Max had put it all together on their own. After Ben was chosen as the officiant (Weezy still couldn’t say that without a sneer), she decided to just let them do what they were going to do.

Claire and Martha walked down the aisle, and then Cleo followed them, alone. Her mother was sitting in the front row, and she looked just like Weezy felt: Let this day be over with, please God, soon.

One of their friends read a love poem by George Eliot, which Weezy had to admit was nice. Then Max and Cleo filled a glass jar by pouring two different-colored sands into it, Max with blue and Cleo with yellow, which seemed a bit silly. Another friend played the guitar and sang, a lovely but very sad song called “Hallelujah.” Weezy had been excited when she’d heard the name of it, but then quickly realized it wasn’t the least bit religious, and wasn’t even joyful. There were parts about tying people to kitchen chairs, cutting hair, and bathing on the roof. She hoped that no one was really listening to the words.

Before they exchanged vows, Ben talked about the couple, and said how after Max had met Cleo, he’d told everyone that he’d met “the hottest girl he’d ever seen.” People laughed at this, but Weezy was just plain embarrassed. Then the two of them were facing each other, promising to be friends forever, to love each other, and then Ben was pronouncing them husband and wife, which seemed impossible, Weezy thought, because it was just some words spoken in the backyard. It didn’t seem real at all.

The whole crowd cheered as they walked down the aisle, and then someone handed each of them a glass of champagne and everyone was clinking glasses and hugging. Weezy went up to both of them and kissed and hugged them. She figured if she pretended like this was a real wedding, eventually it would start to feel like it.

One of Max’s friends was a DJ, and he and Cleo had insisted that he should do the music for the wedding. So Weezy hired a twenty-one-year-old kid to be in charge, and just as she predicted, it was a mistake. As soon as the vows were done, he decided it was time for the music. He started off playing a loud song, and the only words that Weezy could make out throughout the whole thing were “bad romance.” So, not only did all of the adults look shocked at the noise, but it didn’t seem to be a very wedding-appropriate choice.

As the night went on, the older people made their exit quickly. Weezy couldn’t blame them. The music got louder with each song, and more vulgar. Her friends came up to say good-bye to her, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek, as though this was a normal wedding. Almost everyone had brought a card with money in it for Max and Cleo, and they’d deposited them into a birdcage that was set up for the purpose. (The birdcage was Samuel’s idea, and it was a genius one. It gave the cards a safe place to go, but it wasn’t so obvious that it looked like they were begging for money.) It seemed a little sad that all the new couple were getting was cash, but then again, what else would people give a young couple who were expecting their first child in the very near future? A place setting of china? A Cuisinart? No, cash was the only practical thing. Weezy would have done the same if she’d been a guest at the wedding.

Max and Cleo seemed to be having a good time, which was nice, although Weezy was a little shocked to see Cleo out there dancing, shaking her round stomach around the dance floor, rubbing it against Max and laughing.

She and Will danced just once, when the DJ found it in his heart to play a Frank Sinatra song, something for the old people, and Will found her right away and led her out to the dance floor. That was a nice part of the day, swaying and twirling with Will. Of course, right after that, the next song played repeated the words sexy bitch over and over, and everyone who had been dancing to Sinatra scattered like cockroaches.

Finally the day was over. It was funny, on all the sites that Weezy had looked at, the bride and the bride’s family always commented that the reception went so fast, in the blink of an eye. But this one seemed to go on forever. At one point, Weezy thought they were going to have to kick the straggling college friends out of the backyard and tell them to go home. Thankfully, by the time it was getting to that point, they all seemed to get the hint and were on their way.

Maureen had hired a limo to take Max and Cleo to the Ritz-Carlton for two nights. “My present to you,” she’d told them the week before. “I know you won’t be going on a honeymoon, so think of this as a mini trip.” She’d made them appointments in the hotel spa, and dinner reservations for the next night. “Enjoy yourselves,” she said.

And so Max and Cleo had driven off in a limo, while the rest of the family finished saying good-bye to the last guests that were hanging on, and watched the caterers fold up the chairs and remove the leftover food. Weezy felt tired through her whole body, right down to the bones in her fingers, which ached just a little bit.

They’d all gathered on the back patio to have a glass of wine, although that was the last thing Maureen needed. She’d downed her glass quickly, then announced that she thought it would be a good idea if she went home, and Drew, who had been waiting quietly the whole day, piled Maureen, Bets, Ruth, and Cathy into the car and drove them off.

“And then there were four,” Weezy said. She felt sad, the way you do after holidays or vacations, just a little let down that the whole thing is over. Isn’t that what she’d wanted the whole day, for the thing to be over? But now, she felt let down. Her own head felt a little swimmy from the wine, but she somehow didn’t want to go to bed just yet.

“I think it all went well,” Will said.

“It did,” Martha said. “Except when the caterers tried to set out the buffet before the ceremony even started. I went right in there and told them they’d have to cool it. I mean, can you imagine?”

Martha had repeated this story a few times already, and Weezy saw Claire close her eyes briefly.

“Well, thank goodness you were there,” Weezy said. “It could have been a disaster.”

“I mean, really,” Martha went on. “How hard is it to follow simple directions? What if the food had been out there for all that time, getting cold and congealing as they said their vows?” She sat back and shook her head.

“Well, it wasn’t,” Claire said. “So there’s no need to keep talking about it.”

“I’m just saying it could have been a disaster,” Martha said.

“We know. You’ve said it only about a million times already. We understand—the caterers were incompetent and you saved the day. We heard you.”

“Girls, stop. Please stop.” Weezy felt the beginning of a headache.

“Give your mother a break, would you?” Will said.

“I’m not doing anything,” Martha said. “I don’t know what Claire’s problem is. All I tried to do today is help.”

“You were a big help today,” Weezy told her.

“Oh my God,” Claire said. “Can we please stop praising Martha for acting like a normal person for once?”

“Claire, stop it.” Weezy could tell that Martha was on the verge of tears.

“I’m serious. This is why she’s like this, you know. This is why she thinks everything’s about her. Because you make it about her. All she did was say thank you to people as they left today. And you’re acting like she performed a miracle.”

Martha got up and walked inside, and Claire rolled her eyes.

“You should apologize to your sister,” Weezy said. Her whole body felt so tired. Had she ever been this tired in her whole life?

“I’m not apologizing to her. She needs to hear it. This isn’t good for her, the way you treat her.”

“You should try to be a little more understanding,” Weezy said.

“Understanding is all I am. You make her worse, do you realize that? She thinks the world revolves around her because you make it seem like it does. You make it seem like every little thought she has is so important. It makes her crazy. She thinks the whole world is supposed to treat her like that. And God forbid we should hurt her feelings. How is she ever supposed to live like an adult if you never treat her like one?”

“When you’re a parent, you’ll understand this more.”

“When I’m a parent,” Claire said, “I won’t focus only on one kid.”

“You know what?” Weezy was mad now. “Sometimes the world isn’t perfect, Claire. Sometimes you just need to be grateful for what you have. Sometimes you need to be a grown-up.” She hadn’t yelled at Claire like this since high school.

“A grown-up?” Claire looked up to the sky and laughed. “Right, a grown-up. Well, since you’re such a great example, maybe you can explain to me why the florist somehow still thinks I’m getting married. Why he told me that the two of you have been planning things, and that my flowers would be beautiful.”

Will turned to Weezy, but didn’t say anything. Weezy felt her face get hot. She hadn’t felt like this since she was in high school, when Bets had found out that she’d snuck over to Steven Sullivan’s house. She swallowed a few times and finally answered.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. He does tons of weddings a year. He probably just mixed you up with someone else.”

“Really?” Claire asked. “He seemed pretty sure it was me. He knew Doug’s name, he told me how even though we’d changed the date and postponed the wedding, he was still so excited to work with us. How he’d loved going over the flowers with you, how you had great instincts.”

“Claire, that’s enough,” Will said. “Your mother has had a long day—we all have—and we need to just step back.”

“I can’t wait to get out of this house. I can’t wait to get away from this crazy family. I hate it here.” Claire stormed out, and Weezy had a strange feeling of déjà vu, of the girls’ being teenagers, when their storming out of the room in tears was just another Tuesday. It used to hurt less when Claire said she hated them. Now it stung, like someone had whipped her.

Weezy felt tears come to her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. Oh, she was so tired. Her children all thought she had failed them, probably even Max. Had she? Because even though Claire was being horrendous, she was right—they did treat Martha differently. They’d had to. All those years, ignoring her outbursts, doing anything to make sure that she was happy, or at least stable. Was it true that they’d made things worse for her? Had she ruined her even more? Weezy’s head throbbed and she closed her eyes.

“Don’t let this upset you,” Will said. “It’s been a long day for all of us. Hell, it’s been a long year.”

“Yes, it has,” she said. She waited for Will to ask her about the florist, but he never did.

“We should get some sleep,” he said. “Come on.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Weezy told him. He nodded and walked over to kiss her good night.

Weezy sat there for several hours. She was so tired, she thought she might just fall asleep right there on the porch, like a crazy old woman. But she stayed awake. She wondered why Will didn’t ask her about the florist. She let herself admit that she was secretly thrilled that Samuel had said that she was a pleasure to work with, that she had great instincts. She thought about her children—Martha, Claire, and Max—and how none of them was where she wanted them to be. None of them was where they wanted to be. She wondered if it was all her fault, wondered whether if she’d done things differently, they’d all have turned out okay.

She thought about Bets, and how she’d just left Pennsylvania after her husband died, just left her two daughters without a home base and gone back to Michigan to live her own life. She’d just assumed that they’d be okay, that they’d be able to manage. And they had. Was that what she should have done with her own children? She couldn’t imagine it. Couldn’t imagine how Bets had just separated her life from theirs.

When the sky started to get light out, and the birds started to sing, Weezy got up from the porch and went in the house to go to bed. It was no use torturing herself anymore, she thought. She couldn’t fix anything by wondering what if.

She finally got into bed, and Will, who was snoring, turned over in his sleep and put his arm on her stomach as if to say, There you are. For a second, she felt a little bit calmer, a little bit less lonely. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders and closed her eyes. She thought she might just sleep all day.