She blinked several times at me. “Because of the shower and bachelorette party dates?”
“No, I—Caryn, Caroline just emailed that she wants each of us to spend three thousand dollars on a trip for your bachelorette party and another thousand on your shower and I don’t have the money for that.”
“Did you tell Caroline that?”
“Well—no.”
“Don’t you think you should start there, rather than dropping out of the wedding?”
“I—” I didn’t want to admit that I was too ashamed to tell Caroline I couldn’t afford it. My shoulders dropped in resignation. “I can try.”
“And I don’t want a fancy trip. Tell them I just want something simple, like I said in my email.”
“Okay,” I said, my face puckered in anxiety. I got up and turned to leave.
“Oh, and Lily—”
“Yeah?”
“I can give you my doctor’s name if you want a recommendation for some Botox. Just a little, to smooth those lines out.”
I gritted my teeth. “Thanks. Just email it.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
Back at my desk, I read the most recent emails, all agreeing that the Ritz and Caroline’s club would be perfect, then hit “Reply All.”
Hi everyone. Unfortunately, I’m out of town that weekend for my brother’s wedding in Mexico. I also just talked to Caryn, who said she definitely doesn’t want a trip—she wants to do something simple and closer to home. And is there any way to cut down on shower costs? Maybe we do the favors or flowers or the food ourselves?
Let me know your ideas—I’m happy to put in as much manpower as we need!
The reply took longer than I expected—nearly half an hour passed before Caroline’s email came in.
Lily,
The rest of the bridesmaids and I just had a phone conference, because frankly, we’re SHOCKED that you would spoil the surprise to Caryn within minutes of the plan being hatched. What kind of person does that?
We then called Caryn, who was ecstatic over the idea of a trip to New Orleans—it’s her favorite place in the country, after all, so I don’t know what kind of trip you told her about, but she DEFINITELY loves the idea—even though it’s not a surprise anymore, thanks to you.
As for the shower, no. My club does not allow for outside food vendors or personal catering. And unless you’re a professional florist or cookie designer, then no, the flowers or favors will not be an option either.
We’re sorry that you won’t be able to attend with us. You can Venmo me your share of the money to this email address. It will only be $1,750 for the accommodations with you not coming, but send $2,000 to cover your share of food, drink, spa, and incidentals for Caryn. And an additional $1,000 for the shower.
And in the future, please talk to us before you go running to Caryn.
Thanks,
Caroline (and the rest of the bridesmaids)
Welp. That went about how I expected. Except there was a zero percent chance that I was Venmoing Caroline three thousand dollars. And not just because I didn’t have it.
I cracked my knuckles and hit “Reply All” again. I didn’t work in PR for nothing. I knew how to talk to horrible people.
Dear Caroline et al,
I’m afraid I will not be paying for the party that I will not be attending. I’ll make my own apologies to Caryn on that front.
As for the shower, please keep in mind that I am working on a fixed budget. I will do my best to chip in my share, but we may hit a point at which I cannot go higher. I will try to rework my budget to cover my share of the costs that you’ve outlined so far.
Thank you for your understanding.
—Lily
I marched back to Caryn’s office but didn’t sit down this time.
She looked up warily. “Am I about to get another angry phone call over this?”
“Possibly. But I’m here to tell you that I will be unable to attend your bachelorette party. It’s the weekend of my brother’s wedding. And just so you hear it from me, not them, I’m also not paying two thousand dollars for a trip that I’m not going on.”
“I’m sure they don’t expect you to pay that.”
I shrugged. “Okay. Whatever. Just be aware that when they call you, that’s where I’m at.” Her cell phone started buzzing on her desk. “Right on cue.” I looked at it pointedly.
She sighed. “I really don’t have time for all of this right now. Can’t you just try to get along with them? For my sake?”
The phone stopped ringing, then began again. Caryn picked it up. “Hi Caroline.” She nodded. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Actually, she’s here with me right now. No, she told me that. I mean, it is a lot of—” She paused as Caroline cut her off. “Oh. I mean—well—let me ask her, hang on.”
“If we do it the next weekend, will you come to New Orleans then?”
“No. That’s my best friend’s bachelorette party, and I still don’t have the money.”
She pursed her lips. “She said she still can’t come,” she said into the phone. “Look, do you want her phone number so you two can talk about this directly?”
I shook my head frantically and mouthed, “No!”
“Well, you need to figure it out. I’m not getting in the middle here. I can pay my own way if I have to. No, I wasn’t implying that. Caroline, I’m grateful for everything you do. Yes. I know, you just want to make sure everything is perfect and I appreciate you so much for that. Lily just didn’t grow up like us. It’s different for her.” Long pause. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you too.”
She hung up the phone and turned back to me, still standing in her doorway. “Okay, I explained,” she said. I didn’t hear anything that sounded like an actual explanation, unless it was the implication that I grew up poor, but okay. “But Caroline has a point too that it’s not fair to ask everyone else to pay for my trip and for you to not help. So maybe if you can chip in some, it’ll smooth things over. It doesn’t have to be the full amount.”
“Are you serious right now?”
She rubbed her temple. “Lily, come on. We’re all adults here. There’s no reason for all of the drama.” She picked her phone back up. “I’m texting you both so you have each other’s numbers. You can work it out yourselves.”
“I don’t want her having my number.”
“Look, you said you’d be in my wedding. I told you what they were like and you said it was fine. Can you just stop being a drama queen and handle it?”
I was stunned into silence. A drama queen? Me?
“Fine,” I said quietly, and left her office without another word.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fuck. These. Weddings.
There. I said it. Even if I’m really just shouting it into the void because like six people are reading this blog right now. But I’m ready to drop out of all of them. Literally all of them.
Bride A, which apparently stands for Asshole, went so far beyond the realm of human comprehension today that I actually don’t think I want to be her friend anymore. Not only did she suggest I get Botox—literally, she told me to put poison in my face—but she also expects me to shell out two grand for her bachelorette weekend AT THE RITZ that I won’t even be attending because I’ll be at my brother’s wedding in Mexico.
Look. I played along when she made me get a minimizing bra and Spanx. I laughed it off when she only rejected my joke about getting a breast reduction because I would be too swollen to get an accurate dress size measurement. But she is so far over the line here that she can’t even SEE the line from where she’s standing.
But all of that said, she’s a delight compared to her future sister-in-law, who makes Regina George from Mean Girls look like Snow freaking White.
And Bride B? Girl, I love you, but you need to grow a pair! She literally asked ME to tell her mother that I didn’t want a black bridesmaid dress (I would LOVE a black bridesmaid dress—I dress like I’m on my way to a funeral most days anyway) because she didn’t have the guts to do it herself.