Work in progress, possible first chapter. Thoughts welcome!!
Alyse swished through the open door in a frenzy of ivory organza, her strawberry blonde hair escaping from giant curlers as she strode across the room to the mirror. One by one she unrolled the curlers and tossed them and her bouquet onto the dresser. She knew she shouldn't have tried for curls; her fair, pin-straight hair had never held so much as a wave in all her life. Exasperated, she sat down on the vanity stool and looked at herself.
She should've gone tanning. If it weren't for all the freckles, you wouldn't have been able to tell where her pale, creamy skin stopped and the dress began. As she hurriedly applied a little more bronzer to her face, neck and chest, she thanked the gods the sky was clear and bright; natural light would bode much better for the post-ceremony photo ops.
Gwenn leaned against the door frame, watching her best friend scrutinizing herself in the mirror: chin in hands, dress puffed-up around her and unzipped in the back revealing smooth, porcelain skin dotted with more of her signature freckles. Alyse was scrunching her nose, checking her make-up and practicing her smiles, unaware of Gwenn's slender frame in the upper corner of the mirror's reflection. She was just beginning to feel hopeless when Gwenn's voice startled her.
"Well, it's official. I have the most beautiful best friend in the world." A warm grin spread across Gwenn's face as Alyse spun around and knocked the bronzer to the floor.
"Jesus, you scared me," Alyse sighed, a hand clutching her chest. "How long were you standing there?"
"Not long," Gwenn said as she walked towards her in her lavender, tea-length dress and matching Dyeable shoes. She put her hands on Alyse's shoulders. "But it looks like I’m just in time. We're going to do some pre-wedding shots with the bridal party, and everyone's looking for you."
"Yeah, I guess the bride should be present for something like that," Alyse mused, smiling at her friend's reflection. "But these stupid curlers didn't work and I have no clue what to do now."
Gwenn pulled a chair up behind Alyse and sat, her long, toned legs on either side of the bride-to-be. Right then, Alyse would've killed for those legs. She'd always hated her thighs; needless to say she’d chosen a ball gown for its camouflaging purposes.
"I'll do a nice, loose French braid. Everyone's doing that these days," Gwenn said, grabbing the brush and a hair-tie off the dresser. "But let's zip you up first. You're just a mess right now!"
Gwenn placed her left hand on Alyse’s waist and carefully zipped up her up with her right. Alyse’s stomach squirmed and tumbled over on itself. She took a few deep breaths, trying to suppress a wave of nausea.
"This is really happening, Gwenny," Alyse said, staring hard at herself and her maid of honor in the mirror. “I’m getting married. Today! In less than two hours, I will be Mrs. Benjamin Terry.”
“Oh, god,” Gwenn mumbled around the hair-tie she’d stuck between her lips. “You are actually taking his name? It’s bad enough you’re marrying a dude--”
“That dude happens to be one of your best friends,” Alyse retorted, trying to keep her head straight as Gwenn braided. “And yes, I’m taking his name; sorry if that strikes you as un-feminist. And who was I supposed to marry, some chick?”
“Nah, I got that covered,” Gwenn giggled. “Soon enough, soon enough. But let’s get your nuptials sealed before we start worrying over mine.” She tied up Alyse’s copper-gold hair and sat back, admiring her handiwork. She grabbed a white stargazer lily from the bride-to-be’s bouquet and tucked it carefully into her hair, just behind her ear.
“Perfect,” she proclaimed, standing and offering Alyse her hand. “Now let’s get downstairs before your mother has a coronary.”
Alyse took Gwenn’s hand and looked up at her, imprinting the moment in her consciousness. This quiet moment was the last she’d have the rest of the day, and she was grateful it was Gwenn who had come looking for her. In that moment she was sure no girl had ever had a better friend.
Gwenn helped smooth out the folds of Alyse’s dress and the duo were off through the door and down the stairs into a sea of female relatives and friends. A yelp below assured Alyse that her mother had seen her making her way into the fray and was now bee-lining for the foot of the stairs.
“Oh my god,” Nancy McCarthy exclaimed, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders and holding her at arms‘ length for inspection. “My baby girl, oh my god look at you! Where have you been? You look gorgeous! I promised I wouldn’t cry before the ceremony. I promised I wouldn’t but I just can’t help it, I mean look at you!” She proceeded to throw her arms around Alyse and continue to gush incoherently into her collarbone.
Once she’d collected herself, she led her daughter and Gwenn by the hand through the flurry of busy women and out onto the front steps. The photographer was in the lawn, setting up his equipment.
“Now, you two just wait here while I round up the other gals,” Nancy said over her shoulder as she strode hastily back into the house. “And stay put. Don’t want you running off again!”
“It’s amazing she can still make me feel like a child at 27,” Alyse said.
She leaned against the railing and watched the photographer and his assistant running here and there, checking tripods and film and light levels. This--all of this fuss and noise and bustle--was for her, for her wedding, and it seemed so surreal. She remembered summers laying in the grassy fields of an oceanside park near her childhood home and watching beautiful brides and grooms being photographed down by the shore for the first time as a couple.
It had all been so far away then; she couldn‘t hear the photographer‘s directions, the bride‘s happy laughter, the click of the shutter--anything but the waves crashing and receding. She almost liked it better that way. She could make up the dialogue as she saw fit. It was like watching a scene from your favorite movie with the sound off and a conch shell to your ear.
A tap on the shoulder shook Alyse back to present day.
“Quick: anything in my teeth?” Gwenn bared her big, white smile and craned her neck from side to side, eyeing Alyse and waiting for her to find some errant piece of spinach from brunch. Gwenn’s smooth, olive skin looked flawless in the late-spring sunlight.
“Not a thing,” Alyse reported. She looked back out over the lawn. “And I wish I didn’t have such a smokin’ hot best friend. It’s not nice for the maid of honor to look better than the bride, you know.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, actually,” Gwenn quipped, smoothing her brown bob and feigning arrogance.
“I’m serious!”
“You’re ridiculous. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.”
Alyse snapped her head around and locked eyes with Gwenn. The words hung between them as warm breath in cold air.
“Well, thank you,” Alyse blustered, breaking the stare and becoming very interested with the beading on her corset. “Even though I know you have to say that today.”
The screen door behind them flew inward and Alyse’s friends, cousins, nieces, aunts and grandmothers came rushing out. The two girls jumped apart to accommodate the traffic: an estrogen-charged blur of lavender and lilies.
Gwenn hoped she’d only imagined the awkward pause between them, though she felt inside that she‘d crossed some important yet invisible line. As a lesbian, she’d always been careful not to compliment her straight-girl friends too much, afraid they would take it in a way she hadn’t intended.
The wagon-train of bridal party members ended with the bang of the screen door. Alyse nudged Gwenn and the friends shared a look of “here we go!“. Arm in arm, they stepped off the tiny landing and down the stairs toward the photographer.
Staring straight ahead, Gwenn fingered her engagement ring and flooded her mind with snapshots of Caroline.
She should've gone tanning. If it weren't for all the freckles, you wouldn't have been able to tell where her pale, creamy skin stopped and the dress began. As she hurriedly applied a little more bronzer to her face, neck and chest, she thanked the gods the sky was clear and bright; natural light would bode much better for the post-ceremony photo ops.
Gwenn leaned against the door frame, watching her best friend scrutinizing herself in the mirror: chin in hands, dress puffed-up around her and unzipped in the back revealing smooth, porcelain skin dotted with more of her signature freckles. Alyse was scrunching her nose, checking her make-up and practicing her smiles, unaware of Gwenn's slender frame in the upper corner of the mirror's reflection. She was just beginning to feel hopeless when Gwenn's voice startled her.
"Well, it's official. I have the most beautiful best friend in the world." A warm grin spread across Gwenn's face as Alyse spun around and knocked the bronzer to the floor.
"Jesus, you scared me," Alyse sighed, a hand clutching her chest. "How long were you standing there?"
"Not long," Gwenn said as she walked towards her in her lavender, tea-length dress and matching Dyeable shoes. She put her hands on Alyse's shoulders. "But it looks like I’m just in time. We're going to do some pre-wedding shots with the bridal party, and everyone's looking for you."
"Yeah, I guess the bride should be present for something like that," Alyse mused, smiling at her friend's reflection. "But these stupid curlers didn't work and I have no clue what to do now."
Gwenn pulled a chair up behind Alyse and sat, her long, toned legs on either side of the bride-to-be. Right then, Alyse would've killed for those legs. She'd always hated her thighs; needless to say she’d chosen a ball gown for its camouflaging purposes.
"I'll do a nice, loose French braid. Everyone's doing that these days," Gwenn said, grabbing the brush and a hair-tie off the dresser. "But let's zip you up first. You're just a mess right now!"
Gwenn placed her left hand on Alyse’s waist and carefully zipped up her up with her right. Alyse’s stomach squirmed and tumbled over on itself. She took a few deep breaths, trying to suppress a wave of nausea.
"This is really happening, Gwenny," Alyse said, staring hard at herself and her maid of honor in the mirror. “I’m getting married. Today! In less than two hours, I will be Mrs. Benjamin Terry.”
“Oh, god,” Gwenn mumbled around the hair-tie she’d stuck between her lips. “You are actually taking his name? It’s bad enough you’re marrying a dude--”
“That dude happens to be one of your best friends,” Alyse retorted, trying to keep her head straight as Gwenn braided. “And yes, I’m taking his name; sorry if that strikes you as un-feminist. And who was I supposed to marry, some chick?”
“Nah, I got that covered,” Gwenn giggled. “Soon enough, soon enough. But let’s get your nuptials sealed before we start worrying over mine.” She tied up Alyse’s copper-gold hair and sat back, admiring her handiwork. She grabbed a white stargazer lily from the bride-to-be’s bouquet and tucked it carefully into her hair, just behind her ear.
“Perfect,” she proclaimed, standing and offering Alyse her hand. “Now let’s get downstairs before your mother has a coronary.”
Alyse took Gwenn’s hand and looked up at her, imprinting the moment in her consciousness. This quiet moment was the last she’d have the rest of the day, and she was grateful it was Gwenn who had come looking for her. In that moment she was sure no girl had ever had a better friend.
Gwenn helped smooth out the folds of Alyse’s dress and the duo were off through the door and down the stairs into a sea of female relatives and friends. A yelp below assured Alyse that her mother had seen her making her way into the fray and was now bee-lining for the foot of the stairs.
“Oh my god,” Nancy McCarthy exclaimed, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders and holding her at arms‘ length for inspection. “My baby girl, oh my god look at you! Where have you been? You look gorgeous! I promised I wouldn’t cry before the ceremony. I promised I wouldn’t but I just can’t help it, I mean look at you!” She proceeded to throw her arms around Alyse and continue to gush incoherently into her collarbone.
Once she’d collected herself, she led her daughter and Gwenn by the hand through the flurry of busy women and out onto the front steps. The photographer was in the lawn, setting up his equipment.
“Now, you two just wait here while I round up the other gals,” Nancy said over her shoulder as she strode hastily back into the house. “And stay put. Don’t want you running off again!”
“It’s amazing she can still make me feel like a child at 27,” Alyse said.
She leaned against the railing and watched the photographer and his assistant running here and there, checking tripods and film and light levels. This--all of this fuss and noise and bustle--was for her, for her wedding, and it seemed so surreal. She remembered summers laying in the grassy fields of an oceanside park near her childhood home and watching beautiful brides and grooms being photographed down by the shore for the first time as a couple.
It had all been so far away then; she couldn‘t hear the photographer‘s directions, the bride‘s happy laughter, the click of the shutter--anything but the waves crashing and receding. She almost liked it better that way. She could make up the dialogue as she saw fit. It was like watching a scene from your favorite movie with the sound off and a conch shell to your ear.
A tap on the shoulder shook Alyse back to present day.
“Quick: anything in my teeth?” Gwenn bared her big, white smile and craned her neck from side to side, eyeing Alyse and waiting for her to find some errant piece of spinach from brunch. Gwenn’s smooth, olive skin looked flawless in the late-spring sunlight.
“Not a thing,” Alyse reported. She looked back out over the lawn. “And I wish I didn’t have such a smokin’ hot best friend. It’s not nice for the maid of honor to look better than the bride, you know.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, actually,” Gwenn quipped, smoothing her brown bob and feigning arrogance.
“I’m serious!”
“You’re ridiculous. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life.”
Alyse snapped her head around and locked eyes with Gwenn. The words hung between them as warm breath in cold air.
“Well, thank you,” Alyse blustered, breaking the stare and becoming very interested with the beading on her corset. “Even though I know you have to say that today.”
The screen door behind them flew inward and Alyse’s friends, cousins, nieces, aunts and grandmothers came rushing out. The two girls jumped apart to accommodate the traffic: an estrogen-charged blur of lavender and lilies.
Gwenn hoped she’d only imagined the awkward pause between them, though she felt inside that she‘d crossed some important yet invisible line. As a lesbian, she’d always been careful not to compliment her straight-girl friends too much, afraid they would take it in a way she hadn’t intended.
The wagon-train of bridal party members ended with the bang of the screen door. Alyse nudged Gwenn and the friends shared a look of “here we go!“. Arm in arm, they stepped off the tiny landing and down the stairs toward the photographer.
Staring straight ahead, Gwenn fingered her engagement ring and flooded her mind with snapshots of Caroline.