Something Blue Page 3

  Shannon shook her head. “Mom, that’s his side. We’re pink.”

  “I know,” their mother said. “Everybody on our side hates her. I’m going to have to put her with his side.”

  “They’ll hate her too,” Shannon said. “Won’t they, Kat?”

  Katherine said, “I don’t want to marry Andy.”

  Shannon and her mother looked at her. Then they looked at each other.

  “Premarital jitters,” her mother said.

  “You don’t understand,” Katherine said, surprised by how calm her voice sounded. “I don’t care who Aunt Rita sits with. I don’t care about all those people coming from Pennsylvania who I hardly know—”

  “Those are your father’s cousins,” her mother said. “You know them.”

  “I haven’t seen them since I was seven,” Katherine said.

  Her mother and Shannon looked very much alike. Katherine could see them on the golf course in matching outfits, at the country club dinner dances on Saturday nights looking almost like sisters. She was the one who had inherited her father’s looks. His slightly too-thick legs, his stick-straight pale blond hair and long thin nose.

  Recently, Katherine has grown her hair long, and has it professionally highlighted every ten weeks. She grows impatient, though, with blow-drying it for volume, applying sculpting foam for height, and instead pulls it back into a low ponytail tied with a ribbon, the way she did when she was a teenager, back in private school wearing plaid uniforms in kelly green and blue with matching knee socks and penny loafers. She keeps neat spools of ribbons in her bureau drawer, arranged by color and design.

  Still, on a good day, when she worked very hard on herself, and in a certain favorable light, she looked a little like Meryl Streep. But Shannon and her mother, both tall and slender, with healthy auburn hair and classic features, wake looking perfect.

  Her mother sighed and looked at her watch. “I have a tennis game in two hours, Missy. Do you think we can get this done?”

  Shannon patted Katherine’s hand. “Yes,” she said, “we can. Right, Kat?”

  Katherine bit down on her bottom lip. Her chest was getting tight somewhere deep inside. She tried to imagine Andy’s face if she called off this wedding. She tried to imagine calling all the guests, returning all the gifts. She gulped for air, tried to breathe.

  Her mother smiled, her tanned face full of sympathy.

  “I don’t want to—”

  Shannon shoved a glass of brandy into her hand. “Sip on this,” she said. She looked over at their mother. “Will this happen to me when Rich and I get married?”

  Katherine closed her eyes. She concentrated on breathing the way she had learned in a college yoga class she and her roommate Lucy had taken. There were yogis, they had been told, who were so disciplined they could breathe out of one nostril at a time, alternating back and forth, left then right, left then right.

  Slowly, she inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Then she opened her eyes again. Shannon and her mother were watching her closely. She smiled, picked up the pink tag that had Aunt Rita’s name written in Shannon’s perfect penmanship.

  “We’ll put her next to Andy’s Aunt Irene. No one likes her either,” Katherine said.

  Andy was starting his residency in dermatology at Mass General in the fall. They had all summer to find an apartment in Boston, to choose furniture. Everything was so planned, so right. Katherine had a teaching job all lined up. She had a hope chest full of linens—all-cotton sheets, monogrammed towels, quilts and throw blankets and down pillows.

  Every day, she told herself she was lucky. She woke up, feeling depressed, and made herself say it out loud. “I am the luckiest person I know,” she said. It sounded as fake and hollow as she felt. The closer the wedding got, the more Katherine stayed in bed. Even though it was early June, sunny and warm, she piled blankets on top of blankets and crawled underneath them, with pillows over her head and all the windows shut.

  When her mother found her that way, she opened the windows and stood over her. “You are acting like a spoiled brat, Missy,” she said. “And you keep saying you can’t breathe. Well, it’s no wonder. It’s so stuffy in here. And you’ve taken all the blankets out of the cedar closet. Now get up and put them all back.”

  But after her mother left the room, Katherine closed the windows again. Then she went over to her hope chest. It looked just like a coffin, she thought. Touching it gave her the creeps. She pulled out the five-point Hudson Bay blanket that someone had given them as an engagement gift, and wrapped herself in that before she got under all the other blankets. She stayed that way until Andy came for her.

  Katherine wondered how she had gone out with him so long and never noticed before how pale his skin was. All white and pasty, like the skin of a chicken. It made her feel nauseated. In college, on the heels of Bruce Jenner winning the gold medal in the decathlon in the Olympics, everyone used to say that Andy resembled him. Lately though, with Andy’s straight, even bangs and deep-set eyes, Katherine thought he looked more like Pete Rose. Or Barney Rubble. She found herself wondering more and more how she had ever found him handsome at all.

  “Five days,” Andy said. He was naked, on his back, his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

  Katherine hoped it was dark enough that he wouldn’t be able to see what she’d done up there. One night, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d stood on the bed and written on the ceiling in black Magic Marker the words to all the old songs she could remember. “Operator” by Jim Croce. “Sentimental Lady” by Fleetwood Mac. All the songs from Saturday Night Fever and Camelot. There were dozens of them up there.

  “Then two weeks in France,” he was saying.

  Katherine pulled the blankets around her more tightly. He had an annoying habit of repeating things, too. Every night that her mother went out, Andy came over and they made love, always the same way. Then he’d start this. The countdown. The two weeks in France. Next he’d map off all the areas of Boston and the rents in each. Then he’d ask her to stop wearing her diaphragm.

  “Back Bay,” Andy said, “is a little high but worth it. Although some of the streets—”

  “Are run-down,” Katherine said.

  “I know we’ve gone over this,” he told her. “I’m excited. That’s all.” He reached over and took her hand in his, led it down, across his stomach, to his penis. “In more ways than one,” he said.

  She felt like a robot. She grasped it in her hands and tugged gently, the way he liked. It took ten tugs before he’d start to moan. Twelve before he put his finger in her and kissed her breasts, very symmetrically, first one, then the other. The same number of times each. Then he’d climb on top of her and begin. She even counted how many thrusts it took before it was over.

  On schedule, Andy rolled on top of her.

  He pressed his lips to her ear. “Take it out,” he whispered. “Don’t wear it.”

  Katherine shivered beneath him. She shook her head.

  “Don’t you love me?” he whispered.

  She laughed, louder than she meant to. “I just don’t want to be pregnant on my wedding day,” she told him.

  “Is that it?” he said, smiling now. “You’re just an old-fashioned girl? Is that it?”

  He entered her. She tried not to count his thrusts. She stared upward, at the ceiling. In her own cramped writing she read, “Stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive, uh, uh, uh, uh, stayin’ alive.”

  The train arrives at Penn Station right on schedule. 11:07. Katherine climbs the stairs, following the signs toward Seventh Avenue. She has a suitcase filled with useless items. All of her teaching aids, a framed photograph of her childhood cat Sparkle, an Ultima II makeup kit that is as big as a large box of Crayola crayons and that she has never used, some clothes and underwear, the paperbacks she had bought to read on her honeymoon in France, and an odd assortment of things like a Swiss Army knife, a pen flashlight, and a mini first aid kit. Survival things.

  Katherine has
a vague plan. She is going to call Lucy, even though she hasn’t seen her in two years. Even though Lucy has tried very hard to ignore Katherine’s overtures to continue their friendship. She is not sure why Lucy doesn’t keep in touch with her, and right now, that doesn’t even matter. She’ll beg her to let her stay with her for a while if she has to. She’ll pay her. She’ll do anything Lucy wants.

  Lucy returned the response card to Katherine’s wedding invitation with a note that said she had to work today. But Katherine thinks Lucy was lying and that she just didn’t want to come to the wedding. She’s sure Lucy will be home.

  Katherine passes a pay phone, takes a breath, and stops at it. She knows, however, that before she can talk to Lucy, she has to call Andy. She is surprisingly calm.

  He answers right away.

  “Hi,” she says. Her voice is lighter and happier than it’s been in a long time. She can’t help it. “It’s me.”

  Andy laughs, a little nervous laugh. “For a while there,” he says, “I thought you were leaving me at the altar.”

  “I am,” Katherine says softly.

  There is a long silence during which Katherine watches them pull sheets of cookies out of the oven at a David’s Cookies in front of her.

  It’s Andy that talks first. “What did I do?” he asks her.

  “It’s not you,” she tells him. “It’s me. I’m miserable and unhappy.” And then, like a talking thesaurus, she continues. “Bleak, depressed—”

  “All right,” he says. “All right. But why?”

  “Andy,” she says. “I’m just despondent—”

  “God damn it, Katherine. Stop. I feel awful enough. My Aunt Irene is downstairs acting all indignant because she came all the way down from Portland. My father is on the phone with the tuxedo rental people trying to get a refund. My mother is in tears and I don’t even know what to say to anybody.”

  Katherine studies the newsstand now. People are dropping change on the counter, grabbing newspapers and hurrying off. Everything is moving quickly, like an old Keystone Kops movie.

  “And I love you,” Andy is saying. “If you come back now we’ll elope. I think that’s what got to you. All this wedding stuff. Right?”

  “No,” Katherine says. “I’m just blue. That’s all.”

  She hears him swallow. She is afraid he may start to cry, so she says, “I’m going now, Andy.” And then she hangs up, fast. Her heart is racing. She dials the phone again and when she hears her sister’s voice, she almost hangs up on her without saying anything.

  Shannon sounds panic-stricken. She says, “Hello, hello, hello.”

  “Calm down,” Katherine says. “It’s me. I’m in New York and I’m fine.”

  “New York!” Shannon says, her voice near hysteria.

  “I’m not coming back, either,” Katherine adds.

  “Do you know what is going on here?”

  Katherine almost smiles. “Yes.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on here,” Shannon says. “There are flowers everywhere. Bridesmaids all dressed and ready to go. Dozens of guests swarming around, drinking the champagne.”

  “I know,” Katherine says.

  She hears the doorbell ring, excited voices shouting.

  “Oh, no,” Shannon says. “The limo just arrived. What am I supposed to tell him?”

  “The same thing you’re telling everyone else,” Katherine says.

  “What am I supposed to tell Andy?”

  “I already talked to Andy,” Katherine says. She hears the doorbell again, more voices.

  “Hold on a sec,” Shannon tells her.

  Katherine hangs up the telephone. She picks up her suitcase and buys six cookies from David’s. Macadamia and white chocolate. Chocolate peanut butter. Oatmeal raisin. And three chocolate chocolate chunk. She cannot remember the last time anything tasted so good. Last night, the lobster at the rehearsal dinner tasted like cardboard.

  She eats all six cookies, then goes to the newsstand and buys a handful of lottery tickets. She’s never played the lottery before. The man behind the counter is from India. His voice is soft and musical as he explains how to play. He tells her the prize is eleven million dollars. She chooses her birthday, her wedding day, the train’s arrival and departure time for her numbers.

  As she walks away, the man calls to her, “You’re a winner, miss. I can tell.”

  Katherine steps outside and takes her place in a taxi line. There is noise and the smell of exhaust. Around her people are shouting at each other, horns are blaring. The sky is clear and blue. There is a warm breeze. She realizes she is breathing as easy as a yogi. She realizes she is smiling.

  Temps

  LUCY AND JULIA ARE watching How to Marry a Millionaire on Lucy’s VCR when Katherine calls from Penn Station. They like to rent movies with a theme, to pretend they own a revival movie theater and plan the features. Tonight it’s movies about women in New York City. By the time the telephone rings, they have already watched Kitty Foyle and Hannah and Her Sisters. They have already agreed that they really should choose the billings for a revival movie theater because they put together such great ones.

  “Don’t answer it!” Julia tells Lucy. “This is the part where she finds out he’s just a fire ranger instead of a millionaire.”

  Lucy aims the remote control and freezes the movie, Betty Grable dressed like a snow bunny and smiling dreamily.

  “I hate interruptions,” Julia groans.

  “It’s probably Jasper,” Lucy says. Then she picks up the phone and says hello. She keeps her eyes on Betty Grable.

  “I knew you weren’t working this weekend,” Katherine says nervously.

  Lucy frowns. She recognizes Katherine’s voice immediately, but Lucy can’t imagine her former best friend actually calling to check up on her on her wedding day. “Aren’t you supposed to be dancing to ‘What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life’ or something by now?” Lucy asks.

  Katherine laughs and Lucy is sure there is a quiver in her voice.

  “Probably I should be,” Katherine is saying. “By now.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t come but …”

  Julia looks up from the Vogue magazine she is leafing through and mouths “Who is it?”

  But Lucy only shakes her head while Katherine says, “No, no. It’s all right. It would have been a wasted trip anyway.”

  Lucy hears her take a big breath.

  “Want to hear something funny?” Katherine says, her voice seeming suddenly small.

  “Sure,” Lucy says. She is sure that Katherine must be drunk. Too much wedding champagne. She remembers that Katherine always got maudlin and overly sentimental when she drank, even back in college. She is probably at a pay phone in the country club, weeping and calling all her old sorority sisters to tell them how much she loves them, even though they didn’t go to the wedding. Once she decides this is what’s happening, Lucy is ready for anything.

  Julia comes and stands next to Lucy, trying to listen.

  “Well,” Katherine says, “for starters, I didn’t get married today.”

  “Oops,” Lucy says. “I thought it was today. The twelfth.”

  “It is,” Katherine says. “I came here instead.”

  “Here?” Lucy repeats.

  “Where’s here?” Julia whispers too loudly.

  Katherine says, “I don’t have any more change. My time must be almost up. I’m here in New York. I called off the wedding and I came here instead.”

  Even though Lucy hasn’t seen Katherine in a long time, she knows her well. She knows she would never do this.

  “Did Andy change his mind?” Lucy says. She thinks that Katherine will never survive being left by Andy. They have been together forever. Once, junior year, he broke up with her briefly and she stayed in bed for a week with the hives, large purple welts that covered her face and chest. She imagines Katherine now, in New York, all purple-faced and swollen and her heart almost breaks.

  Julia is saying, “Who�
��s Andy?”

  And the operator is asking for more money.

  Katherine says, “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”

  “All right,” Lucy says. “Stay calm.” That is what Katherine always told her when they were roommates and Lucy had a disaster. Stay calm, Katherine would say, I’m here. Then, it was always Lucy falling apart and Katherine the one who stayed together. Lucy was the one with pregnancy scares, bad romances, or drinking too much and needing to be driven home.

  They are disconnected before Lucy or Katherine can say anything else.

  Lucy looks at Julia. “Shit,” she says.

  “Who’s Andy?” Julia says again. “You never mentioned an Andy.”

  “Katherine’s here,” Lucy says.

  “Connecticut Katherine?” Julia shrieks. “The Katherine?”

  Lucy flops into the rocking chair. “I’m going to have to let her stay here,” she says, groaning. “I can’t not let her stay here.”

  “Isn’t she married to a doctor or something?” Julia is saying. “Doesn’t she teach first grade in somewhere awful? Like Westport? Isn’t she really horrible?”

  “Old Lyme,” Lucy says. “And she’s not horrible exactly. She’s just different.” Lucy is unsure why she is bothering to defend her. She does think Katherine is horrible. Sort of. They had long since grown apart. Sometimes, after college, when Lucy used to talk to Katherine, she felt like they were actually from two different countries. She would listen to Katherine and wonder how they had ever been best friends, what they could possibly have talked about all those nights side by side in their twin beds talking in the dark.

  Julia is saying, “This is so great. Let’s guess what she’ll have on. I say a shirtdress. A pink shirtdress.”

  They play a version of this game sometimes with strangers. Let’s guess what the next person who comes out of the elevator will be wearing. Let’s guess what that guy will have on under his coat. But it feels mean doing it to Katherine.

  “What am I going to do with her?” Lucy says instead.

  “We could kill her and put her in the freezer. Then when the doctor-boyfriend comes looking for her we could kill him too,” Julia says. She opens some seltzer and drinks straight from the bottle. “We could shave her head and make her into a Hare Krishna.”