“Which is why we’ll let sleeping deer lie. Do you want some time to dry off? Do you think your mom can hold back the sun?”
Though I’m halfway serious, Fi laughs. I’ll take that as a win.
“It’s fine with me if we start late,” she says, tucking hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Sabby.”
Leaving Fi embracing a Stonehenge replica rock, I seek Robert out. It comes as no surprise that in classic Sasquatch fashion, he’s hiding behind an elm.
“Hey! Robert. Any chance you have a stand-up routine ready to go?” I ask, catching his arm before he lopes away. “We’re going to push the wedding out a bit. And while our guests are waiting, I’m sure they could use a laugh.”
“So could I,” says Robert. “Badum-chaaaah. See? That was the sound of a mic drop.”
“Not a drum snare,” I agree.
“Correct! Snares are terrifying,” says Robert as I herd him toward our arriving guests. “I lost a toe to one once. See?”
If Robert weren’t a Sasquatch, I’d go out on a hairy limb to suggest he’d still have trouble finding work on the comedy circuit. The good news for everyone is that a low line of clouds keeps the sunrise at bay until the moment Fi’s fiancé arrives. And when she walks down the aisle, the sun catching on her fiery curls, Fi looks beautiful. Really. Her golden-limned figure glows as warm as candlelight. Asher can’t keep his eyes off her—to the extent that he trips over his feet, face-planting into Dexter. This makes for a great photograph, and it also allows everyone relief from forced laughter.
And yet, our drive back to Salem is mostly somber.
Actually, no: I’d like it to be somber, but Mandy and Bulan are working through the leftover wedding cake Fi wasn’t allowed to bring back to her freezer.
They’ve also insisted on tuning in to classic radio.
“I thought it went well,” Mandy says from the back seat, between outsize, crumbly bites and verses from Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” “I mean, besides, you know—”
“Fi falling out of her canoe,” says Bulan.
“And her mother interrupting the ceremony.”
“Multiple times.”
“And Dexter vomiting during the handfasting.”
“I guess it was an allergy.”
“He’s flower-intolerant,” says Mandy. “So sad!”
I clear my throat to get the pair’s attention.
“I think it went okay, too. Did you see how Fi smiled when she and Asher were pronounced husband and wife? It was brilliant.” As I say it, I realize this was the first time I’d seen Fi’s face break free of any tension. In spite of my exhaustion—maybe because of it—the thought makes me do the same. “Fi seemed happy, didn’t she? In spite of everything. She even laughed when Robert tried to dance with her mom.”
“I think she loved it. And we helped make it happen!” Mandy exclaims. “Yay!”
“Hooray!” Bulan echoes. “We didn’t sink the party!”
And there goes my smile. The whole canoe debacle continues to disturb me. “What do you two think about the weird stuff that kept happening today? During setup?”
“I don’t know. Was it Becuille?” Mandy asks.
Bulan effortfully turns in his seat, fighting to speak around the shoulder strap. “Hmmph. If anything, I suspect the bride was responsible. Fi could’ve been using you to go behind her mother’s back, Sabby. She could’ve sunk her canoe into the lake on purpose.”
“No way,” I say, thinking back to her dejection about her makeup. “What woman doesn’t want to look her best on her wedding day?”
“You’re unusually obsessed with your appearance, you know,” says Bulan.
“That’s not true. I don’t want people to notice me.”
“Yeah, and you workreallyhard at it,” says Mandy. “It makes you stand out.”
