Chapter 13: The Wedding

It was after midnight when we got to the room. Charlie had had four Singapore Slings and was feeling no pain. I got him stripped down to his briefs and into bed, thinking that he would fall asleep immediately. I was wrong.

"What are you going to say about me?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Tomorrow night, you have to make a speech. What are you going to say about me?"

I'd been to three weddings before, Ned and Penelope were married at our house, Alice and Connor had been married in a church, and Mr. Oldham and Suzanne's wedding had been a small informal affair. There had been speeches after the ceremonies, but I hadn't been called upon to say more than a few words.

"I don't know. I just found out that I'm expected to make a speech. What do you want me to say about you?"

Charlie pushed the covers back and sat on the side of the bed. "I think you should begin by telling how we met and some of the stuff we've been through together, you know, roommates and stuff. You can even tell them how we helped each other ... except it may be better to leave out that night ... you know."

I took a seat on my bed and faced him. "The night I got you laid?" I laughed.

"You didn't get me laid. You just put the idea in her head. I took if from there."

"Charlie, you frightened the girl. I had to show you how to make her want to do it with you."

"That's the kind of thing you can omit from the speech. Stick to the girls I romanced, but don't spread it on too thick."

"Too thick? I introduced you to every girl you ever dated. After the night you lost your cherry, there was Margaret. Who introduced you to her?"

"You did, Sammy, but let's not mention her either."

"Who introduced you to that girl when we were freshmen? What was her name?"

"Angie," Charlie said.

"Right, Angie, I saw her the other day, but I couldn't remember her name. She said she heard you were getting married."

"Really? What did you tell her?"

"Megan was with me. I let her tell Angie that you were marrying someone we've known a long time."

"I fucked her. You never did," he boasted.

"You're right, Charlie. I never fucked Angie."

"Maybe it would be best if you don't mention her either," he said, speaking in a low, confidential voice, like Angie Foster was our secret.

"How about Gladys? Should I mention her?"

Charlie's eyes widened. "I found her first. She's one that I introduced to you," he said, triumphantly.

I considered reminding him that I had taken Gladys away from him, but held my tongue. That was a deed I wasn't proud of.

"I introduced you to Debra. I saw her first. What should I say about her?"

Charlie got up and walked to the small refrigerator at one end of the room. "Let's see if there's any gin in here. I found out that gin is the main ingredient in a Singapore Sling."

"You're going to have one hell of a hangover on your wedding day," I warned.

"Ah, they've got pineapple juice, too, but I don't see any lime juice," he said, mixing the contents of the small gin bottle and the can of juice into a glass.

I decided that Charlie was twenty-one and old enough to know better. It was his head. Was he getting cold feet the night before his marriage? I tried again. "Is it okay if I say that I introduced you to Debra?"

Charlie took a long pull of his drink, frowned, and added two ice cubes to the glass. "You can say that I took her away from you," he said with more excitement than I'd seen from him in a long time.

"She never was my girl, but if that's what you want, I'll say it the way you tell me."

Charlie came back to the bed, placed his drink on a night-stand, and sat down, facing me.

"You're the best friend a guy like me could have, Sammy. Have I ever done a single thing to pay you back? No, I've never done a fucking thing."

It was embarrassing. Was he forgetting that I'd fucked his mother? I never would forget Sheila. For a second I thought he was going to cry. I was wrong. I watched as he picked up the receiver and dialed a number.

"It's close to one in the morning, Charlie," I said.

"I want to tell Deb what you're going to say about us."

"Shit." I whispered and started to remove my clothes. I would let him talk to Debra and then we were going to get some sleep. I half listened to Charlie as he pleaded with one of Debra's parents.

"I know what time it is. I also know the date. I want to talk to my wife. She will be my wife in a few hours. Put her on the phone, please. Thank ... wake her up. She'll want to talk ... yes ... please wake her."

Charlie put his hands over the mouthpiece. "How would you like that bastard for a father-in-law? My old man is paying for everything ... Hi, sweetie, did I wake you?"

I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, not really wanting to hear what Charlie told Debra about my speech. I was taking a leak when I heard him call me.

"Megan wants to talk to you," he said.

I dashed into the room and took the receiver out of his hand. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Were you asleep?"

"No, I couldn't sleep. I'm glad Charlie called us. I wanted to hear your voice before I ... it will help me go to sleep."

"Does hearing my voice make you sleepy?"

"No, silly, it makes me feel ... safe."

"Hearing your voice make me have..."

"Don't say it, Sammy," she said, giggling.

"Okay."

After a pause, "Are you saying my voice is sexy?"

"Yes. Charlie is reaching for the phone. I think he wants to speak to Deb."

"She's trying to rip the phone out of my hands, too."

"Where are you staying tomorrow night?"

"Deb's mother wants me to stay here."

"See if you can..." I heard a squeal and then Debra's voice, demanding that I put Charlie back on the phone.

I relinquished the receiver to him and crawled under the covers. I don't know how long they talked. I woke up at eight-thirty and ordered breakfast from room service. After eating, I went downstairs and bought a newspaper and two magazines.

Charlie slept until ten-forty when the ringing telephone woke him. He stumbled to the bathroom, leaving the telephone for me to answer. It was his father. Charles senior wanted to have a word with his son. I told him that Charlie was in the bathroom and would be out soon. He was still talking when I yelled in the direction of the bathroom.

"Charlie, your Dad wants to talk to you," I said, laying the receiver on the nightstand.

They talked for thirty minutes. Well, his Dad did most of the talking. What I heard Charlie say was mainly, "Yes, Dad..." At one point he said, "It's my life."

I used the time to work on my speech. When Charlie finished the call, I handed him the first page of what I planned to cover.

"This says you had sex with Deb. You never even dated her," he objected.

"No, it only implies that we had sex. I asked her if she was breaking up with me because you were a better lover, and she answered that it was because you were taller than me."

"This is bullshit! I'm crossing it out," he said, furious with me.

This was the wrong time to joke around with Charlie. He was already upset after talking to his father. I was making it worse. I agreed to change the wording.

"You need to get something in you stomach. Do you feel like eating?" I asked.

"I want to talk to Deb," he said.

"No, you don't. Put some clothes on and we'll get something to eat."

Charlie was insistent. "I'm going to call Deb."

"Put your clothes on while I order room service. Have something to eat, and then you can talk to her."

That's how the entire day went. Charlie was a bundle of nerves, and I had to practice patience, cajole, and negotiate to make him do what was best. Logic didn't work. My best weapon turned out to be the speech I would make. At one point, he became so exasperated with a line I'd inserted in the speech that he resorted to threatening me.

"Someday, you'll be in my position and I'll be your best man. I know some nasty stuff about you that makes the crap you're writing about me look like baby shit."

He made a good point; I agreed to tone down my remarks.

Sheila phoned the room twice, once to see if we had everything we needed and again to ask if we were getting dressed. It was only three P M, but I told her we would get ready to go.

My tux had felt all right the day before when I tried it on. But now, the only thing I was wearing that fit was my shoes, which were the ones I'd brought with me.

It was four-fifty when I dropped Charlie off at a side door to the church. Guests were already arriving and I had trouble finding a parking place. As soon as I got inside the church, I heard organ music playing. Someone took my coat, and pointed to a closet where I could find it after the ceremony. I was directed through a series of doors, and eventually found myself standing next to Charlie at the front of the church.

Everyone turned to see the bride make her entrance. Debra was wearing a white dress, and looking radiant. I don't remember much about the rest of the ceremony. I guess it went well. All I could think of was Charlie saying that when my turn came, he would be the best man, and he had some nasty stuff on me that he wouldn't hesitate to use if I didn't amend the crap I had written down.

As soon as the bride and groom were pronounced man and wife, they marched to the back of the church, while the audience remained standing. The photographer's assistant ushered us outside to a courtyard. A minute later, we were joined by Charlie and Debra. It was a chilly day, and everyone was begging the photographer to take the pictures so we could go back inside.

He lined the entire wedding party in two rows, took three shots of us, and dismissed the ushers and bridesmaids. Megan and I hung around to watch the mothers join the bride and groom for a picture. Finally the photographer called for Charlie and Debra to pose in front of a fountain. The photographer was thanking them for posing when Debra spoke up. "We want a picture with Sammy and Megan."

Megan dutifully stood next to Deb and I stood next to Charlie while the photographer snapped three shots of us.

"Take one of just Megan and Sammy together," Debra demanded, and we obliged her, holding hands and smiling at each other. Megan's hair was combed back and bundled at the back of her head.

"You look fantastic," I told her, just as the picture was being taken.

"Thank you," she said. I put my arm around her. She put her hand over mine, holding it against her waist, and we smiled for a second picture to be snapped.

"Let's go inside and get our coats," I said, feeling her shiver in the cold.

"What room are you in at the hotel?" she asked.

"Six-seventeen," I answered, letting my mind go wild with anticipation as to why she wanted to know my room number.

The next thing I knew, we were outside, wearing our coats, and waving at the bride and groom as they drove away in the backseat of a limo. I felt Megan's hand in mine.

"I'll ride to the hotel with you," she said.

That suited me fine.

"I'm riding with Sammy," she said to Mrs. Simmons, who was rounding up all the bridesmaids. We were out of earshot before Debra's mother had time to voice a complaint about Megan taking off with me.

We joined the procession of cars en-route to the hotel. "I left one of my bags in your trunk. Would you mind taking it up to your room?" she asked.

I smiled at her, knowing that she was planning to stay in my room that night. She smiled back.

We drew stares from the other guests as I carried Megan's bag through the lobby. I don't believe she intended to go up to the room with me, but at the last minute, I pulled her into the elevator. She giggled.

"Did you fall asleep thinking of me last night?" she asked.

"Yes."

She smiled, timidly. We were only gone long enough to stash her bag and our coats in the room, but when we entered the receiving line, Mrs. Simmons took Megan aside for a chat. I was in my seat next to Charlie when Megan joined us, wearing a sheepish grin on her lips.

Sheila was seated to my left. She guided me through my duties of introducing the after dinner speakers and everything went as smoothly as possible. Most of the speakers were very complimentary of the couple, although I did get the impression from Debra's father that he didn't approve of the marriage. He stood and spoke for five minutes about how proud he and he wife were of their daughter. He didn't mention Charlie's name once. He ended with, "We've always had faith that our daughter would make sound decisions. Sometimes, our faith is shaken, but she hasn't let us down yet."

Charlie's father was seated near the head-table with his young wife. I could tell that he was disappointed at not being called upon to speak, but I was following Sheila's outline, and there was nothing I could do.

When my turn came, I got a big laugh when I showed how much of my speech had been crossed out by Charlie. From there on, it went downhill. I blamed Charlie for cutting my best stuff.

My job ended when the leader of the band ask the bride and groom to take the floor for the first dance. Megan moved over to Charlie's seat and we watched them until other couples began taking the floor. Charlie's childhood friend showed up to invite Megan to dance.

"It would be rude to refuse," she whispered to me. "I'll be back soon."

I discovered that I was the only one at the head table who was not dancing. Looking around, I didn't see anyone I wanted to dance with, so I poured another glass of wine and watched the dancers on the floor. Everyone was moving in slow motion, not really dancing. I saw Kent and Amy among the crowd, and wandered where Skip and Laura had disappeared to. Charlie and Debra were being congratulated by well-wishers, Cyril and Sheila were chatting with friends, as were Debra's parents. Megan was talking to her partner.

"What were you lecturing him on?" I asked, when she returned to Charlie's chair.

"I told him in a nice way to not make a pest of himself."

"In other words, you said not to ask you to dance again?"

"I was polite about it," she said, grinning.

"Come on, what did you tell him?"

"What do you think I said?" she asked.

Seeing one of the other ushers heading our way, I reached for her hand. "I think we better dance before someone else absconds with you."

The small dance floor was crowded. Megan eased her lips next to my ear and whispered, "What do you think I said?" she asked for the second time.

"I think you told him that I'm the jealous type and I want every dance with you."

She laughed. "That's close. I told him that you sometimes break tennis balls by squeezing them."

"Is that all? What else did you tell him?"

She became quiet. Charlie and Debra caught up with us. Debra wanted to chat. I ask Charlie where they were going to honeymoon. He said they didn't have definite plans. "We're going to drive a few miles each day and stop at nice motels. We'll be back here to have Thanksgiving dinner with Deb's parents. We'll have lunch with Mom and Cyril on Friday, and then we'll go back to Pontiac."

I overheard Megan asking Debra to take her second bag back to Pontiac. "I'm staying in Sammy's room tonight," she said.

"My mother is expecting you to sleep in my room," Debra said.

"I already got a lecture from her. She warned me that the same thing that happened to you will happen to me," Megan said, blushing.

"Didn't you tell her about your arrangement with Sammy?"

"I tried to, but she wouldn't listen."

Debra was thoughtful for a couple of seconds. "Who would believe that you two aren't doing the horizontal mambo? I wouldn't believe it either if I didn't know you so well."

I guess tradition called for us to change partners for one dance. I considered asking Debra to dance with me, but decided it didn't appeal to me. As I told Megan, "Dancing with Debra Simmons was all I thought about after the first time I saw her. She was very popular, and I was only able to dance with her once the next time we played Dearborn. When I came back to C.M.A. for my junior year, I'd forgotten about her."

"I'm glad we didn't change partners. I prefer dancing every dance with you," Megan said. The dance floor was less crowded, but we still danced slow and close. We danced every dance until the cake was wheeled in.

The photographer snapped pictures of Charlie and Debra as they cut the first slices, and then smeared each other with frosting. Charlie handed the knife to me, saying they were going to change into travel clothes. I cut slices of cake, and Megan served them, until all the guests had their fill.

Sheila invited us to have a seat. "You must be tired. You've been on your feet for hours. What happened to my son?" she asked.

I reminded her that Charlie and Debra were changing into travel clothes. "It doesn't take over an hour to change clothes," she said.

Guests were stopping by the table to say goodnight. Sheila apologized to them, saying she didn't know what was keeping Charlie. Megan and I knowingly looked at each other.

It was after ten-thirty, and the band was to play until eleven. A stream of men, some young, some older, some single, some married, some sober, some not so sober, stopped by the table to ask Megan to dance. She graciously declined their offers, smiling as she told them she was tired.

Charlie's father stopped by the table, curtly acknowledged his ex-wife's presence, and shook my hand like we were old acquaintances. He introduced the young lady with him as Meg, the love of his life. I introduced Megan as my very good friend. He said something about giving up on his son returning and left with Meg in tow.

Debra's mother joined us, voicing her concern that Charles had whisked her daughter off without saying goodnight to the guests. After being assured that Charlie and Debra would be back soon, she turned her attention to Megan.

"You're coming home with us, aren't you, Dear?"

Megan smiled at Mrs. Simmons the same way she had smiled at the men who had asked her to dance. "I'm staying in Sammy's room. He's going to take me to the airport tomorrow."

"I hope you will be careful, Dear. I'd feel responsible if the same thing happens to you that happened to my daughter," Mrs. Simmons persisted.

"We're always careful, aren't we, Sammy?" Megan asked, clearly looking for help from me.

"Absolutely, there are two beds in the room," I said, trying to sound serious, but losing it when I saw the bemused look on Sheila's face.

Fortunately, there was a burst of applause when the bride and groom made their appearance, looking dapper in their travel dress. They made the rounds to say goodnight to the remaining guests.

I took Megan's hand when the band leader announced the last dance. Charlie and Debra waved to us on their way out the door. Most of the guests followed to see them off, leaving only a few couples to finish the dance. I took Megan's hand and followed the crowd.

"We don't need to wave goodbye. We see them every day," I said, as I guided her into the elevator.

We stopped and looked at each other when we got inside the room, unable to believe our eyes. "I didn't know they were going to use my room to change clothes."

"Use it! They demolished it!" Megan exclaimed.

Debra's wedding dress was the only item of clothing that had been hung up. Everything else, Charlie's rented tux, his shoes and underwear, Debra's bra and panties, were strewn from the door to the bed. The bed Charlie had slept in the night before was disheveled, and looked the worse for wear.