When Marty got married I was one of her bridesmaids. I was thirteen. But of course I looked eighteen since I had started developing a woman's body in third grade. But I still had a thirteen year old's mentality and emotional maturity. It got tested often, but the worst time was the first time I met my mom's other kid's father at Marty's wedding reception.
I had already started crying while standing in the church lobby with the other friends and relatives in the wedding party waiting for our music cue to walk down the aisle. As soon as my sister Hazel, also a bridesmaid, saw tears rolling down my cheeks, she smiled and grabbed my hand. "You'll do fine." She whispered in my ear.
She thought I was nervous about standing in front of a big crowd. Since I was released from therapy and started eating again, my quirks revealed themselves in other ways, but the root of it all was wanting to control my environment. As a younger child, I had been a social butterfly, singer, dancer and totally rad roller skater. When we moved to Overland Park, I spent my entire summer days before seventh grade, while Mom and Dad were at work, holed up in my room, refusing to leave my bedroom except to dash into the bathroom only when I couldn't hold it any longer. At the time I never put it together, but of course: I had developed agoraphobia. Just like Grandma Ruthanne. But as a young teen, I certainly didn't want to admit I had the same disorder as my crazy grandmother.
My mom told people I was shy. I told people I was shy, but they usually had to ask me to repeat it and speak up. But it was more than shyness that was bringing the tears before Marty's wedding ceremony. At first I felt embarrassed and they came out even faster. But when Hazel held my hand they turned into a trickle. I felt stupid. Why was I crying? All the others in the wedding party, all grownups, smiled at me or handed me a Kleenex. They didn't look nervous. I wasn't even sure if I was nervous or not. I felt sad. That was it. I was losing my sister. There would never be another day when she'd pick me up in her arms and snuggle with me in bed. There would never be another day when she and her friends would tape record funny things they made me say when I was first learning how to speak. She wasn't just going to college or on a long trip. She was marrying her true love. He would be her family now.
I got through the ceremony quietly without drawing attention away from the beautiful bride walking down the aisle with her big brother Walt. Marty had a hard time decided which "father" to have walk her down the aisle. Her biological dad who had mostly been absent from her life since she was six? Her step-father who ignored her and was ill-suited for suit wearing and big social events? So there he was, our big brother Walt, proudly walking Marty down the aisle. The guy who says his trick to being a good man is "to think what would my father do and do the exact opposite."
I don't remember seeing Walter Sr., their dad, at the ceremony. But I was forced to meet him at the reception. Ruthanne's agoraphobia and social anxiety was for herself only. She had no qualms about shoving another person into an awkward social situation. I had been sitting at a table with Mom and Dad, eating cake and nuts and those chewy mints I love and drinking punch. Grandma Ruthanne came over and told me to wipe the punch mustache from my upper lip. I did. Then she said, "I have someone I want you to meet."
I looked at Mom to see if she knew what Grandma Ruthanne was talking about. She shrugged and frowned. "Who?" I asked.
"Don't question me!" Ruthanne grabbed my wrist and forced me out of the seat. "Stand up straight and close your mouth. You look like a mouth breather."
I looked at Mom, whose head was turned and I couldn't see her expression, but she sat still, no doubt wondering when she could get home and read her mystery novel or work on her latest craft. To her side was my dad, stuffing his face with appetizers, not even looking up from his plate.
Grandma Ruthanne lead me right through the middle of the dance floor. I was afraid everyone was looking at me. First I couldn't breath. I couldn't even cry. Then I felt like air was coming in but I was having trouble blowing it back out. We stopped in front of a nice looking man in a suit that looked like someone had made it just for him. Not like the sports jacket my dad was wearing that was really intended for someone about five inches taller than he is.
"Walter Kessler, I'd like you to meet Joanne's youngest daughter, Sydney." She looked at my hand, then gave me a stern look.
I reached out and shook Walter's extended hand. "Hey." I mumbled and looked at the pink plastic shoes we had died to match my fancy dress. I felt like someone else had entered my body and I was just observing.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sydney." He bowed so he could look me in the face. "You look just like your mother when I first met her." He stood up and smiled at Ruthanne.
"You didn't meet my mom until she was fifteen. I'm only thirteen." I had no problems correcting him. He meant nothing to me.
"Only, thirteen! I see. Wow." He took a drink of something clear that made him make a face like his mouth burned after he swallowed it. His eyes moved up and to the right. There was nothing he was looking at. He was sort of smiling. He refocused on Ruthanne and me, smiled and said with a laugh as he looked at my chest, "Your mother was an early developer too."
I shook off Ruthanne's hand, which had been clenched onto my wrist since she pulled me away from Mom and Dad. I ran. Through people. I didn't know where I was going. I found the end of a hallway and sat in the corner and tried to pretend no one could see me.
Hazel and my Aunt Lois, my dad's sister who let Marty stay with her family to finish her senior year so she wouldn't have to transfer high schools when we moved to Kansas City, were above me almost immediately. Each one tugged my arms and got me up. "Come on, hon, let's get you to the bathroom." I couldn't see through my sweaty and tear plastered hair, but I recognized my Aunt Lois's voice.
Once in the bathroom, just the three of us, I stopped crying and blew my nose enough that I was fairly audible as I explained to them what happened with Ruthanne and Walter Sr. and me. They both took turns hugging me. Aunt Lois, a professional beautician pulled a hair brush out of her bag and fixed my hair. Hazel blotted my tears and re-applied my make up so I could come out of the bathroom eventually without looking like a wild creature.
After about ten minutes I had calmed down. I was ready to leave the bathroom. Aunt Lois said, "Let's take a walk outside" which I felt was the perfect idea. Hazel went back to tell mom what was going on so I wouldn't have to go over it again and again.
Aunt Lois and I walked around the parking lot. It was a warm summer night, but not as muggy as Mom said they were predicting. It felt good to be focusing on the atmosphere of our big planet and not the atmosphere inside the hall. Aunt Lois explained to me that when mom got a job at her beauty shop, they became friends. Mom had recently gotten divorced and was having a hard time finding a decent single man who wanted someone with four small children.
Then Aunt Lois's brother Calvin had a classic midlife crisis and left his wife Sally and twelve year old daughter Cally to find something else. He asked Aunt Lois if she knew of any nice single women who were interested in dating and she said, "I know one of the nicest people you'll ever meet."
I told Aunt Lois I wish she hadn't introduced my parents. Her jaw dropped but her eyes were smiling as she pretended to be shocked. "Remember, Dearie," Aunt Lois said as she gently draped her arm around my shoulder, "that even though those two don't seem like a good match now, look at who they made." She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me up and down. "They made you. They were meant to make you. I am so proud that I had something to do with bringing you into this world." She hugged me and I started crying again. This time tears of joy.
As we walked into the hall with Lois' arm around my shoulder I felt better. She had to leave though, since she had to get up early and do a bunch of old ladies' hairdos before church first thing in the morning. She walked me over to my mom and dad's table. Dad was watching the dance floor and had an annoyed look on his face. He hated any music produced after 1949. Mom patted my hand when I sat down next to her. "He's a jerk." Mom said, "I'm sorry, Syd." She tugged a Kleenex out of her purse and handed it to me. I declined so she wiped a tear from her own eye.
Just then Walt the brother and not the asshole namesake approached the table. "Sydney, come with me," He said and held out his hand.
"I'm not meeting anyone else!" I crossed my arms across my chest.
"I don't want you to meet anyone else." His hand was still extended. His eyes were bloodshot and he was smiling like he was having a great time. I looked out on the dance floor and saw Marty and Dan, Marty's best friend and Hazel dancing away. Everyone was smiling and laughing as I sat and stewed in my teen angst.
"I'm not going to dance with you." I smiled. He smiled too.
"Just come on." He leaned over and whispered, "You don't want to be stuck at Calvin's table all night do you?"
I jumped up and followed Walt to the champagne fountain. He took a clean empty glass, filled it about a fourth of the way and handed it to me. I must have given him a snotty look because he crunched his face and said, "What?"
"I'm only 13." Why did I have to keep reminding people of this fact?
"So what. If we were in Europe you'd be drinkin it." He set the glass on the table next to me, kissed me on the forehead and sauntered away. I picked up the glass and went to a table in the corner. I sat there for a long time just watching everyone coming and going, dancing and drinking, laughing and wiping their eyes.
I took a sip. Oh, it's bubbly. It's like a tart Sprite. I drank some more. Hmm. This is pretty good. I finished the bottle, sat there and people watched. I wanted some more.
I approached the champagne fountain and no one was around. Like anyone in my family would care anyway, but I wouldn't want someone on Dan's side of the family worrying about me. I filled up the second cup. And the third. And the fourth.
I had such a good time after that. I could hardly remember what it was I was so upset about earlier in the night.
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