Battle of the Banns

By Sunday, we feel safe enough to leave them alone for an hour while we go pick up the Whitings at the airport. Kendra's passion has been reduced from a boil to a simmer, and Saturday night's dinner – T-minus 168 hours – was a model of Victorian decorum, with Dave and Kendra assiduously avoiding each other's touch. Now it was our turn to be frustrated, though. Val wasn't quite ready yet to tell Dave and Kendra about us, so she got the guest bedroom while I was once again sleeping on a couch. As we stand here at the airport, just outside the security entrance, in fact, I have come to the realization that we are now as eager to rid ourselves of Dave and Kendra as they are to rid themselves of us.

"Whoa, goddess at eleven o'clock."

Val draws my attention to the blonde striding just ahead of an attractive couple in their early fifties, her head scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

"Well, I wouldn't call her a goddess," I mumble.

"Right," Val says. "I think you're cute, too, sweetie. But she is gorgeous."

"Matt!"

The goddess waves her hand at us and breaks into a run. It is, of course, little Lucy Whiting.

I can almost see her running in slow motion, her long, blonde hair flying from side to side, her tanned California body on full display in the white shorts and blue polo short. But she hurtles into me at breakneck speed, and I'm forced to take a step backward and twirl her around as if she were greeting a returning soldier rather than her brother's college roommate.

I put her down on the ground, my hands on her hips, and she turns on the same radiant smile she'd had at age fourteen.

"It's good to see you, Lucy," I tell her with a smile of my own.

"God, it's great to see you, Mattie," she says.

She thrusts her hand at Val.

"Hi. Lucy Whiting."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "Lucy, this is Val Jones, the maid of honor."

"It's nice to meet you," Lucy says warmly.

"You, too."

Val's greeting is several degrees colder. By then, fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Whiting have caught up to their daughter, and I manage to introduce them to Valerie with a good deal more aplomb. Valerie is still largely silent on the way home, though, so I'm forced to take most of the conversation on myself. I have always gotten on very well with the Whitings, and between my updating them on my life, and their updating me on theirs, we pretty much manage to fill the entire ride home.

Dinner, however, does not go quite as well. There are a number of uncomfortable silences. Kendra is mad at Lucy, and by extension at Dave. Val, it turns out is not angry at Lucy, as I had thought, but at me. As if it were my fault that a beautiful blonde jumped on me in the airport. This time when I escape to do the dishes, I'm there by myself for a while, until Mrs. Whiting comes in, towing a reluctant Val behind her.

"Good," she says. "Now that I have you both here, I need to ask you something."

She looks back into the dining room to make sure that we can't be overheard.

"It's just that," she says before taking another look and dropping her voice to a whisper, "do you think everything is all right? I mean, David and Kendra don't seem to be touching each other at all. Watching them pass the salt it looked like they were afraid of catching some sort of disease. Did you see that?"

Val looks at me. Apparently, it's my turn to answer.

"They're very much in love, Mrs. Whiting," I assure her.

"As were Bob and I, and if we'd ever acted like that a week before our wedding both of our parents would have had us committed."

I nod.

"Probably just nerves then."

Val chimes in.

"Kendra comes from a very reserved family. A lot of old money. They just need to settle down a little."

Mrs. Whiting casts another worried glance toward the dining room, and finally gives a nod of her own.

"Okay," she says doubtfully. "I hope you guys are right. Excuse me, now."

"I'll come with you," Val says, turning her back on me and accompanying Mrs. Whiting.

After we finish dessert, the dinner goes from bad to worse. We adjourn to the living room, and Kendra pulls out her ubiquitous wedding planner (which has now grown to two volumes) to discuss the week's activities.

"On Tuesday, we'll split up. The guys will be playing golf – I made Daddy promise to give you lots of points or whatever – and the women will be shopping. Wednesday afternoon we'll all be at Mummy and Daddy's for tea, and then we're going to the club for dinner. Thursday will be lunch at my Aunt Mimi's –"

"I thought you're Aunt Mimi lives in Maine," Dave says.

"Of course," Kendra agrees with a smile. "But we have to see her before the wedding. She's giving us a very generous present, David, and she does so want to meet your family. Valerie and Matthew are excused from that, of course, because Thursday night is the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Which will end by ten.

"O'clock?" Lucy is not particularly good at keeping the surprise out of her voice.

Kendra gives her a dirty look.

"I'm sure that David wouldn't want to be away from me for much longer that close to our wedding,' she says, before adding quickly, "just as I couldn't stand to be away from him."

As Kendra goes on, Lucy looks over at me, and I give her a small shrug.

"Friday, of course is the rehearsal dinner, and then David and Matthew will be staying at a hotel near the church."

"So Monday is free?" Mrs. Whiting asks.

Kendra consults her list again.

"Yes," she says, somewhat surprised to find a blank that large.

"Good. I need to find a new dress."

Kendra's head snaps up so quickly it makes my neck hurt.

"A new what?"

"A dress," Mrs. Whiting says. "That peach one makes me look like a – well, like a peach."

Kendra sputters something about it's being much too late to start playing games with the wedding's color schemes.

"Oh, Kendra." Val is simply unable to resist. "We changed the bridesmaid dresses just last week. I'm sure that you and Mrs. Whiting and Lucy can find something appropriate tomorrow."

Kendra glares at her friend.

"Not me," Lucy says. "I've never been to Boston before, and I want to see something Bostonian."

Val raises an eyebrow.

"The Old North Church?"

"The what?" Lucy asks.

"The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. One if by land and two if by sea."

Lucy shakes her head.

"Actually, I'd like to see that," Mr. Whiting interrupts. "I've never been here before either."

"Perfect, Dad," Lucy says with a smile. "Valerie can take you there, and Matt can take me to – isn't there a famous baseball stadium here?"

"Fenway Park," Val asks, with even more skepticism.

"Fenway's Park," Lucy agrees. "Perfect."

"Lucy's high school boyfriend played baseball," Mrs. Whiting explains, "and now she's just infatuated with the sport."

"I don't have a car," I warn her.

She turns back to Val.

"There's a subway, right?"

"It's just off the green line. But I think they have a game tomorrow afternoon. Against the Yankees. So it's not like you're just going to be able to stroll around in there."

"Well, maybe we can get them to let us in a little early," Lucy says, displaying the attitude of a girl who probably has little trouble getting her way. "You up for it, Matt? Ten o'clock at the hotel?"

She's left me no good way to refuse. It's not a happy decision, particularly when, as everyone gets up to leave, Val pointedly lets me know that she's perfectly comfortable bringing the Whitings to their hotel tomorrow, and that she'll see me at some point tomorrow. Which means that she won't see me again tonight.

I pick Lucy up at her hotel the next morning for the half-hour trip to Fenway. I'm still very doubtful about her ability to get us inside. But when she marches up the "Will Call" window and gives them her name, I realize that this has all been pre-arranged.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?" I ask her as we find our way into the stadium to the seats for which she's been given tickets.

She gives me a beautiful smile, and then, as we come out of the tunnel into the sunlight, turns that smile onto the players.

"Bobby!" she shrieks, waving her hand.

Every player on the field looks up at the blonde in the white shorts and white T-shirt. And then the Red Sox turn and look at the guy stretching in the bullpen, the one turning almost the same color as his socks.

"A friend?" I ask when Lucy and I have claimed our seats.

"My fiancée," she smiles.

"You're engaged? Congratulations. Why didn't you say something yesterday?"

"'Cause I haven't told Mom or Dad yet. Remember that guy Mom said I had a crush on? That's Bobby. He just got called up from the minors this week."

"So why don't you want to tell your parents?"

"He just proposed last week, when I had a modeling job in North Carolina, where he happened to be playing."

"Is that how you take jobs?" I start laughing.

"Sometimes," she says, giving me arm a punch. "Shut up, Matt. Anyway, I don't want to make it look like I'm trying to steal Kendra's spotlight, so I'll wait until after the, uh, happy couple has left for the honeymoon. Although, actually, they do look pretty happy, you know? When I first met Kendra I thought I'd end up choking her. But they seem very good for each other now, don't they?"

"Yeah," I agree. "Although I can see why you don't want to cross her path right now."

"Exactly. So you have to promise, Matt, not to tell anyone. Not Dave, not your girlfriend, nobody."

"Alright. Um, what girlfriend?"

"Valerie isn't your girlfriend?"

"Well, yeah," I admit. "But how did you know? I mean, as soon as you showed up and jumped into my arms, she got all mad and stuff."

She looks at me for a second, and then bursts into laughter.

"Oh, honey, that's not what she's mad at. Well, maybe a little. But it wasn't until you introduced us."

"What did I do?"

She shakes her head, still laughing.

"Do you remember how you introduced her to us?"

"As the –"

Oh, shit.

"As the maid of honor," Lucy reminds me.

"Shit," I say aloud. "But she told me that she didn't want Kendra to find out, so I figured she wouldn't want me to tell anyone. Just like you."

"I think it's a little different there, Matt. I don't think my parents are going to shrieking 'Matt's got a girlfriend! Matt's got a girlfriend!'"

By then I was already thinking ahead.

"So I could just tell her that you're engaged.–"

"Absolutely not," Lucy interrupts. "You promised."

"But it would help me –"

Lucy's not going to let me finish any sentences.

"Apologizing would help you. Nobody finds out, Matthew."

We watch batting practice, and the game, in which her boyfriend pitches a scoreless eighth inning. I return to Dave and Kendra's apartment to find that the dress incident has been smoothed over. Kendra is happy, and Mrs. Whiting is happy, the wedding planner is apparently happy, and Dave is overjoyed. Mr. Whiting is back at the hotel, and Valerie is nowhere in sight. I call, and nobody picks up the phone. I call again that evening; still no answer.

Tuesday goes by without a Val sighting. She doesn't answer the door; she doesn't answer her messages. At least not the ones that I've left. I end up having to team up with golf with Mr. Whiting against the Andersons because Dave has a blister on his thumb (from dance lessons, of all things), and I take my frustrations out on them. At ten dollars a hole, Mr. Whiting and I net a hundred bucks. By then, of course, I've blown it all on cell phone calls to Val's machine.

Although as late as Sunday I could never have imagined myself saying this, I find myself looking forward to tea at the Andersons on Wednesday afternoon. Unfortunately, as we climb into Dave's car, Kendra explains that Val won't be able to make it; apparently she has just learned that her apartment building is being converted to condos.

At that point, tea becomes an agonizing event. It's not until I get to the club, and have a gin and tonic – two, maybe – in me, that I am finally able to leave a long, rambling message on Val's answering machine. Then it's back to the bar.

I manage to make it through dinner without disgracing myself, but Kendra and Dave have to help me into the elevator to get to their apartment.

And suddenly there she is, waiting for us in the hallway.

"Valerie," I say breathlessly, lurching forward and collapsing onto the floor.

I wake up the next morning with what is, without a doubt, the worst hangover I have ever had in my life. Valerie has coffee and bacon waiting for me. Kendra and Dave have left for Maine with the Whitings in tow. We are all alone, and I feel horrible.

"Did you mean it?" Val asks me softly after she has settled me into a chair at the breakfast table.

I have no earthly idea what she's talking about, but I know that there is only one correct answer.

And before I can give it to her, the phone rings, a sound that threatens to rend the still fabric of my present universe. Val answers it, and I hear a shriek from the phone. I know what's coming next, but my hands cannot obey in time, and they are still a foot away from my ears when Val replies with a shriek of her own.

"Janieeeeeeeee! Where are you, girlfriend? Right now? Okay, I'll come. See you in a bit, girl."

I have forgotten that Thursday's schedule called for the arrival of the rest of the wedding party: four bridesmaids and four groomsmen. All of them are flying to Boston for the big event and none of them have managed to select planes that land within forty-five minutes of each other. So the entire day is basically one long carousel ride between Logan Airport and the hotel where everyone is staying. My assignment is to be in the apartment to answer the phone, and then to relay the information to Val on her cell.

Which leaves us with no time together alone. By the time everyone is settled at the hotel, Dave and Kendra have returned from their excursion to Maine, and we're just about ready to leave for the bachelor party.

As a prelude, the groomsmen and I take Dave out to dinner first, to establish a base for our later drinking. We go beyond the base, of course, and arrive at the bar, where I've rented the private room, a little late and a little over-served. Except for me. Not only am I the master of ceremonies and the designated driver, but the very smell of alcohol tonight is enough to send my stomach into flips. The party is already in full swing when we arrive. Dave's local friends are already here, and in another thirty minutes Anna will make her appearance.

After twenty minutes, though, there is a knock on the door. It's one of the bar's bouncers, and when he asks who is "in charge" all of the fingers point to me. He beckons me out, and lets me know that the manager needs to speak with me.

"Were we too loud?" I ask. It's a bachelor party, for crying out loud. At a bar. What the hell could be wrong?

The first thing that's wrong is that the manager is standing there with Val. Another bouncer is standing off to one side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand of Valerie as I approach.

"Do you know each other?" the manager asks.

"We're the maid of honor and the –" Val begins.

"We're boyfriend and girlfriend," I interrupt, earning a big smile from Val, and an even more confused look from the manager. "But we're also the maid of honor and best man at a wedding this weekend. Who evidently booked the bachelor and bachelorette parties at the same bar."

"Yeah, well about that," the manager says, scratching his head. "Joey here found your two strippers doin' it in the back room."

"Anna?" I ask.

"And Rolf?" Val asks. "Well, good for him."

"Good for her," I insist. After all, it sounded like Rolf was quite a catch.

The manager is now looking at the two of us like we're lunatics.

"Yeah, well, bad for both of you. They wouldn't stop, so we kinda had to throw 'em both outta here, ya know?"

We turn to him in bewilderment.

"You couldn't just ask 'em to stop?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"Tried that."

"You couldn't just hose 'em down?" Val wonders.

"Tried it. Took both Joey and Frankie here to pull 'em apart. So, like, I'm sorry, kids, but you'll have to do without."

"But those girls want a stripper!" Val protests.

"Um, yeah," I chime in. "The guys, too. Although they'll be happy with the other thing."

"Is there a problem?"

"Kendra!" Val and I yelp in unison. She has apparently come out of her party to see what the problem is.

"Mattie!" Kendra says with a big smile. Kendra may have already had one too many as well. "Does this mean all the bachelors are here, waiting for their stripper?"

"No strippers," Val says.

"No strippers?" Kendra is pouting now. "What happened?"

"Apparently they misbehaved and got bounced."

"So what was the other thing that Mattie was talking about when I came over?"

The entire crowd – Val, Kendra, Joey, Frankie, and the manager – turns to look at me.

I hem. I haw.

And then Joey helps me out.

"Is this that tape you wanted me to play, boss?"

"At nine o'clock?" I ask him.

"Nine o'clock?" he asks. "I thought it was eight. Should be starting just about now."

"Shit!"

I run back to the room just in time to hear Jenny's voice come over the speakers in the party room. She was Dave's first girlfriend in college, a girl who now has a voice that actually seems to purr.

"Hi, Dave, this is Jenny; remember me? From freshman year. Your freshman year, actually. I was a junior, remember? The older woman."

Dave was staring at the ceiling, as if she were actually up there.

"Matt told me you were getting married this weekend, and I just wanted to tape this little greeting for your bachelor party. Hi, boys. Some of you probably remember me from school, right?"

There was a cheer from the groomsmen and a few other guests.

"Some of you better than others, huh, Brian?"

Brian Chambers, one of the groomsmen, was turning as red as a beet.

"For the rest of you, maybe I should tell you what I look like. And what I'm wearing. And what I'm not wearing."

The complete and utter silence that descends upon the room at that moment is broken by yet another knock on the door which precedes by only a few seconds the entrance of Kendra Anderson, followed by all of the girls from the bachelorette party.

My first thought was that Jenny ought to shut up. Jenny herself wasn't too bad, but the next girl, Rachel, was going to go into intimate detail about how well-endowed Dave was. And the last two, Linda and Ellen, were the ones making love.

Val stops me at the door, her eyes twinkling.

"Let it run," she says quietly.

"Seriously?"

"Kendra knows Dave wasn't a virgin."

It turns out to be excellent advice. Everyone enjoys teasing Dave, and by extension Kendra. And everyone stands there in rapt silence listening to Linda and Ellen. Until they start sitting, that is, both men and women crossing their legs to try to hide how aroused they've become.

The party, which by rule is entitled to last until ten, breaks up at nine, as all the men and women in the room start pairing off with each other and heading back to their respective hotels. Brian and Janie beg the use of Val's apartment.

Val is a little tipsy by then, having apparently realized that she no longer needed to take responsibility for getting the bride home. Dave and Kendra are wasted. So a little after nine, I manage to pour them all into Dave's car for the ride home.

"I still wanna stripper." Kendra is pouting in the seat directly in back of me.

"Mattie'll do it," Val pipes up from the seat next to her.

"He will not," I insist.

"And what about me?" Dave is sitting beside me.

"Oh, Val will strip for you," I say breezily. That'll teach her.

"And Matt'll strip for Kendra," Val exults. "Perfect."