The Hate Vow by Nicole French

Thirty-Two

“Jane! Look over here, honey. No, not directly at the camera. Just over my shoulder. Yes, that’s right.”

I turned obediently, following the instructions of one of the three photographers who had been assigned to follow the bridal party around all day while we prepared for the big event. It wasn’t exactly the most relaxing process in the world.

My mother sat in the corner, studying her nails, which she had actually manicured for the day. It wasn’t something she typically did, considering that she spent most of her time with her fingers immersed in acetone. For the wedding, she wanted to look her best, though all morning she had been doing everything she could to remain a wallflower. Out of fear or spite, I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I cared anymore.

The thought of my dad jabbed my heart. The more I thought about it, the more I was mad at him too. He was a wonderful father to me, but both of them had engaged in this deception. They were both liars. They both should have told me.

Then what would you have done, Jane Brain? This doesn’t change anything about who I am to you.

“Jane, don’t you dare move,” Frederick ordered as he stood back to apply yet another layer of hairspray. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the voice in my head and the cacophony around me.

The conflicting directions were just the start of the morning’s chaos. Murphy’s Law appeared to be in full effect this fine Sunday morning.

First, one of the heels on my shoes broke, so one of Gemma’s assistants was sent to open Bendel’s at seven in the morning to locate an extra pair of white pumps that would match the white of my dress. It took two trips to satisfy my wedding planner. Jenny, Skylar’s daughter, then misplaced the basket of rose petals she was supposed to carry, sending Gemma into a tizzy and her other assistants all over town trying to find a new one that would meet Celeste’s requirement of tasteful, yet moneyed. Whatever that meant.

On top of that, my cousin, Suejean, ended up getting food poisoning from some bad nuts she purchased yesterday in Central Park, so she was married to her toilet, leaving me without a fourth bridesmaid. And, according to Celeste, having four attendants with five groomsmen simply wouldn’t do.

“Found someone!” Nina announced as she entered the suite that had been designated as ground zero for wedding preparations. “And, as it happens, she’s exactly your cousin’s size, Jane.”

I turned from my seat at the vanity to see Caitlyn Calvert following my future cousin into the suite along with another woman carrying a small brown bag.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Skylar muttered under her breath while she turned Frozen on for Jenny as we finished getting ready.

“Oh, not Debbie Downer,” Cherie rejoined from her place on a settee.

“‘Let it go,’” I sang in my best, partly tone-deaf Elsa impression. Skylar chuckled, and Jenny grinned.

“Jane!” Caitlyn delivered a pair of air kisses to me, pushing past Frederick and the makeup artists like they weren’t even there.

I grimaced in her cloud of Chanel No. 5. “Hi, Caitlyn. Thanks for coming.”

“So lucky I happened to stop by to see N, isn’t it?” she asked with far too much enthusiasm. “Saving your big day! You’ll owe me, won’t you?”

It was meant to be a joke, but I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose a little with distaste.

“Of course, we don’t know if I’ll really be able to fit into her dress exactly. I did see your cousin at the rehearsal dinner, of course, and to be frank, she could probably use a few barre classes or so.”

“Suejean is a neonatal surgeon,” I replied dryly as I closed my eyes to have shadow applied. “Doing squats isn’t really high on her list of priorities since she’s usually busy saving babies.”

“Happy, ladies! We’re looking happy, darlings!” cried the photographer.

Caitlyn just flipped my comment away with a delicate hand and examined herself in the mirror behind me. “Well, you know the real secret is just doing them whenever you get a spare moment. I got Nina to start doing them when she brushed her teeth at night, and by last summer, she had a bikini body for the first time in years!”

“What’s a bikini body, Mommy?” asked Jenny as she turned from the TV.

“It’s a body with a bikini on it,” Skylar replied drily.

“Do I have one?”

“Not unless you’re wearing a bikini. Just pay attention to Frozen, babe.” Skylar glared at Caitlyn, who was now observing my dress obliviously.

“Lord, this child,” Cherie muttered under her breath before taking a long drink of champagne.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Caitlyn said as I followed suit.

I lowered my glass and looked up so the makeup artist could finish applying my mascara. “Pray tell, why not?”

She tapped her nose. “Don’t want to be red in the face in front of the cameras, do we? I saw you at your bachelorette party, Jane. One drink, and you turn into Bozo the clown! We don’t want that, especially since you fixed your hair.” She broke into giggles, as if the idea of me with a red nose was the funniest thing in the world. She turned back to the window. “So this is the dress, I suppose?”

As Emily, the makeup artist, finished putting the final touches on my cheeks, I looked over at the long white confection hanging from the window dressings. It was the last thing I would put on. “Well, yeah. I don’t normally walk around dressed like the ghost of weddings past.”

“You’re good,” Emily said as she pulled back the blush. “You look great, Jane. And the dress is perfect.”

Caitlyn cackled. “Oh my goodness, you are just the sweetest. Well, it’s nice. Very…nice. Did you sew it yourself? You’re very brave.”

Skylar practically growled from where she and Cherie were zipping each other up into their blush bridesmaid dresses. “It’s a custom Jenny Packham, Caitlyn. Couture. They flew it to London to be redone especially for her.”

“Did they really?” Caitlyn fingered the end of the sleeve. I fought the urge to swat her hand away. “I suppose when things are last minute, beggars can’t be choosers, can they. When life gives you lemons, right? You are doing amazing things with what they gave you, Jane.”

I just stared. “Wow. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” Caitlyn grinned like she hadn’t just given me back-to-back underhanded insults. “Now, where is my dress? I brought my seamstress to help fix it.”

I opened my mouth to tell her where she could shove her seamstress, but decided to keep my thoughts to myself. After all, she was doing me a favor. Without her, we would be one bridesmaid short, and Celeste, given her frail state, probably couldn’t handle the horror.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Nina, can you show her where the dresses are?”

They walked out into the next room, leaving me, Skylar, and Cherie to finish getting dressed.

“Two more shots,” said the photographer. “Just…like…that.” A flurry of clicks sounded as he took his last photographs of me looking at myself in the mirror.

“Darling, you look incredible,” Frederick remarked as he floated his hands around my head. Today’s accent was closer to Cornish, if anything. “If I do say so myself. Some of my finest work.”

It was hard not to feel a little smug. I did look amazing.

“You do look beautiful, Jane,” said my mother in a small voice from the corner, where she had been watching the interactions with Caitlyn sharply.

I turned, the smugness dying.

“Thanks, Eomma,” I said quietly.

She stood and brushed her hands down her muted navy dress. To Celeste’s utter irritation, Yu Na had refused the services of any of the stylists employed for the weekend, stubbornly preferring to wear her own clothes to the ceremony and reception. I was glad, almost proud of her for it. My mother refused to be anyone she was not, refused to be made up like a doll.

Like you are now?

That independence was a characteristic we had once shared, I thought with some regret as I looked over my carefully coiffed body. I reached up and touched the back of my head where the red stripe was. It was supposed to show during the ceremony. Wasn’t it?

“Jen, go with Auntie Cherie, okay? Daddy’s waiting for you downstairs with the other groomsmen and Luis. We’re going to get started soon,” Skylar said, breaking the silence. “Jane, I’m going with them to make sure everything is settled, and then I’ll help you into your dress, okay?”

She ushered the others into the next room, where Caitlyn and Nina were waiting in their bridesmaid dresses too. The styling team, photographers, and the seamstress followed them out. Eventually I stood there, alone.

I shivered, examining myself in the mirror. I was still only clad in a satin dressing gown that Celeste had insisted on as part of a proper trousseau. I didn’t even know people still had those. With my face done up and the simple diamond earrings she lent me dripping from my ears, I looked the picture of a polished, nervous bride.

Oh, God. Could I really do this?

There was a knock at the door.

“Jane?”

I turned at the sound of the familiar deep voice, then practically skipped over to the door, which I opened a crack.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, immediately putting myself on the other side of it when I fully realized who it was. “No, don’t come in! It’s bad luck!”

“You don’t really believe in that sort of thing, do you, pretty girl?”

I smiled. No, I didn’t. But on the other hand, so much had gone wrong today.

“What is it?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be on your way to the church. Your grandmother is going to keel over if things don’t start on time.”

There was a chuckle, but instead of Eric answering, a small, folded piece of paper appeared by the edge of the door.

“I know we decided not to do our own vows,” Eric said. “But I wanted you to have something anyway.”

I took it, unfolding the paper slowly. It was ripped on one side, like it had been torn from a book. “What is this?”

“Read it,” Eric said. “It’s not much…but it was in my head. I wrote it for you. Something to think about with this bullshit pomp and circumstance.”

I squinted at the uneven scrawl. I sort of loved his handwriting, actually. For all his polish and poise, Eric’s letters were absolute chicken scratch. The one part of him that was as messy as I was.

Vow

Pretty girl. Woman. Siren. Fiend.

She with her

Lipseyescheekshairlegspussyskinshouldersarmsbreaststhighsback

But more than that her

Mindgazehumorsmartstonguewordstalentkindnesscandor

Makes me

Crazydevotedfrustratedsated

Inloveinlustinheatintrustin

All you are, Jane, all yours.

This is my

Hate vow

Sex vow

Love vow

My vow is that

Forever

Always

I belong to you.

I touched the words, muddled and messy. This wasn’t a neat sonnet, like the ones he sometimes read me, but its chaos fit the emotions that so often overtook me—us—when we were together.

“I love it,” I said. “Eric…I…” I turned to the door, suddenly desperate to see him. Look into those eyes and see for sure that this wasn’t a dream or an act.

“I love you, Jane,” he said solemnly, like it was an oath, not just a statement.

His hand appeared at the door, reaching out, begging for me to take it. So I did, and he squeezed, tight enough that I wouldn’t forget.

So I squeezed back. “I know, Petri dish.” I said, imagining the look of mock outrage mixed with humor all over his handsome face. “And I love you too. Now get to the church so I can tell you to your face.”

* * *

“Okay,”Skylar said about fifteen minutes later when she returned to the room. “Everyone is off to the church. There is a car waiting downstairs for you. We just need to get you into your dress, and off we go. I’ll carry your train.”

I nodded, standing from the bed and taking down the dress. “Let’s do this.”

Skylar helped awkwardly as I stepped into the gown. I looked at myself in the mirror while she zipped it up from the back, staring at a woman I barely recognized.

My glasses were gone, replaced by contacts for the big day. Gone was the thick black eye makeup I generally preferred, the bright red lips, the black clothes, the chunky boots. I looked like a stock model, a picture out of Vogue Bride. Demure. Poised. Maybe even a little faceless.

“Wait,” I said. “I need something from my purse.” I beckoned toward it, scared to move in my pristine dress.

Skylar retrieved the purse, and I pulled a tissue, some lipliner, and tube of lipstick out of my makeup bag.

“Ah, your signature color,” Skylar remarked as I wiped away the tepid rose Emily had applied. “Of course. It’s not really you without it.”

I smacked my lips in the mirror. “Damn straight.” I started drawing on the liner while Skylar watched, absorbed.

“I still miss you doing my makeup for me in college,” she sighed. “Every time I try to use liner, I look like a clown.”

“Brandon likes you natural anyway,” I said. “Any time you wear a skirt, he barely notices your face.”

“Hey! I resent that!”

I grinned cheekily and continued applying the lipstick. But just as I was finished drawing on the familiar red shade, the other door to the suite opened, and the voices of Nina and Caitlyn entered the hotel room.

“I think she’s already left, Cait,” Nina said. “We really need to go if we’re going to be on time. Grandmother detests people who are late.”

“I know I left my phone here somewhere,” Caitlyn replied. “It’s just…shoot, where is it? Help me look, N.”

Skylar and I rolled our eyes at each other while the other women looked around. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to beg another dressing down from Caitlyn.

“I still feel like I should tell her,” Caitlyn said as they moved around. “Isn’t it sort of the same thing as walking around with spinach in your teeth? The nice thing to do is to say something, isn’t it?”

“I suppose…”

“I feel sorry for her otherwise. If I had something on my shirt, I’d want to know. And if my fiancé slept with someone else, I’d want to know that too.”

There was some murmured response that I couldn’t quite make out.

“Jane,” Skylar whispered, but I gestured for her to remain quiet. I wanted to hear the rest of this fucking conversation. That is, if they were going to continue it.

“Well, it was so long ago, though,” Nina said. “Five years. I doubt it really matters now.”

“True,” Caitlyn said. “I wish I’d never left Boston after that night. Maybe then he would have asked me to help with this ridiculous charade instead of an Alexa Chung wannabe with bad hair.”

There was a long sigh. “It certainly would have made things easier for everyone. Grandmother hates that red stripe, even if she came around to her.”

There was a harsh giggle. “Do you know I purchased the worst set of lingerie for that night, N? Penny told me once that Eric liked things a little racy sometimes—sorry, I know he’s your cousin, but you don’t care, do you? All those years, and he never thought of me as more than a friend. So, I figured what would be less Park Avenue than cheap red panties, right?” Caitlyn scoffed. “Looks like he wanted that sort of thing permanently. Well, he’ll tire of her soon enough. They always do.”

Red panties. Boston. Five years. My skin iced over, a sudden tundra thin enough to crack. Skylar’s big green eyes flew open.

“Ah ha! Found it!” Caitlyn crowed. “Okay, Nina, we can go. Relax, why don’t you.”

Their footsteps clipped out of the room, and the door slammed shut, echoing for a few seconds in their wake.

“Oh, Janey,” Skylar started. “Do you…do you want me to call Eric?”

Her voice was scared. She knew what this meant. She knew what this meant to me. She also had no idea what I was going to do.

All my fears about Eric, his past, my past, came flying back. But they settled around one fundamental fact:

He lied.

Do you have any secrets?I asked him. Anything you haven’t told me? Anything I should know?

I closed my eyes, willing the volcano that was exploding in my chest to calm. Down.

“No,” I said in a voice I didn’t completely recognize. “It’s time to go.”