Her Plus-One

I’ve never been in love, and if I never have a relationship, I’m OK with that. I’m not one of those women of a certain age who hates men or shuns traditional values. Our parents were married for more than four decades, and both of my sisters have been wed for years-one more successfully than the other. I’m just not the marrying kind, and I'm perfectly content to fly solo.

So when my friend Terri invited me to her summer wedding (her second marriage, by the way), I decided to accept the invitation, decline the “plus-one”, and support the woman who helped me through Psych seminar. What did I have to lose, other than a precious Saturday afternoon and the grand I would spend for a new dress and shoes I would probably never wear again, a hair appointment and a manicure, not to mention an exquisitely wrapped heartfelt selection from the gift registry of the happy couple? 

On the last Saturday in June, draped in my lime silk maxi wrap dress and cradled in my beige kitten heel sandals, I arrived at Terri’s parents home a mere 15 minutes before the ceremony, after spending too much time in the mirror taming my unruly curls into an updo to prevent a disaster in the afternoon humidity. As I was ushered into the house, I noticed my gift had arrived, its gold and silver wrap distinctive on the gift table near the patio entrance to the vast backyard. 

Wow, what a perfect spot, so understated and gorgeous. The chairs alternated between shades of teal and dusty rose, and the lush grass added to the bold palette. Bouquets of delicate pink blooms sat at the end of each row, bordered by a rose-gold runner, lined by a trail of petals on each side of the aisle. A gazebo adorned in hanging baskets of wildflowers and lilies faced the guests, and the officiant in a white robe stood under the awning, flanked by Terri’s fiance Andrew, handsome and smiling in his black suit accented with a teal tie. 

I was steps away from my seat in the next to last row when a tiny girl in a dusty rose dress appeared out of nowhere, her hair tied in matching ribbons to hold adorable pigtails, tear tracks on her chubby cheeks. 

She raised her arms in a “Pick me up” gesture, so I bent to her level. “I can’t find my mommy.” 

“Well, I’m sure she’s here somewhere, sweetheart? What’s your name?” I lowered my voice the way I did when I met young clients during their initial session. 

“I’m Rachel. I was inside, and I went to the bathroom, I couldn’t hold it anymore. but they were gone when I went back to where Aunt Terri was.” She couldn’t have been older than five, but she sounded older than her years. 

I glanced at the sliding door. The wedding party waited, ready to proceed.

“Are you a flower girl?”

My new friend shook her head. “I’m her sister, they said I was too little. I got lost, and missed the group picture.” She dissolved into fat tears. 

I gathered up Rachel. One of Terri’s aunts appeared, in a light blue midi dress. 

“There you are, Rach.” She reached for Rachel, who nestled herself tighter in the crook of my neck.

“I wanna stay with her, Aunt Tammy. She’s nice.” 

I tried a gentle handoff, but Rachel refused to budge. “Sweetie, I think there’s a seat for you with your family. I’m just one of Aunt Terri’s friends. You can call me Genni.”

“That’s a pretty name. My sister’s name is Jennifer.”

“Well, my name is kinda like that. My full name is Genevieve.”

Rachel lifted her head and smiled. “I like that one even better.”

I shrugged. “Is it OK if we sit? I hate to hold them up if they’re ready.”

Aunt Tammy nodded and patted my arm. “I’ll come get her as soon as it’s over.”

I carried Rachel to the row where my buddies watched, tiptoeing over  them to my seat.

“Looks like you’ve made a new friend.” Laura said, seated beside me in a mauve suit, her auburn hair in soft waves.

“It seems so, how are y’all?”

“Flying solo like you tonight, left our hubbies and kiddos at home, so we can party after it’s over,” Samantha said in a loud whisper, two seats over. Her dress was a few shades darker than mine, and she looked ethereal, her raven hair in an elegant over one shoulder style. 

Now that Terri was marrying, I was the only unwed one left in our circle, though they’d all bet once I would marry first. Sure, I dated a few guys when we were in grad school, leading to a semi-serious relationship for a few years, until Michael got married one summer he’d gone back home. Of course, he and his bride had grown up together, and Sammi had been the one to let me know what she heard before his letter arrived, a “Dear Jen” kiss off that left me shattered for months. Maybe I really loved Michael, but that was so long ago…

The music began, a lovely piece I’d heard at another wedding a few years ago, and we turned to watch the line of attendants. 

“I don’t see my sister yet,” Rachel said, sitting up on my lap now, her hands folded, the perfect picture of little girl poise. 

“She’ll be out in a few minutes, sweetie. These are your auntie’s bridesmaids.”

“Well, I wished they’d hurry up.” Rachel’s words drew a chorus of soft laughs from the onlookers in front of us.

I hugged Rachel, and she leaned against my chest. I’d forgotten how soft and sweet little girls can be, having become the designated sitter for the tween boys of my younger sisters. I was accustomed to their roughhousing and video game sessions, with demands of pizza rolls and other obscenely unhealthy snacks they didn’t get at home. I loved my nephews, and I think they enjoyed our time together, watching football games and movies with ice cream floats and my homemade chocolate cowboy cookies, but for some reason, Rachel made me miss what I’d probably never have.

I looked up from smoothing Rachel’s skirt to realize that I just missed Terri’s mother, resplendent in a silver gown, being seated by an usher. Terri had a small wedding party, and I eyed Rachel’s older sister, who was really a taller version of her, dangling a basket as she waited behind the trio in rose-gold dresses. I feared Rachel might make a run for it when she saw her sister, so I whispered, “Stay here when you see Jennifer, OK, baby? Maybe you'll be a flower girl, one day, you never know.” I hugged Rachel again, in what I hoped was a tight, reassuring embrace.

And then she asked, “Well, can I be your flower girl when you get married, Genni?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I ever will have my own wedding, Rachel.”

She shifted on my lap to look me in the eye. “You’re so pretty and nice. Don’t you want to be a mommy?”

Wow, this kid sure knew how to bring a woman to her knees. I kissed her forehead before Terri, a vision in her ivory gown accompanied by her father, materialized behind us. “Yeah Rachel, I guess I do.”