face was heavy with moisture. Nervous flocks of house sparrows pecked at the sand and salt pebbles along the edges of the sidewalks.
The bus to the courthouse was overheated with stale, claustrophobic air, but the ride was mercifully short. I phoned Sebastian from the front steps and reminded him to meet me at the church. Getting the application involved navigating a maze of government offices and prying information out of overworked and underpaid bureaucrats. Even though the whole affair took less than a half hour, it seemed to last forever. I felt drained by the time I found myself waiting for the bus to take me to the church. I checked my watch. Either the bus was late, or I’d just missed it. I phoned Sebastian and told him just to get started with the minister and that I’d be there as soon as I could. He offered to pick me up, but I was sure the bus was coming any minute. He snorted. “I sure hope someone buys you a car as a wedding present. If you’re not careful, it’s going to be me.”
“How’d it go?” I asked him. “Did you find out whether Parrish turned Teréza or not?” I stepped out into the street to see if I could see the bus.
I heard Sebastian sigh. “No one is talking, but the less people say, the more suspicious I am.”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” he said. “Anything.”
“Would you call the coven about tonight? Maybe pick up some munchies and beer so we can have a bit of a party?” After all the hassle at the courthouse, I really wanted to have some fun.
“Leave it to me, darling.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He must have heard the tension leave my body slightly, because he added, “Look, why don’t you go back to the store. I can handle this program thing on my own. I know how it’s all supposed to go. We’ve talked about all the readings and hymns a million times. Besides, if I’m unsure of anything, I can always give you a ring.”
I chewed on my lip. I wasn’t sure whether it would make me more or less stressed not to be there. Sebastian was right, though. We’d gone over the events of the day a thousand times. “Yeah, okay,” I said. “I haven’t had lunch yet.”
I left the bus stop and considered the options for places that might have decent vegetarian fare. As I settled into a window booth at a Chipotle, I watched the bus roll by. Ah, well. Munching on a burrito full of beans and rice and all the works, I pulled a pen from my jacket. On a napkin, I started trying to salvage my upcoming wedding plans. I reconstructed my timeline of all the people I needed to check in with—catering staff, bartenders, ushers, church musicians, outfitters—and a baker for that damn cake!—anyone I could think of, and I started a list of ways to fix what had already gone wrong. When I left the restaurant, I was feeling pretty confident that I had things in hand. I was going to get through this. That, of course, is when my mother called. She was in tears.
“It has to be your grandmother’s dress,” she sobbed. “It just wouldn’t be right if you didn’t have your grandmother’s dress. I’ve always dreamed of seeing my baby in the dress I wore. My little baby girl,” she sniffed. Oh great Goddess. I’d had no idea. Never in my life had she ever told me about this dress. I ’d seen her wedding photos, of course, but she’d never made a big deal of it then. “Mom? Where are you? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I want you to wear the dress.” She was hysterical. It sounded like she’d been holding on to this emotion for the past few days, and it was all finally bursting out. “Say you’ll wear the dress!”
“I’m on my way over to your hotel, okay?” My folks were staying at the Concourse, which was just off State Street, only a few blocks from my work. I said good-bye, told her I loved her, and hung up. I started booking for the bus. Just what I didn’t need: a Mom meltdown!
The black-and-white photo was grainy, and it was dif ficult
The bus to the courthouse was overheated with stale, claustrophobic air, but the ride was mercifully short. I phoned Sebastian from the front steps and reminded him to meet me at the church. Getting the application involved navigating a maze of government offices and prying information out of overworked and underpaid bureaucrats. Even though the whole affair took less than a half hour, it seemed to last forever. I felt drained by the time I found myself waiting for the bus to take me to the church. I checked my watch. Either the bus was late, or I’d just missed it. I phoned Sebastian and told him just to get started with the minister and that I’d be there as soon as I could. He offered to pick me up, but I was sure the bus was coming any minute. He snorted. “I sure hope someone buys you a car as a wedding present. If you’re not careful, it’s going to be me.”
“How’d it go?” I asked him. “Did you find out whether Parrish turned Teréza or not?” I stepped out into the street to see if I could see the bus.
I heard Sebastian sigh. “No one is talking, but the less people say, the more suspicious I am.”
“Could you do me a favor?”
“Of course,” he said. “Anything.”
“Would you call the coven about tonight? Maybe pick up some munchies and beer so we can have a bit of a party?” After all the hassle at the courthouse, I really wanted to have some fun.
“Leave it to me, darling.”
“Thanks,” I said.
He must have heard the tension leave my body slightly, because he added, “Look, why don’t you go back to the store. I can handle this program thing on my own. I know how it’s all supposed to go. We’ve talked about all the readings and hymns a million times. Besides, if I’m unsure of anything, I can always give you a ring.”
I chewed on my lip. I wasn’t sure whether it would make me more or less stressed not to be there. Sebastian was right, though. We’d gone over the events of the day a thousand times. “Yeah, okay,” I said. “I haven’t had lunch yet.”
I left the bus stop and considered the options for places that might have decent vegetarian fare. As I settled into a window booth at a Chipotle, I watched the bus roll by. Ah, well. Munching on a burrito full of beans and rice and all the works, I pulled a pen from my jacket. On a napkin, I started trying to salvage my upcoming wedding plans. I reconstructed my timeline of all the people I needed to check in with—catering staff, bartenders, ushers, church musicians, outfitters—and a baker for that damn cake!—anyone I could think of, and I started a list of ways to fix what had already gone wrong. When I left the restaurant, I was feeling pretty confident that I had things in hand. I was going to get through this. That, of course, is when my mother called. She was in tears.
“It has to be your grandmother’s dress,” she sobbed. “It just wouldn’t be right if you didn’t have your grandmother’s dress. I’ve always dreamed of seeing my baby in the dress I wore. My little baby girl,” she sniffed. Oh great Goddess. I’d had no idea. Never in my life had she ever told me about this dress. I ’d seen her wedding photos, of course, but she’d never made a big deal of it then. “Mom? Where are you? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I want you to wear the dress.” She was hysterical. It sounded like she’d been holding on to this emotion for the past few days, and it was all finally bursting out. “Say you’ll wear the dress!”
“I’m on my way over to your hotel, okay?” My folks were staying at the Concourse, which was just off State Street, only a few blocks from my work. I said good-bye, told her I loved her, and hung up. I started booking for the bus. Just what I didn’t need: a Mom meltdown!
The black-and-white photo was grainy, and it was dif ficult
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