Jill Knapp

You’ll Find Me in Manhattan


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with the champagne bottle came back to fill up my mother’s glass. She slowly sat back down on the plush couch and crossed her legs. “I’m not sure how that will look, but by all means try it on. We haven’t anything better to do today.” She checked her Movado watch and then looked back up at me.

      I pressed my mouth into a tight-lipped smile, growing more impatient with her callousness. “Oh, if I’m keeping you, Mother, please don’t feel obligated to stay.” Before I could gauge her reaction, Amalia grabbed the long train of the sparkle disaster I was still wearing and motioned for me to follow her into the dressing room.

      Once we were alone, I let out a small grunt. This was supposed to be a wonderful moment, and my mother was nearly ruining it.

      “You’re mom’s kind of a handful,” Amalia muttered with wide eyes. Her phone buzzed in her jean pocket, but she ignored it.

      “Do you need to get that?” I answered as she helped me out of the first dress. I took a step back and admired the perfect gown I was about to try on and allowed myself to do a little dance in my bra and underwear.

      Amalia laughed. “Nice moves. But you should save it for your honeymoon. And, no, I don’t need to get it, it’s probably Michael. He knows I’m with you, maid-of-honor duties and all. I’m having dinner with him later.”

      “So this is really happening, then?” I asked as I held my arms over my head so she could help me into the dress. “You and Michael are officially dating?”

      Amalia stood on the tiny stool in the dressing room and helped pull the gown over my head, after which she motioned for me to turn around so she could get started on the exuberant amount of buttons.

      “Leave it the girl in the wedding gown to ask me if Michael and I were really happening!” she rolled her eyes. “I think your wedding is a much bigger deal than me and Michael going out to dinner.”

      “It’s a big deal!” I teased. “While I may be getting married at the age of twenty-five, I still find the idea of you and Michael having a genuine relationship more shocking.”

      “Well, don’t die of shock just yet,” she started. “We were taking things very slowly the past few months. Only seeing each other once a week, if that. Now we are up to twice a week, so it’s a bit of an improvement. We didn’t want to dive right into anything, especially after the heartbreak I put Hayden through.”

      I nodded, holding the top of the dress up in my hands as she continued to button. “You mean, after you literally ran away from him?”

      “Yeah, I’d prefer not to relive that brief act of insanity,” she looked down at the floor for a moment, her eyes threatening to tear. I wondered if any part of her still had feelings for Hayden. Or if she possibly loved him and just couldn’t admit it to herself. I put a hand on her shoulder and she shook her head while offering me a small laugh. She smoothed out her black, cable-knit sweater and held her head up higher. “Anyway, won’t you be twenty-six by the time you tie the knot? That’s not too young. Plenty of people get married when they’re even younger than that. Just not here in New York.”

      “I guess not,” I shrugged. “I wonder what it’s like out there in the real world.” I tried to imagine getting married in my home town in Rhode Island, and how different it would be. I would most likely be having an outdoor wedding, not in a five-star hotel.

      “You mean outside of New York?” she raised an eyebrow.

      “Yeah,” I played with my hair, twisting it around in my fingers. “I’ll bet it’s so much easier.”

      “What’s easier?” she chuckled while cocking her head to the side.

      “Everything,” I mumbled. I let go of my hair and let out a sigh. “It’s too bad I love living here too much to ever find out. I wouldn’t even consider applying for doctoral programs outside of a thirty-mile radius.”

      Amalia nodded and then diverted her eyes to the ceiling. She offered me a small smile. I could tell she wanted me to be happier. I was standing in a bridal boutique surrounded by champagne and wedding gowns. But my mother’s presence weighed on me too much to truly enjoy the moment.

      “But back to Michael,” she began with a heavy breath. “More than enough time has passed and he and I are ready to give this a real shot. Which means our first nice dinner together tonight at Café Grazie,” I could hear the smile in her voice without even turning around. “Now I just have to figure out what to wear.”

      The more I thought about the idea of her and Michael dating, the more I disliked it. I knew I had to be a good friend and keep my mouth shut. Especially if I wanted her to continue helping me with my wedding-planning. Coyly, I kept the conversation about him going to hide my disdain.

      “Oh, well maybe we can find you something here! I’m envisioning something in the magenta family,” I shot her a look.

      “That’s a great idea!” she answered, with mock enthusiasm. “But no tacky bridesmaid dress. I’m going to go all-out! When he shows up, I’ll just open the door to my apartment in a wedding gown.” She cleared her throat and then starting talking in a robotic voice. “Michael, marry me. Beep.”

      “And then I will officially know two people who have literally run away from their significant other,” I shook my head.

      “Three if you count yourself, Miss NYU alumni mixer.”

      “Wow, you’re right,” I twisted my neck around to look at her. “What’s wrong with us?”

      “Living in New York City has ensorcelled us into becoming detached automatons all the while sundering us from the life we used to live. In short, we no longer act like normal people,” she uttered flatly.

      “Amen to that.” I could feel Amalia on my back, struggling with each button. I made a mental note to leave a lot of extra time to put on this dress on the day of the wedding. She was taking forever and I was getting anxious. There were no mirrors in the dressing room, so I had no idea how I looked until I was able to step outside.

      “Finished!” Amalia announced. “Turn around. Let me get a look at you.”

      I slowly turned around and let out a sound that sounded somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “So?” I smoothed the dress down over my legs, “How does it look?”

      “Immaculate,” she said softly. “Alex is going to love it.” She pulled me in for a hug and whispered in my ear, “Olivia, listen to me. Don’t let your mother ruin this for you. You only get to do this once. If you’re lucky, at least.” She backed away, still holding onto my shoulders, and smiled warmly.

      I felt tears threaten to pour out behind my eyes. She really was a great friend and here I was bashing the guy she liked, in my mind.

      “Okay, missy. Now let’s get out there so you can see how incredible you look.”

      The gown’s train was short enough that I didn’t need her to hold it behind me. I made my way out of the dressing room and walked into the main room with the podium. I carefully slid on the two-inch heels I had brought with me, to get an idea of how the dress would look with my wedding shoes on, and the nice brunette sales associate, whose name-tag read Jenna, offered me a veil. It was elegant with just a touch of lace. No glitter of any kind. I bent down so she could fasten it to my hair.

      I took a deep breath and finally turned around to face the mirrors. I hardly recognized myself as I brought my hands to cover my mouth. The whiteness of the sheer veil created a deep contrast with my brown hair. The dress fit like a dream. Apart from the length, it would hardly need any alteration at all. My eyes welled with tears and I allowed myself to envision walking down the aisle, holding a bouquet of deep- pink peonies, my father on my arm, as I slowly made my way to Alex, who always looked amazing.

      I gently held onto the bottom of my dress and turned to face my mother, who was looking at me disapprovingly. I braced myself for what she was about to say. “What do you think, Mom?” I asked in a small voice.