Becky's Bridal

Erin began to question the wisdom of this trip. It was a three hour drive to Westford, but three of her friends had sworn she could find the best dresses and the best deals. She had said they would leave at seven, had confirmed it twice yesterday. And yet here it was, seven thirty in the morning, and Erin was standing in the kitchen of Jessie’s apartment, cooling her heels while her sisters peeled themselves out of bed and slowly nursed their hangovers.

It wasn’t going to work. She would never find her dress. Her sisters hadn’t taken her seriously when she suggested the trip. Pam had actually laughed, her smooth blond head thrown back, her shouts bouncing off the ceiling of their mother’s living room. Erin had to plead with them to give her a day, just one day, for this activity which they had thought could be crammed into an hour’s visit to the mall.

Erin watched Jessie take a deep drag from an American Spirit and considered calling it off. “Um, Jess?” she began plaintively. “I think this wedding is destined for disaster.”

Jessie smiled reassuringly from her spot at the kitchen counter and ran her free hand through her short, spiky hair. “It’s OK, Erin. We’ll make good time and find you the dress you dream about before lunch.”

“Lunch?” Erin thought about the hours and days she spent watching her friend Maureen try on gown after gown, searching for the perfect cut, the perfect train, the perfect shade of white.
“Sure,” Jessie shrugged. “It’s one dress. How long can it take?”

Erin nodded as Pam walked into the kitchen, her hair wet from the shower, and shrugged on a leather jacket over an oversized men’s button down.

“So, we going?” Pam asked. “Can we stop for coffee?”

Erin tapped her manicured fingers on the steering wheel while they waited in line at the Dunkin Drive Thru. Why were there so many people up before 8am on Saturday? Erin had a panicky thought that maybe they were all getting coffee before their very own personal road trips to Becky’s Bridal Boutique.

Jessie leafed through her collection of CD’s. “God, Erin, have you actually bought anything in the past ten years?” Erin knew better than to answer, because she wasn’t sure she had. The music Jessie finally put on was loud with a Thump-Thump beat and lyrics Erin didn’t even want to try and understand.

In the backseat, Pam lit her own cigarette before passing a second up to Jessie. Erin tried not to let her irritation show. They could have asked if they could smoke in her car. But she needed them today, so she bit her tongue and cracked the window. Instead of the smoke rushing out, the cold December air rushed in.