A/N: "The truth about weddings…" is a short passage stolen from Jen Sincero's Don't Sleep With Your Drummer.
Grissom was gone when Sara woke up the next morning. Or rather, afternoon. According to the clock on the bedside table, it was nearly noon.
"Shit!" exclaimed Sara. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!"
She scrambled out of the bed and noticed all of Grissom's thing were gone—suitcases, toiletries, clothes. He wasn't just gone, he'd left!
Sara was heartbroken. He didn't even say good-bye! Didn't wake her up to tell her he was leaving! She felt betrayed and cheap, like a hooker stuck with the hotel bill.
"Just one more reason to hate him," she said aloud, gathering up the now-rumpled pink dress.
She managed to sneak downstairs in her bra and panties, clutching the dress to her body. The house felt hollow, empty, and Sara was sure most if not all of the guests had checked out.
The family wing seemed like a long way away from the bottom of the staircase. What if she was seen? How would she explain?
Deciding to risk it. She made a mad dash across the hall and skidded into the living room. Empty. Out of the large storybook window, Sara spotted her parents, but, thankfully, they didn't spot her. They were sitting in their lounge chairs on the deck, backs to the room; her mother on the cordless phone (probably gabbing with one of her sisters long-distance about the wedding) and her father was immersed in the newspaper.
Sighing with relief, Sara slipped unnoticed into the family wing and closed the double doors behind her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and blood pounded in her ears. She quickly went back to her own bedroom, where her knees went week and she let herself fall to the floor.
I had sex with Grissom. I had sex with Grissom. Why does that sound…wrong? She thought to herself as she slipped into clean underwear, a pair of fresh jeans and a camo-print baby tee. Her plan was to join her parents on the porch and act like nothing was wrong and she wasn't having a nervous-breakdown-morning-after scenario. Or that she didn't have sex with Grissom last night.
Sara went into the bathroom to scour off the makeup residue with a hot washcloth and a harsh exfoliating facial scrub before strolling casually onto the deck. Eavan was talking with a sister, while Phil was checking up on the want ads. A red marker was clutched between his teeth like a dog offering his master a stick and Sara saw he was circling ads about used lawn mowers. Again he was wearing only a pair of cutoff jeans and his silver peace sign glinted in the afternoon sun.
"…insisted on red velvet cake, but Cecilia put her foot down," Eavan was saying. She acknowledged Sara with a smile and a nod. She wore a lightweight dress the color of tea and over her gray eyes were a pair of John Lennon sunglasses with pink lenses. "I know! I know, it's just not appropriate for a wedding, so they went with chocolate and raspberry crème instead. Hang on, Una, Sunshine just woke up." Eavan covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "Sunshine, it's Aunt Una, do you want to talk to her, say hi?"
Sara made a face and shook her head. Her aunt Una, who was one year older than her mother, was too much of a gossipmonger for her taste. She had four children and two grandsons and always had the holy trinity ready to dispense at Sara: "When are you going to get married?" "When are you going to have kids?" and the ever-popular "Are you still at that forensics job?".
Eavan shrugged and continued to speak with her sister, "Of course, Polly insisted on pink for the bridesmaids…"
"Don't you love how she's running up my phone bill?" Phil said sarcastically as he circled his third ad. "Blah-de-blah-de-blah. Gag me." Phil himself had a brother and two sisters that were all still in California. But his wife's eleven siblings scattered all over the country, plus one in Hawaii and one in Ireland. It seemed like they never got off the phone. He pushed a large ceramic bowl of fruit towards Sara, who laughed as she took an tangerine from the bowl and began to peel the skin in one long skein.
"Shut up, you dumb old hippie," Eavan snapped playfully. "No, Una, I wasn't talking to you!"
Phil peaked from behind his paper and made faces at his wife, who ignored them but fought giggles herself.
"Una, I'm going to have to call you back," Eavan replied. "No, no, I'm not trying to get you off the phone. Sunshine's here, she's leaving today. Of course she came! Wiley made her a bridesmaid. What? She doesn't want—okay, okay. Sunshine," Eavan covered the mouthpiece again and rolled her eyes, "Una needs to talk to you."
"Does she?" Sara mimicked her mother's tone of voice. "Fine. She's probably having heart palpitations all the way up in Oregon."
"I heard that!" Una exclaimed once Sara had the phone to her ear.
"Hello, Aunt Una."
"Well, well, well. Look who crawled out of the Las Vegas shithole," spat Una. Sara hadn't talked to Una since four years ago when Sara hadn't attended her cousin Robby's wedding. "Are you still in Las Vegas?"
There was one. "Yes, I am. How are you?" Sara feigned cheerfulness.
"Oh, I'm just fine. How are you? Married yet?"
There was two. "No, not yet, Aunt Una. Haven't found the right guy yet. I'm always at work, you know."
"Ah, well…you have a lot of catching up to do. Robby and Jenna just had little Colin, of course; and Erica and Noah's Nathaniel will be four next month. Wiley just got married for the fourth time and he's got four daughters. You know, you really ought to have a baby, Sunshine. It might help you grow up a bit…"
Ah, there was the third one. "Yeah right. Right after I vacuum the living room in pearls and call myself Donna Reed."
"Don't be sarcastic. Men don't like that in their women."
One man I know does. "I have to go, Aunt Una. I…I'm getting something on my pager, it's from my boss. Here's my mom again. Bye!" Sara shoved the phone into Eavan's hands quickly.
"I told you, Una. Okay. Okay, yes, I'll tell Bridgie next time I talk to her," Eavan rolled her eyes. Sara knew what this look was for: Eavan was constantly the referee between her sisters Ua and Bridgie, who had an outstanding feud going on eight years. "I'll email you that recipe as soon as I can. Good-bye." Eavan pressed the off button so hard Sara heard her finger crack. She plopped the phone into her lap and reached into the fruit bowl for a strawberry. "Ah, it's nice to relax now that it's all over. I forgot how tiring weddings could be."
"Only when you put too much emphasis on it. The truth about weddings is a wedding is a wedding. No matter how much cash you put into decorating, getting a great band, serving interesting food…you'll always feel like you're just at another wedding. Just save it for the damn honeymoon," Phil said. "See, our wedding was planned in one week."
"We also had no money," his wife reminded him. "We were saving up for this place."
"Money or no money, I bet our wedding would have turned out the same."
Sara sat cross-legged on the deck between her parents' lawn chairs and propped up her head in her hands. She loved to hear about their wedding, ever since she was a little girl.
"Right on the beach before the tide came in at sundown," sighed Eavan, plucking the bitter green leaves from the top of another strawberry. "I wore a white dress I'd made myself and the hippie over here wore his bathing suit."
"I most certainly did not! I wore jeans," Phil corrected.
"Well, excuse me. The groom wore jeans. And our friend Celeste did the ceremony. Our best friends Willow and Dennis were the maid of honor and best man. We had maybe a dozen or so guests. After the ceremony we had a bonfire and ate food we cooked ourselves. We all wore flowers in our hair and whatever clothes we wanted, no silly dresses."
"I'm glad I wasn't the only one who thought those dresses were silly," Sara said.
Phil chuckled, "Pepto-Bismol pink."
"Did I say that aloud?" Sara asked.
"Didn't have to. It was written on your forehead." That was her father's way of saying her face said it all.
"When I get back to Vegas, I'm gonna have a bonfire for that thing," joked Sara.
"Oh, don't be cruel," Eavan chastised over Phil's laugher. "You never know when you're going to need a dress like that again."
"Yeah, you're right. But Halloween's not for a few more months," Sara remarked, which sent Phil into howling laughter again.
"What am I going to do with you two?" Eavan shook her head.
"So I guess I missed the great chaos of checkout?" asked Sara once Phil's laughter had died down.
"Oh, yeah, long time ago," Eavan said. "Polly and Wiley are on their way to Fiji right now; Cecilia's on her way back to Seattle. Elizabeth should be back in Georgia shortly and Sophie and Megan are home already. Veronica picked up Kirya early, something about beauty boot camp. Your Mr. Grissom was the very last to leave, Sunshine."
Sara choked on her tangerine. "Really?"
"Yup," Phil said. "He wanted to wait for you to wake up but it got too late and he had to get back to Vegas."
"Oh…"
"He told me to tell you to come in late tomorrow, though."
"Which means you don't have to go rushing off!" Eavan said brightly. "Stay for dinner, Sunshine."
"It might be too late," Sara said, in a far-off place. "Besides, don't you have some guests coming?"
"Only three or four," Eavan replied, stroking her daughter's arm affectionately, "and not until late tonight or tomorrow morning. Why don't you stay? I'll make that veggie lasagna you love."
Oh, did her mom know how to push the right buttons! Perhaps Wiley had learned some of his charm from his stepmother. "If I stay I'll have to leave right after dinner."
"Of course," Phil nodded.
"Then I guess I'll stay," Sara said with a smile.
"Good," Eavan returned the grin. "That's wonderful."