McCarthy Residence
934 West End Avenue.
June 15, 2006.
10:15 am.
I'm sitting alone in one of the spare bedrooms in Dana's childhood home, where her parents still live. I'm only about four blocks from the apartment where I spent the early years of my life, with my mother. Something about that just feels strange. I should be sharing this day with her. Not the mother of my best friend and family.
I'm not going to upset myself today. Nope. Not happening. Today's the day. I'm getting married. And I'm not going to think about things that'll upset me.
At least there are people here, to celebrate this with me. At least I didn't sneak away with my older boyfriend and get married in a church somewhere in the middle of New Jersey, when I was sixteen, like we'd planned.
I hear a door open, downstairs. Footsteps on the old wooden floors. A bunch of male voices, all talking at once.
I get up and leave the room, emerging into the hallway. Dana and her mother were supposed to be up here with me, doing something with my hair, but they both got distracted.
I lean down over the railing, fully aware that I look like shit, dressed in sweats and a borrowed button-down of Elliot's, without a speck of makeup. My first instinct was right. My friend's younger brothers, the men I've known since childhood, have arrived.
I watch each of the McCarthy boys bend to hug their mother, from the top of the stairs. They vary in height and size - anywhere from a solid, muscular six-foot-two to a skinny five-foot-six. Their complexions vary, from a deep gold-brown, inherited from their Puerto Rican mother to a tanned white.
"Ma? Where's the bride-to-be hidin' out?" The second-oldest of the 'boys', Jimmy questions his mother.
"You lookin' for me?" I call down, grinning.
He looks up and grins back at me, white teeth flashing against his tan face. "Get your ass down here, you."
I make my way down the stairs, shaking my head. "I was coming down, anyway. Don't want you thinking I take orders from just anyone."
The rest of the guys start laughing, as Jimmy rolls his eyes at me and gives me a light punch on the shoulder, like a brother would.
"Ow," I complain, faking hurt and rubbing the spot he hit. "Take it easy on me, will you? I'm just a city girl."
"'City girl' my ass," the middle brother, Danny, cuts in, snorting. "You bounce his ass from here to Jersey and you know it."
The rest of the group nods in agreement and the oldest of them, Bobby, fixes me with serious black eyes. "You're gonna get married to some guy we don't even know. Why didn't we meet him, huh? We wouldn't've hurt him."
"Well, not much," Mike, the second-to-youngest adds, grinning at me. "We wouldn't've done any kinda permanent damage - we woulda left him in one piece for ya."
I roll my eyes and shake my head. "You guys are so damned full of it, you know that?"
"Dad and Dana tell us that, all the time," Paul, the 'baby' informs me and I laugh, quietly. "Ma - where is Dad?" He questions, turning to address his mother.
The mother of all of these men, slender, five-foot-three Maria McCarthy looks up at her son. "He's out. Having a word with the groom," she replies, the barest trace of a lilt that hasn't been erased by years of living in America in her words.
"Uh-oh," Bobby sighs and claps me on the shoulder, as he walks by. "You know, you might not be getting married, after all, if Dad's got something to say to this poor guy. He almost spilt Chris and Dana up, before they got married, 'cause he went and scared the hell outta Chris."
"Can it, Bobby, you jackass," Dana warns, coming into the hall from the kitchen, hands tucked deep into the pockets of her jeans.
Sensing a brother-sister fight on the way, Maria steps between her children, to intervene. "Stop. Take her to get dressed," she orders her daughter, firmly. "Bobby - your father wanted you to take a look at the tires on the car." As the mother of seven high-energy kids, she learned to hold her ground and not let them push her over, even with her small size.
Dana and I make our way back up the stairs and her daughter, my goddaughter, Amy has taken over the spare bed in the room.
"What Bobby said about Dad," Dana murmurs to me, as she sits me down in front of the mirror again, "ain't true. He went and had a talk with Chris, but he didn't scare him that badly. It's just Bobby being an asshole."
I roll my eyes. "How did I know that?"
"'Cause being an asshole is second nature for Bobby," she replies, as her mother enters the room again. My teenage goddaughter perches on the edge of the bed in the room, watching as her mother and grandmother work my hair into another style other than how I usually wear it.
When they're done, I have to blink to make sure I'm looking at me. Rather than just leaving my hair to fall around my face, like I normally do, they combed it back a little, giving it a new look. I look completely different. I look fine, without makeup, which is kind of a shock.
Dana unzips the bag containing the dress I bought for today. It took months for me to find one that I loved, instead of simply liked that I could afford. But it was worth it.
I didn't want anything too glittery or too showy. I wanted something elegant and simple. I didn't really want a dress that looked like something out of a fairytale.
She and her mother unzip the back of the dress, helping me to slip it over my head and making sure it falls right around my body. Old, work-worn hands tug at the zipper at the back, pulling it up, quickly.
I like the way it looks. It looks even better than it did when I tried it on the store. It doesn't have a train or a huge skirt. It's basically a white sheath, with spaghetti-thin straps over my shoulders. There's some beading at the front, embroidery at the hem of the skirt, but it's not overwhelming.
"Gloves?" Dana offers them to me. They're white, elbow-length. The ones that came with the dress.
I shake my head. "Do you think I let you drag me to get my nails done for nothing?"
She laughs. "C'mere. Veil's gotta go on. You gotta sit. I'm not tall enough."
I somehow manage to sit, arranging the dress around me. I wince, when a sharp pain bites into my scalp. "Ouch!" I complain.
"Sorry." She murmurs, hairpins of some kind in her teeth. She pins the tiara and veil to my head, keeping it back out of my face.
When that's done, she and her mother go to work on my face. They bicker over colors, without even consulting me. But I agreed to let them do this. So I don't think butting in would be wise.
When they're done, I blink again. The makeup's soft. Lighter than what I normally wear. It softens my face. I'm still not sure if I'm looking at me.
When I get up and turn around, I see Amy looking at me, startled. "Wow." She says, quietly, green eyes taking in my appearance.
"Ah. Hang on." Dana holds up my grandmother's string of pearls. I put them on, liking the way they sit on my neck. "Earrings?" She questions and I shake my head. I very rarely wear the old pearls, because I don't have earrings to go with them.
Maria disappears, briefly and comes back with a box. She opens it, showing me a pair of simple pearl studs. "These were a gift from Tony," she explains, naming her husband, as I bend and tilt my head to allow her to put them in for me.
"Ma!" One of the guys - I've never been able to tell their voices apart - calls from downstairs. "We've got company."
With that shout, I'm left alone in the room. I take a minute to step back and look at myself. Never thought I'd be looking at myself in a wedding dress. I've stood back and watched a friend look at herself in a mirror, after helping her get dressed for one of the most important days of her life. But I never though it would be me here.
I'm digging through bags and boxes, looking for my shoes when the cell phone that's in my purse rings. I blink. It's my wedding day. Why the hell is it ringing now?
I find it and flip it open. "Yeah?"
"Hey." His voice, on the line, softened with the tiniest hint of affection. "You didn't think you were gonna get called in, did you?"
I shake my head and laugh, quietly. "No. But it wouldn't have surprised me if I did."
"Nervous?" I hear the amusement in his voice.
"A little." I can admit it to him.
"You dressed yet?"
"Un-huh," I answer, finally finding my shoes. "What about you and the boys?" I question. He and his brothers and Dickie have taken over our apartment to use as their own dressing room. When the kids found out we were getting married, they all insisted on getting involved. Maureen's coming by with Kathleen and Lizzie, in a bit.
"Working on it," he answers. "Dickie - c'mere!" I hear him call to his son and then return to our conversation. "What about the girls?"
"They were gonna get dressed and then come over," I answer. "They should be here anytime."
"Okay, Liv. Love you." I hear jeers and jokes being directed at him, from his brothers, when he says that.
"Tell 'em to go to hell," I tell him, trying not to laugh. "Love you too."
"Guys - she says to tell you all to go to hell." I hear him inform his older brothers and they laugh, again. I hear a few scattered comments from them and then Elliot's voice, again. "So I'll see you in a little while?"
"Yeah. I'll see ya." We end the call and I slide my feet into my shoes, curious to see who the "company" is.
When I make my way down the stairs, I discover both Don and Dana's father, Tony McCarthy, waiting in the front hall. Knowing that I didn't have a father of my own, my friend's father took it on himself to try to fill some of the holes for me. The things that I was missing, as a kid. To give me a father figure when I needed one. I know I wouldn't have turned out as close to normal as I have, if it wasn't for my best friend's parents.
"You look beautiful, honey," Tony informs me, his voice thick with a Brooklyn accent that comes out in his daughter's voice, now and again. "Give an old man a hug, huh?"
I smile and oblige. He's a solid man. Dana inherited his stocky build. He's been a working man for most of his life, trying to support a growing family. I pull back and look into old dark eyes, set deep in a tanned face that's been marked by fire, on the left side.
"You did all right. He's a good man," Tony informs me, seriously, looking me straight in the eye, like he always has.
"Don?" I turn to my boss, unsure of what to do. He's never played favorites with me. I'm an officer under his command, on the clock. There have been times when he's been more like a father than a commanding officer.
He's always been careful not to make anything too obvious, though. Sending flowers to my apartment after my mother's death was a quiet gesture - one that wouldn't really be noticed, because everyone - friends, my co-workers, my mother's colleagues at the university - was sending me flowers. But I understood what it meant, in it's own way.
I don't know what I should do. Hug him or just stand back. The man's about to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day and he's my boss. Typical. Whenever I try to do anything, it always has to get complicated. Sometimes, I wish life would just be simple, for one day.
Making up my mind, I let him hug me, briefly, then look up, seeing a blonde head peeking around the open screen door.
"Hey, Maureen." I greet my oldest to-be-stepdaughter as she steps inside, her younger sisters close behind. I wasn't about to force them into horrible dresses that they hated, if they stood in my wedding, so I let them pick a color we could all agree on. The blue works perfectly and everyone seems to be happy with how they look.
"Olivia." She hugs me, quickly, smiling. "You look incredible."
I smile and Kathleen allows me to hug her briefly. I hear Maureen turn to Don and greet him, as Lizzie links her arm through mine. These kids are great. I wasn't so sure how they'd respond to me, but they didn't seem to mind. They didn't try to run me out of their father's life.
I introduce the girls to Dana and her family - her mother and brothers in the kitchen, her father in the living room.
We manage to get the flowers sorted out, so everyone has what they need. I'm still not convinced this is happening. That I'm going to wake up and be single all over again.
Dana's still playing with her daughter's fine dark hair, trying to get it pinned up, when I hear the familiar blip of a police siren from the street outside the house. The siren sounds again and I hear more cars pull up.
I trade looks with Don, as we stand in the house's cramped kitchen. He shrugs and runs a hand over his bald head - he's just as confused as I am.
The dress and the heels make it hard to move as quickly as I usually do, but when I get to the window at the front of the house, I see two marked cars parked in front of the sidewalk, lights flashing. The sirens wail and I turn around, looking at the faces around me.
Dana looks back at me, shaking her head. "It wasn't me," she promises, holding up her hands, innocently. "You've got Chris to blame for this one."
Her husband. He was supposed to be here, but he's a homicide detective with the same erratic schedule that I have. He got called in early this morning. I roll my eyes. "Someday, you two are gonna drive me crazy - if you haven't already done it," I comment.
She grins, broadly. "You know you love us, anyway." She slings her arm around my shoulders and laughs. "C'mon. Traffic's a nightmare and we'll get there on time with these guys."
"A nightmare isn't strong enough of a word," another male voice comments, this one with a strong Queens' accent, compared to the faint trace of a Brooklyn accent that Dana's brothers carry in their words.
I turn my head, seeing my best friend's husband step through the door. "I would've been here earlier," Chris Libretti informs me, bending to kiss his wife on the cheek, "but the bridges are both insane."
"You're here," I grin and hug him, briefly. "So the guys out front - that was your idea."
"Um-hm." He grins, flashing white teeth at me. He's not strikingly handsome - his face is plain, but the green eyes set above a small nose always catch a woman's attention. When I met him, I knew his quiet nature and natural sense of humor would work perfectly with my rookie paramedic's friends' high-energy craziness. "You look incredible," Chris informs me. "Every time I see you cleaned up, I wish I'd married you."
Dana kicks him sharply, extracting a yell of pain from her husband. "What the hell was that for?" He demands.
"Hitting on my best friend," she informs him. "You had your chance, about fifteen years ago, bud. So unless you wanna spend some serious time getting friendly with the couch, you better remember you married me."
"Okay, fine. Congratulations, Liv."
"Thanks," I shake my head, trying not to roll my eyes at the antics of the married couple who've been my friends for years. I sure as hell hope Elliot and I don't wind up like this.
"We ready to go?" Dana raises one eyebrow.
"I look okay?" Chris looks back at his wife. "I've got a change of clothes in the car . . . "
"You're fine," she tells him, briskly, tightening the knot in his tie again. He looks like the generic male cop in a dark suit and a pale shirt, but he looks fine.
"Fine. Let's go." Dana nods. "So we'll see you guys at the church!" She calls back, to her mother, father and brothers, who are just guests in today.
Don, Maureen and I squeeze into the back of one car, Kathleen, Lizzie and Dana in the other. Chris is following us, in his own car, with his daughter.
Sirens wail and we begin to move. Here we go.
I'm standing, nervously, in the church. I don't understand just why I'm nervous about this. It's no big deal. The guest list is small - Elliot's family, a few friends, John and Fin, and Casey, and most of my best friend's family, who in a way, were my family, when I was growing up. I didn't want a big wedding and he agreed with me.
"Breathe." Dana comes up behind me, grinning. "Hey, girls. This is our cue." She shifts the flowers into her hands, rolling her eyes at me. Growing up in a house full of boys, flowers and dresses are definitely not her thing.
As my maid of honor, she goes first. Followed by Maureen, Kathleen and her daughter, Amy. Lizzie follows, as the flower girl. It worried me, that at twelve, she might have thought she was too old to be a flower girl. But she didn't seem to mind.
Don comes up beside me. "Still breathing?" He questions and I shake my head, smiling.
I reach up and pull the veil over my face and he takes my arm as the first few strains of music reach our ears.
As I make my way down the aisle, I catch Elliot's stare as he stands just in front of his three older brothers and his son. I smile and he just keeps staring.
It feels like I've been walking for hours. When we finally reach the end of the aisle, Don gives me a quick, tight hug and moves away to sit in the pew where my parents would have sat.
But I don't remember anything after that. I just remember looking into blue eyes, the whole time. I vaguely remember saying the vows. Sliding the ring on his finger. But my focus is on him. I can't believe this is happening. I still don't think it's for real.
When Elliot reaches for me, and he leans in to kiss me, I know it's real. He's here. The group of friends and family that's been watching this whole thing starts to clap and I swear I hear a few cheers that sound like they belong to a certain group of perpetual pains-in-the-asses. But I don't care.
When we finally step out of the church, confetti starts flying. I'm grabbed by a few people for hugs. Here we are, back on the streets of Manhattan. Traffic's going by and no one seems to notice the fact that a wedding's just ended.
After the first few hugs are over, I notice one of the marked squad cars that brought me here. Someone's created a heart that screams "Just Married!" in red lettering. It's been attached to the back of the car.
I shake my head and Elliot grins. "C'mon." He kisses me again, and then, somehow, we manage to squeeze into the back. The officer sitting in the front seat grins at us. "Never been in the back of one of these, eh, Detectives?"
"Nope." I reply, reaching for Elliot's hand. He squeezes it and then lifts it up, to kiss it.
"Ah, damn. Not lovebirds." The uniformed man pretends to roll his eyes at us, jokingly and flips the siren to life.
The first place we stop is to take pictures, in the park. Then it's out to where we decided to hold the reception - a rented church hall in Queens.
I have the time to hug a few more people and talk to a few, before we cut the cake. Dana's father recommended a bakery from the neighborhood where he grew up. And it looks fantastic. A steady clinking starts to go up around the room and I look at Elliot. He shrugs and picks up a piece of cake, offering it to me. I take it from his fingers, taking a minute to chew and swallow before I do the same to him.
Then it's time for the traditional toss of the bouquet. There's a group of women and teenage girls behind me, as I toss the small bunch of flowers over one shoulder. When I turn around, I see my fifteen-year-old goddaughter has caught it, with reflexes born out of playing on her high school basketball team.
Amy blinks at me and I smile. "C'mere, you." I pull her in for a hug and let her to back to sit with her parents and grandparents.
The DJ calls Elliot and I onto the floor. Our first dance as a married couple.
"Liv?" He murmurs, looking me square in the eye as we move, together. He can dance, I realize, startled. I've met few men his age who actually dance.
"Hmm?"
"You're crying," he murmurs, taking his hand off my waist to brush it against my cheek.
I realize I am. And I promised myself I wasn't going to cry today.
"Happy?" His voice is soft in my ear, as I pull him closer, so I can lean against him.
"Um-hm."
"That's good." He tips my head up and pulls me in to kiss me. This is all that matters. Us. I'll dance with Don and probably most of the guys in the room tonight, but I don't think I'll remember.
Later on, as I sit to catch my breath, after having danced with four of Dana's brothers in a row, I see my best friend has left her husband's side and seems to be buried in heated debate with Munch. Oh, shit. This is bad. I have a feeling that it won't end.
"Dana's made Munch's acquaintance, huh?" Elliot comments, sitting beside me.
"Yep. Be prepared - I think this'll go on the whole night."
He grins. "You wanna dance again?"
"I'm trying to catch my breath here," I reply. "Maureen's all alone over there - why don't you guys go do the dad-daughter thing."
I watch his eyes flicker to his oldest, who's standing against the wall, alone. "Did you tell her to bring a date?"
"Um-hm. I told her she could," I answer, kicking off my shoes and shoving them under the chair I'm sitting on, temporarily.
I watch him grin, as I do that. "What? You wear heels this long and tell me your feet don't hurt."
He shakes his head, as Dickie approaches his oldest sister. Maureen grins and steps out onto the floor with him. "Looks like she's got a dance partner," I smile, slightly.
"What about me?" Elliot glances at me, blue eyes fixed on mine.
"You're not that cute," I inform him. "Not cute enough for me to put those damned shoes back on just yet."
"Who says you have to?"
I roll my eyes at him. "Fine. C'mon." I let him lead me out from the wall and onto the wooden floor.
"You never seemed interested in dancing when we'd go out," I point out, as he slips his arms around me.
"I thought I'd surprise you." He gives me that classic grin of his and kisses me again. "You happy now?"
"Um-hm. Very. But this whole bride thing - isn't that for the glowing twenty-something - not an almost-forty something cop?"
He laughs in my ear, quietly. "You looked like the glowing twenty-something today, Liv."
"That's why you were staring?"
"No. You were beautiful. But you were glowing."
"What am I gonna do with you?" I demand. "Next thing I know you're gonna be reading me poetry."
He laughs again. "Maybe." Elliot takes my hand and rubs a finger over the ring there. "Looks good there. Y'know, there should've always been a ring there. Someone should've made you happy a long time ago."
"How about you shut up and do it now?" I suggest, pointedly. There's no point in thinking about what happened before. Okay, so we're a little late getting to this, but we're going to be happy.