Tapestry of Fortunes A Novel - By Elizabeth Berg Page 0,73
arrive, and I wait for her for a while, then decide to go up to Michael’s room. The door is closed, and I knock softly. It is opened by Phoebe, and what I see in the room behind her takes my breath away. There are long pieces of sheer white fabric tacked up on the walls, which makes for a softening effect, an ethereal effect, and there are candles everywhere. It’s a cliché by now, an overabundance of candles, but here it just seems right. They are white candles, all the same size, and they are all lit already, though the ceremony is twenty-five minutes away. Phoebe puts her finger to her lips: I can see that, behind her, Michael is sleeping. She points to the hallway and I follow her out there.
“I’m so glad you came,” she says. In the light of the hallway, I can see better the simple but very pretty long dress she is wearing, white lace, sleeveless; and she has flowers in her hair. My eyes fill with tears and she takes my arm and says, “Don’t cry, or I will,” and I get hold of myself immediately.
“How are you?” Phoebe says, and I say, “How are you?”
She takes a big breath in, shakes her head, and smiles. “There’s so much.”
I say nothing, wait.
“I … Did you hear that I’m pregnant?”
“Yes, Annie told me. I hope that was okay.”
“It’s fine. I love that I’m pregnant. I’m so happy I’m pregnant. It’s something Michael and I had agreed upon, that we’d use artificial insemination; he donated sperm before he started his treatment, we did all the paperwork and signed all the forms so we’d be all set whenever we decided the time was right. And I went for the appointment we’d made two days after we came apart. I couldn’t reach Michael to see if it was still okay with him; he wouldn’t talk to me. So I just did it on my own. I figured I’d give it one try, and if it worked, it was meant to be.”
“How is he?” I ask.
She looks over at me. “Maybe a week. When he’s awake, we talk. It means everything. When I kept trying to see him, it was because I wanted him to know about the baby, yes, but mostly I just wanted to talk to him. Talking to Michael has always felt to me like … like being held. I knew as soon as I met him that he was the one for me. I knew it right away. And so did he. We moved in together two weeks after we met. Everyone said we shouldn’t, but I’m so glad we did.”
She looks at her watch. “It’s almost time. Would you go and see if the minister is there? I just want a minute alone.”
“Of course.” I go into Michael’s room and find both the minister and Annie with him. Michael looks like he has just woken up.
“Hey,” he says, smiling. “You want to be my best man?”
“Absolutely.”
I stand by Michael’s side and I watch his face as Phoebe comes in, watch him as the minister says the few brief things he has to say: True love’s fullness is not bound or measured by time; we are here to bear witness to an occasion of joy, et cetera, et cetera. I watch Michael slide a thin gold band onto Phoebe’s finger and watch her slide a matching band onto his. It’s too big for him, I can tell, but it will stay on. I stand back as Phoebe gently kisses his mouth, then his cheek, then his forehead, then his mouth again, weeping, smiling, and then I look away because I can’t look anymore, it’s like staring into the sun.
IN THE MORNING, THE MAIL ARRIVES EARLY. I REACH INTO THE box and find another postcard from Dennis. This one, still postmarked Paris but with no date, says:
Late flight out of Paris in a few days. Can’t quite imagine what it will be like to see you again. Not for lack of trying.
I read the message again. Flight to where? Cleveland? Minneapolis? When the phone rings, I answer excitedly. It couldn’t be him yet, could it?
“What are you doing?” Joni asks.
So it’s not him saying, “I’m at the airport; come and get me.”
“Making breakfast.”
“We just had breakfast—at a spa! It was a such a beautiful breakfast I photographed it. Lemon ricotta pancakes, very light, with blackberries and strawberries and boysenberry syrup and edible flowers, too.”