Second Isn't Much Better

My next opportunity to serve as a bridesmaid didn’t come until nearly three years later, when a close friend from high school announced her engagement to her life partner and very best friend. They were two peas in a pod. The happy couple met at the place where we all first met and became great friends: a mom n’ pop restaurant that was, for us, the catalyst to real life. It was where we all held our first jobs—the bride and I as waitresses and the bride’s fiancé as a busboy.

Harold’s Kitchen served as a backdrop to many fond memories and great first experiences, so it was no surprise when Allyson asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding. Like the first offer, I was ecstatic and honored—this time, even more so. For I was the only member of the wedding party that was not family. I beamed with pride at the thought that I would get to share my friend’s big day in such a special way.

As with most wedding parties, though, a complication quickly arose. By this point in my life, I was on my own and had landed a great job half-way across the country. Logistics would be difficult, but I would make it happen. Because the wedding was scheduled for early the next year, it meant I would forego Christmas with my family. Instead, I would use vacation time to fly home a few weeks into the New Year for the big bash. Before any of that could happen, though, the first point of business had to be addressed—dresses. Being that my friend had already chosen her gown with her mother at her side, the only thing left was my dress. At that same fateful bridal salon I had visited years previously, we found the perfect one: a chocolate brown, v-neck dress with that same satin sheen.

With the item number in hand, I flew back across the country, prepared to order the dress at a store near my home. As far as I knew, things were great. However, moments before stepping out the door to make the gown purchase, I called my friend to share with her the good news and catch up on wedding planning. As it turned out, a lot of planning had happened. So much so, that the date of the wedding had been moved up considerably. As for the wedding party, well, it no longer existed. The stress had simply been too much. Instead of having an all-out bash, Allyson had opted for a small wedding in her church, surrounded only by family.

This time, I could at least take solace in the fact that the news didn’t come in the form of public torment in front of my peers. But it was still hard to take. The scheduling change meant I would miss out on my friend’s most important day.