Sharyn McCrumb - Sick Of Shadows

The first book in the Elizabeth MacPherson series, 1984

Dr. & Mrs. Robert Gray Chandler request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Eileen Amanda to Mr. Michael Satisky on Saturday, the nineteenth of June at one oclock in the afternoon at the home of the bride Long Meadow Farm Route One Chandler Grove, Georgia

May 31

Dear Bill,

Thank you very much for the graduation present. It was the only I.O.U. I received and I shall treasure it always.

No, I havent decided what I want to do yet. There isnt much you can do with a liberal arts major these days. Mothers bridge club keeps asking me when Im going to get married, so they have a pretty firm grasp of the situation at least. It seems careless of me to have broken up with Austin in my senior year. Now I have to think up something to do! I have given myself until the end of the summer to decide.

How are things with you? Is Tax Law 307 still putting you to sleep? Your new roommate Milo sounds interesting. Do archeologists make much money? What does he look like?

You may have noticed the enclosed invitation to Cousin Eileens wedding. I enclosed it partly at Mothers insistence and partly as proof of martyrdom.

They want me to be a bridesmaid. Well, I dont suppose want is exactly the right way to put it. I expect Im a necessary evil: the poor cousin drafted in lieu of friends, because of course Eileen hasnt got friends-unless she made some at Cherry Hill; and Aunt Amanda would never let this affair degenerate into a reunion of mental patients. Though of course it will be anyway, with all those Chandlers present. I myself will probably have to be taken away after a week of their collective presence. I never saw why they had to send her away, did you? All Chandlers considered, they could have just cordoned off the place and sent in ten nurses. Did you know that Aunt Amanda still refers to Cherry Hill as a finishing school?

The real purpose of this letter is to appeal to your better nature (assuming you have one) to persuade you to accompany me to this blessed event. I do not want to suffer alone. In fact, I feel that since you are older than I, you should be the one sacrificed (firstborn son, and all that), but then I can see that youd make a terrible bridesmaid.

I know already that you are either going to ignore this letter or write back some tripe about your law courses keeping you too busy to go. Well, I will give you forty-eight hours to answer, and then Im writing Aunt Amanda that we will be delighted to come to dear Eileens wedding.

Your atavistic sister,

Elizabeth

June 2

Dear Bill,

I was kidding about the forty-eight hours. You did not have to send a Mailgram. Anyway, since I am your sister, I am not likely to believe that you have to go to your grandmothers funeral.

Please thank Milo for the description of himself, but tell him I didnt find it very enlightening. I am not thrilled by the fact that he has a cranial capacity of 1,350 cc, a foramen magnum facing directly down, and a pyramidal-shaped mastoid process. Does he still leave bones scattered on the kitchen table? You two deserve each other.

Mother is worried about your dietary habits. She wanted me to ask if you are eating anything green and leafy. (Dad looked up from the newspaper and said: Money.)

By the way, I most certainly will not give your message to Eileen. I looked up Hamlet, Act III-Scene I, lines 63-64: Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. Most unfunny. Aunt Amanda still hasnt forgiven you for referring to Eileens release from Cherry Hill as her coming-out party.

I am going alone to the wedding-hereafter to be referred to as The Ordeal. Mother was willing to go, but Dad said hed rather be staked out on an anthill. So Im going by bus. If you had gone, we could have driven down.

I hope your law books fall on you.

Elizabeth

June 2

Dear Aunt Amanda,

We are delighted to hear about Eileens wedding. Thank you for inviting me to be a bridesmaid. Ill be happy to accept, but Im afraid Im the only MacPherson who can come.

Dad and Mother had already arranged to go to a sales convention in Columbia, and Bill is simply prostrate with grief that he cant make it, but he has tests that week in law school.

Ill be arriving on Wednesday afternoon about two-thirty at the bus station in Chandler Grove.

Looking forward to seeing you all again,

Elizabeth

P.S. I think you will have to alter that bridesmaids dress. I did not, as you predicted, grow up to be a size sixteen.

THE CHANDLER GROVE bus station was a dingy yellow waiting room whose openings and closings were probably dictated by TV Guide. Flies hovered lazily about the torn screen door, some drifting over to the faded drink machine, whose dents testified to its dubious honesty. Near the counter was a rack of travel pamphlets that Elizabeth might well have to read if someone did not turn up soon to claim her. She picked up the least dusty brochure (Florida, of course) and sat down in the plastic chair to wait.

She decided that she would be disappointed if the first circle of hell were not a bus station waiting room where you waited forever for people you didnt like who werent going to come for you anyway.

Her blue suitcase rested within inches of her foot, in case the crazed felon Aunt Amanda always swore inhabited bus stations should dash through the room and snatch it on the run. If he did, she hoped the dress would fit him-and if he would consent to take her place at The Ordeal, he was welcome to it.

She glanced at the suitcase, imagining the permanent wrinkles it was grinding in the yellow bridesmaids dress. Yellow. Aunt Amanda had either remembered or surmised that Elizabeth looked ghastly in yellow. No, more likely she hadnt given it a thought. The Chandlers would scarcely consider the country cousin in their choice of wedding colors for dear Eileen.

So here I am, thought Elizabeth, the sacrificial lamb of the MacPherson Clan, shunted down to Chandler Grove and decked out in malarial yellow to see Eileen married off to Whats-His-Name.

At least it would be a distraction. Anything would be better than the postpartum depression of having received a degree in sociology and no job prospects. Her father wanted her to go to graduate school, but she couldnt face that decision just yet. It felt too much like postponing life. She stared at the rack of travel brochures-there was always the Peace Corps. Reconciling with Austin out of sheer panic suddenly seemed dangerously easy.

After all, Austin was well on his way to becoming an architect. He would soon be so well established that Elizabeth could postpone life-determining decisions indefinitely. Though, of course, marrying Austin would have been a life-determining decision. It would lock her forever into the world of tailgate picnics and country club dances. You just know theres always an alligator somewhere on his person, Bill had said. But she had been able to overlook his conventionality; much is forgiven of tanned, wiry blonds.

Her disenchantment had been gradual. She began to see the birthday and Christmas gifts of Bermuda bags and add-a-beads as a tacit reproach of her own taste. The feeling culminated on a golden April afternoon as they strolled along the path by the campus duck pond. Austin had gazed tenderly into her eyes and said: If you lose ten pounds, Ill marry you. Elizabeth pushed him into the pond and walked off without a backward glance.