July 10, 2009

I am having anxiety about attending Ben's birthday party tomorrow.

Today was supposed to have been the day before the wedding. My Mom was supposed to have been here. We were supposed to have gotten our hair cut on Wednesday at Bumble and we were supposed to have had our rehearsal dinner at the Beekman Arms last night. Roby was supposed to have been here. Jon. Lucas. Erin. Suzy. James. Eric. Jack. Marc. Adrian. For that dinner. None were here.

We were supposed to be bowling tonight at the big party. We were supposed to have bowling shirts with the wedding party's names embroidered. We were supposed to drink beer and eat pizza and bowl and laugh. And be roasted and toasted.

And then tomorrow we were supposed to don our Bottega Veneta gingham jackets. Bowties. We were supposed to have been primped by Pam and styled by Alireza. Will and Melissa were supposed to makes us laugh. Sandra and Matthew were supposed to marry us. Bryan was supposed to spin. Billie was supposed to sing. I was too. Stand By Your Man and So In Love. I wanted to sing Cole Porter at my wedding.

We were supposed to eat fried chicken out of gingham lined baskets. We were supposed to have white hydrangeas and champagne and a good humor truck. We were supposed to wear red origami flowers on our lapels. The fellas too. The ladies, hats with netting. Denise was supposed to laugh. A lot. My Mom was supposed to look like Deneuve in an Anne Fontaine top and black pencil skirt and patent pumps. Lanterns were supposed to float in the water on the lake and the sun was supposed to set perfectly reflecting on 200 people we love. We were supposed to dance to The Smiths' There Is A Light.

We're not. Which we both know is the right thing. But right things don't always feel right. Sometimes they're sad.

But I am traveling to the lake house tomorrow. I will celebrate with many friends who were, months ago, planning to make the trek, not for a birthday, but for a wedding.

And I will be a guest at a party in my house. Not my party. Not my weekend on the rotation. And that feels weird too. I have not made it to the house since we split. I am intentionally making my travel companions (Sandra, Ms. Currie, Theron, Alireza) arrive 2 hours early. Partly because I want some quality time with Ben. Partly because I want to help with last minute preparations. And partly because I feel I may have a minor breakdown. I get emotional when I think of the house.

But things change and change is constant. I've embraced it. Lived it. It's engulfed me. And, Ben, sweet Ben, has too, I have a new life already and so does he and we're slowly merging back together. Dancing a ballet on broken glass. Cautious. A little bloody. Yet committed to finishing and bowing our heads.

Tomorrow is the first public performance. Wish me to break a leg?

And when all his loved ones (and many, many of mine too) raise a glass to celebrate his birth and his smile and his brilliance I will too.

Toasting to a life together. He and I. Just not in the way we'd originally planned. As they say, the show must go on.