Going Barefoot in Greener Grass

PART I

The grass is always greener...

June 20, 1998

Bethany

Thinking back, perhaps the multiple glasses of Pinot Grigio she willingly consumed last night clouded her judgment.  She could have lied or, at the very least, waited for a better time to discuss it.  The words tumbled out of her mouth without a second thought and once they were out, there was no taking them back.  Before she could wrap her mind around what she had done, Mark was saying to her, So, that’s it. 

So, that’s it. Bethany hears again followed by. Miss?  So, that’s it, then?

Bethany leans her elbows on the convenience store counter and rubs her temples.

Yeah, I guess that’s it, Bethany replies letting out a long puff of air.  It’s over ... the engagement, the big wedding ... and, oh God, I’ll have to tell my parents. Pressing her fingertips against her eyes, she continues, They’re never going to understand.  What was I thinking?  Maybe I don’t love him as much as I should. Dropping her hands, Bethany looks at the cashier and adds, Do I really want a man who wants to hold me back?

The woman behind the register raises one eyebrow. She points with an extra long and brightly polished fingernail while flatly indicating, I was talkin’ about the coffee.

Bethany feels a flush of embarrassment.  She tosses a few bills onto the counter and doesn’t stick around to collect the change.  Back in her car, Bethany figures that if her only hope for surviving this day rests at the bottom of her twenty-four ounce cup of convenience store coffee, then she is without a doubt doomed.  Of all the awful, terrible, crap bad days to be broken-hearted, today has to be the worst.  How can she get through her best friend’s wedding, not to mention act as the maid of honor, when her whole world has been ripped in two? 

Momentarily, Bethany’s vision loses focus as she fights yet another round of tears.  Wiping her eyes, she hits the gas to back out of her space.  A rusted pickup truck rounds the corner at a fast clip causing Bethany to slam on her brakes last minute.  The truck rattles within inches of plowing into the rear of her car.  The over-sized cup of coffee she had been clinging onto like a life preserver now splashes hot down her right leg.  Making everything worse, the other two cups that had been riding shotgun in a flimsy cardboard holder also have pitched forward, spilling a good portion of their steaming black contents down the passenger seat.  Bethany frantically runs her hand down her scorched leg, desperately swiping at the droplets of stinging hot coffee.

Through a litany of colorful words, Bethany uprights the tipped cups shoving the completely inadequate plastic lids back into place. The overpowering smell of coffee wafting up from the floor mats offends her already nauseated senses.  Bethany leans her forehead against the steering wheel, gently knocking it as she repeats, Shit.  Shit.  Shit. 

Olivia

Olivia wakes in her usual groggy manner.  But today is by no means a usual day. The sounds of extra houseguests chattering below and the pleasing aromas of breakfast being cooked alert her senses.  Before rising, Olivia pauses to reflect how this very morning would be the last morning she would wake as a single woman in her parents’ house.  This thought fills Olivia with melancholy that is cut short by a rush of anxiety over the enormity of the day and all that could go wrong.  Does she have everything in place?  Was she prepared with the photographer, the flowers, whatever else?  Olivia takes into account all the planning that she has done over the past year and feels fairly certain that everything is in place and ready to go.  Coming to this conclusion should have eased Olivia’s mind, yet for some reason, it hasn’t.  Something, she isn’t particularly sure what, feels not quite right.

Most certainly, Olivia feels very confident about her decision to marry Michael.  When she dreams of their life together, her visions always have a rosy glow about them.  There will be children, a cozy home and summer vacations to the Jersey shore.  Besides, becoming a wife is the best thing Olivia presently has going for her.  It’s not like the phone is ringing off the hook from the couple of job applications she has sent out.

There you are, my sleeping beauty, Olivia’s mother calls from the doorway.

With her train of thoughts broken, Olivia replies, Hi, Ma.  Is that for me?

A little orange juice and toast with strawberry jelly to start your day off right. 

Her mother hands over the simple breakfast and Olivia gladly receives it.  Sitting up now, Olivia notices the effects of enjoying the rehearsal dinner festivities a little too much.  For what is considered drinking in moderation for many people is an over-consumption of alcohol for Olivia.  Well, it had been a fun time, Olivia muses hoping the reception would prove equally as lively.  Perhaps, it is her mild headache that is causing Olivia to feel a bit off.  Olivia considers this idea briefly and decides, no, there is still something else.

Taking a sip of juice, Olivia spies her mother’s odd expression. 

What?

Oh, nothing, her mother says, her misty eyes indicating the opposite.  Just my little girl is growing up and getting married.

Olivia lets out a deep exhale.  For some reason, she is feeling guilty.  Before Olivia can groan at her mother, the voice of one of Olivia’s aunts yells, MaryAnn, are you up there?

I’ll be right down! her mother shouts. Turning to Olivia, her mother complains, I said, ‘Put everyone up a hotel. They can drive the manager there crazy.  I have enough to think about’.  But no, your father insisted they stay here.  And now it’s, ‘MaryAnn, this’ and ‘MaryAnn, that’.  And I have no idea where your father is hiding.

MaryAnn, Olivia’s aunt calls again.

What is it? her mother yells as she charges head first out of Olivia’s room with her arms gesturing frantically upward.

Olivia lets out a little laugh listening to her mother’s footsteps plunk heavily down each step.  As she finishes off the remaining toast and juice, Olivia’s thoughts turn to Bethany.  Last night, the two women had such a good time talking and sharing a laugh or two.  Olivia smiles at the memory only to have it fade as she recalls how Mark had rudely taken over the conversation.  Olivia has absolutely no idea what Bethany sees in Mark.  Sure, he’s tall, attractive and financially well-endowed, so to speak.  But beyond everything superficial, Mark’s personality is arrogant, condescending and seriously lacking any sense of humor.  There was something about the look on Bethany’s face as she left last night with Mark that had seemed rather strange.

After finishing her breakfast , Olivia heads downstairs.  But rather than turning towards the kitchen where her extended relatives have gathered, Olivia steps outside into the brilliant sunshine of this June morning.  The fresh air eases her mild headache and Olivia begins to feel like everything really is going to go as perfectly as planned.  Then, out of the corner of her eye, Olivia notices a paper crinkling in the light breeze.  When she goes to investigate, all of her anxieties come flooding right back.

Bethany

Trying to pull herself back together, Bethany yanks down the visor and flips open the mirror.  To her disgust, the reflection looks like an unflattering caricature of her former self. Okay, damage control time.  What does she have in her purse for such an emergency?  Score!  Pale pink lip gloss.  What else?  A sample of face cream from one of the makeup counters at Nordstrom.  Bethany applies both vigorously.  The lip gloss seems to do the trick by distracting from the unfortunate puffiness around her eyes.  Not able to find any help for her distraught hair, Bethany finger combs her stick straight blonde locks back up into a neater version of the ponytail she had been sporting earlier. 

Good enough, she sighs, simultaneously snapping the visor up while searching for something to soak up the coffee mess that partially occupies the front seat.  A quick search of the glove compartment proves a fruitless effort, unless the couple of tampons she found counted.  They do claim to be super absorbent.  On second thought, Bethany simply rubs the wetness further into the cushion with her hand.  Not wishing to waste any more time, she continues on her way.

To distract herself from any and all thoughts that could dangerously lead to another emotional breakdown, Bethany decides to focus on the weather, the scenery ... anything else.  Sunshine pierces through scattered islands of billowing clouds – remnants from last night’s thunderstorm.

At Orchard Lane, Bethany swings a hard right without bothering to signal.  Though she could have driven down her street blindfolded for as many times as she had been on it, today Bethany glances from house to house admiring not only the façades, but the well-manicured lawns and tidy flower beds in early summer bloom.  All the homes along Orchard Lane are modest in size and pleasingly well kept.  There are Colonials, Capes, Tudors and Split Levels, each unique yet complimentary to one another.  At the white center hall colonial with black shutters, Bethany comes to a stop.  For twenty-four years she has called 1015 Orchard Lane her home.  In the last six years, since graduating high school, her home has become more of a place to crash between schooling, working and traveling. 

Bethany sits a moment trying desperately to convince herself that she is actually fine. Breaking off her engagement with Mark late last night had been an impulsive decision.  She had lost herself in the moment.  Bethany loathes her timing.  She usually shares just about every single detail of any significance about her life with Olivia.  Today, Olivia’s wedding day, would have to be the exception. 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, Bethany cuts the engine and attempts to exit with the three partially full cups of lukewarm coffee.  The driveway slopes upward adding extra difficulty to the task.  Silently cursing the car door that keeps closing on her, Bethany finally frees herself from her vehicle.

Out of nowhere, a voice that Bethany immediately recognizes as Olivia’s exclaims, What the hell! 

Olivia

Olivia snatches the bright yellow piece of paper affixed to the top of the knee high Virgin Mary statue centered just below her front porch.  Holding the paper close to her face, her suspicions over the nature of the letter are confirmed.  Anger boils up within Olivia.  She barely notices Bethany approaching until she’s right beside her.

What’s that? Bethany asks.

Olivia glances up with a start and then recovers quickly.  Oh, hey.  Referring back to the paper, Olivia explains, Look at this.  It’s another notice from the ridiculous, Olivia pauses to make air quotes and states, Neighborhood Committee.  Reading directly from the paper, Olivia continues, This notice is to inform you that as of the last general meeting, we hereby find, in a vote of nine to one, that the display of religious items is offensive to those not of the same faith.  Please remove this statue immediately or face possible legal action.

That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Bethany replies. What gives them the right?  My parents have lived on this block longer than half the people on this committee.  I’ll get my dad on this thing.  He’ll know what to do.

Hmm, Olivia grumbles looking around her front yard filled with an array of interesting items from a modest sized fountain to several graying cement statues, including one of Michelangelo’s David.  A ceramic Springer Spaniel sits in constant guard of the flagstone walkway where it meets the driveway. Across the rest of the yard, random groupings of flowers and plants meander among the grass and natural areas.  There are three bird baths balanced on pedestals, a few wooden bird feeders and a wrought iron bench.  In its own right, the final result is quite charming.  However, amid the backdrop of the conservative, suburban Philadelphia town in which they live, it stands out.  It especially appears out of place next to Bethany’s home situated on the other side of a white picket fence with its pansy bordered walkway and perfectly manicured lawn creating stripes of alternating shades of green.

Turning back to Bethany, Olivia exclaims, What am I doing?  Hey, can you believe today is actually here?  Before Bethany can reply, Olivia grabs for a cup and yanks it out of the holder while saying, Thank you so much for the coffee run.  Taking a quick sip, Olivia adds, Half my relatives are already here and the wedding doesn’t even start until three.  I’m going out of my mind with questions that I have to keep giving the same answer to over and over again to a bunch of people I won’t see until the next wedding or, God forbid, funeral.  If I hear, ‘So where ya gonna live?’ or ‘Where ya goin’ on your honeymoon?’ one more time.  Olivia pauses catching her breath.  She smiles at Bethany and tells her, Sorry, wedding stress.

I see that, Bethany says returning the warm smile.

Olivia’s expression softens to a look of concern.  That same sneaking suspicion that something isn’t quite right creeps once more into Olivia’s thoughts.  She studies Bethany thinking there’s something undeniably off about Bethany this morning.  She doesn’t look like her regular upbeat self.  Actually, she appears rather pale, almost like she is sick.  Olivia gives Bethany a quizzical look, trying to form an appropriate question.  But Bethany is quick to change the subject.

Let’s get inside before something else happens to this coffee.  It already spilled once.  Don’t even ask.

TWO

Bethany

Loud talking and quick bursts of laughter greet Bethany upon entering the Marzelli household.  Orienting herself, Bethany has the distinct impression that she has crashed someone else’s party.  That is, until she is spotted coming in past the living room towards the eat-in kitchen.

Look who it is!  The maid of honor has arrived! Olivia’s mother announces, followed by in a sing song voice, And she brought coffee!  At this proclamation from Mrs. Marzelli, the entire house comes to a silent halt.  Heads twist and look in Bethany’s direction.

For lack of anything better to say to Olivia’s extended family, most of whom she has never met, Bethany croaks out a weak, Hi, that sounds a little like a question.

After a brief pause, the entire group returns to their original state of liveliness and welcomes her into the kitchen.  Hey, come on in.  Nice to meet ya.

Despite today’s awkward entrance, Bethany usually feels comfortable in Olivia’s home.  Often she relishes being among a family so different from her own.  While Bethany’s family could trace their American roots nearly two hundred years, Olivia’s mother and father are first generation Italian-Americans.  And while Bethany’s parents work as professionals in accounting and real estate, Olivia’s family runs their own private business.  In the proud tradition of their background, the Marzelli family owns and operates two very popular pizzerias under the family name.  In fact, it had been the decision to open an additional restaurant that had led the Marzelli family to move from the city out to the suburbs.

It seems nearly everything including that Bethany is an only child lies in direct opposition to Olivia.  Mr. and Mrs. Marzelli have four children of whom Olivia is the youngest and the only daughter – the direct result of Olivia’s mother trying repeatedly for a girl after having each son.  Olivia’s three older brothers, Nicholas, Anthony and Vincent or as the family refers to them, Nicky, Tony and Vinny, have all grown and moved out, yet still contribute to the family business to varying degrees.

In the brothers’ absence at the house, Mr. Marzelli’s widowed and aging mother has come to live with her favorite son.  Born in Italy, Nonna as she is affectionately known, had moved to this country as a young newlywed over fifty years ago.  Bethany, in the absence of having her own grandparents living nearby, has adopted Nonna as her own.

Hi, Nonna, Bethany says bending down to give her a hug.  Nonna, standing where she always could be found, in the kitchen by the stove, turns partially to receive the light embrace. 

Look at you, you’re all skin and bones, Nonna scolds.  Sit down and I’ll make you tomatoes and eggs too.

Bethany knows better than to argue.  It seems virtually impossible for someone to starve to death in the Marzelli household.  This morning, especially, the kitchen table holds a variety of goodies.  Olivia’s relatives casually help themselves to a mini buffet of bagels, cream cheese, tea biscuits, strawberry jelly, bacon, milk, a selection of tea bags and other assorted goodies.  Some people opt to sit around the kitchen table, while others find their way into the adjacent dining room or down the short staircase to the family room.

Olivia’s uncle, or so Bethany surmises it to be, stands and offers her his seat.  He gives his ample stomach a pat and complains how full he feels before excusing himself from the room.  Sitting down now, Bethany begins to sense her stress easing a bit. 

Ma, Olivia calls to Mrs. Marzelli, who seems preoccupied with ripping the little packets of artificial sweetener to add to her coffee.  Look what I found outside.

Her mother looks up to see the bright yellow paper in Olivia’s hand.

It’s a notice from the Neighborhood Committee.  This time they want us to take away our statue of Mary.  There had been other notices referring to the landscaping decisions of the front yard but none had gone so far as to insult their religion as one of the very few Roman Catholic families on the street.

I can’t believe they’re ruining your wedding day with this bull. Mrs. Marzelli suddenly pauses.  Bethany figures that she must be trying to summon some personal restraint as she finishes her sentence with, Crap.  Then, with her voice gaining volume with each word, Mrs. Marzelli adds, You know who’s on that committee?  Before anyone can reply, she continues, I’ll tell you. Chelsea Croton, that’s who.  And do you know who’s in the pizza shop every Friday night?

Mrs. Marzelli looks across the room for someone to give her the obvious answer before plunging forward with her rant.  Chelsea Croton.  I guess we’re good enough for pizza and cheesesteaks but not good enough to be her neighbors.  Well, you just wait until I see her again or any other of those committee members.  Maybe she’ll get a little extra on her order, Mrs. Marzelli says mimicking a spitting motion.  If you know what I mean. 

Gross!  Ma, just calm down and don’t tell Dad until tomorrow.  I don’t need him upset too.  Olivia pleads with her mother.

In the midst of all the emotion, no one but Bethany has noticed Nonna shuffling out of the kitchen, with a carton of eggs in hand.  Uh, Olivia, where’s Nonna going?

Bethany follows Olivia outside where they catch up with Nonna halfway down the driveway muttering what Bethany assumes to be obscenities in Italian.  Nonna, what are you doing? Olivia asks.

I’m a-takin’ matters into my own hands, Nonna replies holding up the egg carton.

You’re not planning to throw eggs at Chelsea Croton’s house are you?  Olivia gasps.

Yes, she is. Bethany giggles trying her best to suppress a full out laugh.

Olivia’s smile appears like it may burst at any moment as well.  Taking a calming breath, Olivia attempts to speak again.  I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

Nonna considers her granddaughter for a moment, and then shakes her head in agreement.  You’re right.  We’ll a-do it tonight.  After the reception.  They’ll never suspect us under the cover of dark.

With that decided, Nonna turns and heads back towards the house.  No doubt to return to her post at the stove. Though Bethany surmises that she would be cooking something other than eggs in order to have a full arsenal on hand for later.  They wait until the door has closed and Nonna has made it safely inside before breaking into a fit of laughter. 

Leave it to Olivia and her family, Bethany thinks to make her laugh even in the face of such heartache.  Tears soak Bethany’s eyes and cheeks for the second time in only a matter of hours.  Sitting on the step of Olivia’s front porch, Bethany finds it far more difficult to return to a state of calmness.  Somewhere between laughing and crying, Bethany toys with the idea of informing Olivia of her called off engagement.

An image of Mark’s stunned face, hurt and indignant, flashes across her mind as well as her memory of stepping out of his car whispering, "I’m sorry."  Mark had reached across and slammed the passenger door shut severing any last chance to say more.  All she could do was stand there and watch Mark’s red Mazda accelerate down the road and listen to the angry vibrations of the gears roaring and shifting.

Her engagement ring, left on with the hope of not arousing suspicion, now squeezes around her finger like a small tourniquet ­– the effect of which leaves Bethany feeling lightheaded and mildly nauseous.  Bethany looks over at Olivia, who is wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.  She should say something.  It didn’t feel right to keep such an important piece of her life from her.  Coming to terms with the truth, Bethany could hardly believe it herself what occurred last night.  Undeniably, drinking too much hadn’t helped matters. Still there was more to it. Something about the way Olivia and Michael appeared so happy, so in love, so willing to make a commitment to one another disturbed Bethany, especially when she thought of her own relationship on those terms.  Every charming smile, every cute peck on the lips, every little romantic gesture she observed between the bride and the groom, regrettably nurtured feelings of hypocrisy in Bethany. The entire evening Bethany envisioned herself in Olivia’s place going through the motions of the rehearsal and the dinner all in preparation for the big walk down the aisle.  Each time Bethany did so, she managed to feel sicker and sicker at the prospect. 

Bethany feels her resolve crumbling.  She needs to tell someone what happened.  She needs to tell Olivia, right now, before the day gets too hectic.

There’s something you should know about last night, Bethany begins.

Hold that thought, Olivia interrupts hopping to her feet.  Following Olivia’s gaze Bethany notices a light blue mid-sized car attempting to park in an already completely crammed driveway.  The car lunges forward, brakes, attempts to change direction, rolls backward and brakes again, this time narrowly missing the mailbox.

Olivia

That’s Cheryl, Olivia reports not taking her eyes off the apparent accident waiting to happen.  In a split second decision, Olivia runs off towards the powder blue sedan.  Halfway down the driveway, Olivia wonders if she is seriously risking her well being.  Nothing can go wrong today, she reaffirms.  Not if she can help it. 

Olivia’s mother has been going to the same hairdresser for the past twenty years. As a wedding present to Olivia, Cheryl has offered her services for free in exchange for an invitation to the wedding. With Olivia’s assistance, the car finally docks along the curb causing mailboxes, pedestrians and squirrels to no longer linger in harm’s way. 

With that crisis solved, the next challenge is getting just about everything found at a hair salon minus the chair into the house.  As Olivia passes by Bethany, who is graciously holding open the door, she remembers that Bethany had been about to say something.  What did you want to tell me? Olivia asks.

Oh, I don’t know, Bethany states, dismissively waving her hand.

The commotion created by the grand arrival of Cheryl distracts Olivia from questioning Bethany further. Her curiosity loses priority to the decision of where to go with all of the salon supplies which has set off a domino effect throughout the bustling split level.  Cheryl thinks it is best to set up shop in the family room which means the men – Olivia’s brothers, her father, and a few uncles and cousins – need to evacuate the room. And that means, first ungluing their eyes from the television.  All moans and groans and no action prompts Olivia’s mother to take control of the situation via her husband.

Frank!

Okay, MaryAnn. You got four hours ‘til the wedding for Pete’s sake, her father grumbles.  With an oomph, Olivia’s father hoists himself up from his favorite easy chair, which has the telltale signs of many years of relaxation from a formidable man.  The cushions have long lost their elasticity and the earth-toned plaid material has faded in sections.  As the men file out of the room, her brothers talk of making some kind of harmless mischief at the groom’s house.  Olivia’s father, the last to go, gooses his wife on the way out and she lets out a shriek.  To Olivia and Bethany, he gives a wink.

The family room has a cozy feel about it, even