FIFTEEN BRIDESMAID DRESSES – A free story
Imogene stood in the spare bedroom of the apartment she rented in Sylva, North Carolina, looking at herself in the mirror. “This is the fifteenth bridesmaid dress,” she said to herself. “Number Fifteen now.”
Glancing around at the dresses hanging on two dress racks near her, she sighed. There was suddenly something sad about the very number Fifteen, even if she’d never really hungered to get married, always wanting more for herself. She glanced back at herself in the mirror, a plain and ordinary dark-haired girl with hazel eyes, slimmer now after being chubby and overweight for much of her younger life but still unremarkable.
The door opened and her friend Frances stuck her head in. “Does your dress fit all right?”
“Yes,” she answered. “And at least Number Fifteen is green and a more attractive color on me than the others.”
Frances giggled. “Have you really been keeping count of your bridesmaid dresses?”
“Yes, I have, and this is definitely Number Fifteen. Look around you, Frances, and you’ll see all the other dresses hanging on the racks in here. I only use this extra room in the big apartment I rent for storage of things I don’t need.” She glanced around before looking back at herself in the mirror. “But suddenly it feels depressing to see all these bridesmaid dresses hanging here and not a white bridal dress in sight.”
“I thought you never wanted to get married. That’s what you always said.” Frances, with her plump figure and messy, curly hair, that seemed to always need a good brushing, sat down on an old chair in one corner.
“Frances, you said back in high school and college that you didn’t want to get married, either, but you got married.”
“I guess I did say that, mostly as a coverup I think because none of the boys in high school seemed to look at me twice or ever ask me out.”
“We were both a little frumpy and in the losers’ group in high school. Certainly not in the Elite Eight that ruled Swain High.”
Frances smiled. “But I got lucky and ran into Wesley Leland the summer after we graduated from college. His family has that landscaping business in Bryson City and somehow, through hanging around them after we got married, I got the courage to start my own catering business. So, I managed to have my own little business, like I always wanted, and to have Wesley, too. I’ve been happy.” She paused. “I thought you were, too. You went on to get your masters and doctorate and got on faculty at Southwestern teaching English and literature like you always wanted. I know you’re respected there.”
“I am and I love my job,” Imogene said. “Maybe it’s just the number. There were sixteen of us in our two big suites on the third floor of Duke Hall at the University of Georgia. You know that, and we always called ourselves The Sweet Sixteen and have continued to meet in our own reunions and gatherings through the years. After this wedding of Suzanne’s, I’ll be the only single one of all our group, and you know they’re planning a big New Year’s Eve gathering next month during the holidays with all the husbands coming this time. I think it just hit me for the first time I’ll be the only single one there.”
“Well, you’ll also be one of the more successful ones of our group. You certainly look better than when we started college, too. You look very professional, Imogene. You’re Dr. Imogene Vogel now, too, a respected faculty member, not Imogenius Vogel like your old nickname in high school. Get over seeing yourself negatively. Mostly I was Fat Frances then. What a plastic time that was with so much silly stereotyping. We weren’t the only ones made fun of either. They called Andrea Stapleton, that was on the annual staff with you, Awful Andrea, and she runs her own design firm in Winston-Salem now. The Elite Eight used to ridicule Warner Zachery, now a well-known children’s author, calling him Weird Warner, and they laughed at Barry Jacobs, calling him Brainy Barry, and he owns a computer business in Bryson City. Leonard Goldstein, who you worked with on the annual staff and the school newspaper was nicknamed Loser Leonard, a little nerdy and rough in looks then but now he owns the Bryson City newspaper and is well-respected in the community. People move on, Imogene. You shouldn’t let those old high school monikers bother you.”
“Easy to say, but I know you still flinch around a lot of those snobby girls who called us names that still live in Bryson City. I’ve been with you a few times when we’ve run into them.”
“Especially in the drug store where they still hang out at their old booth as if reminding the world that they still are better than the rest of us.” She stood up. “But we’ve moved on from those days, and we’re going to a gorgeous wedding for Suzanne Simpson, who we both love, a sweet girl, even if rich as all get out, at the gorgeous Georgian Hall in downtown Athens. You know it’s a fabulous place and we’re staying overnight after the rehearsal dinner. Cheer up. We’re going to have a great time. Put that dress on a hanger and get your suitcase and let’s hit the road.”
Imogen turned to grin at Frances. “You’re right. We’ll have a great time.” However, in the back of Imogene’s mind she was already coming up with an excuse not to attend the big New Year’s Eve gathering where everyone would be there with their spouses, married, except for her.
The rehearsal was going well, everyone in more casual dress for that, until Imogene looked across the room at a group of groomsmen laughing and realized she knew one of them. “Oh, my gosh, it’s Leonard Goldstein,” she couldn’t help muttering to herself. “What in the world is he doing here?”
She slipped over behind a pillar to hide for a moment and try to decide what to do. She could still hear Leonard’s voice, laughing and making jokes with his friends. If he saw her would he make jokes and tell everyone about her past? The girls she’d lived with in the dorm here in Georgia didn’t know her past. She was not that awkward girl from high school anymore and hardly wanted others to know what she’d once been like.
Imogene glanced around. With the rehearsal over, maybe she could slip out one of the side doors until everyone left, then slip back in to get her coat and purse before starting back to their hotel. It was only a block away. With such a big wedding and so many guests tomorrow, maybe Leonard wouldn’t notice her as he might tonight. And with so many people milling around at the big buffet rehearsal dinner and dance after, he would be less likely to recognize her. She’d have her hair up then and be dressed in green like all the other bridesmaids, blending into the crowd more.
Imogene slipped outside to a little balconied area for a few moments, leaving the noise of the rehearsal gathering behind. It was chilly but not too cold under the covered balcony.
As she leaned against the railing in relief, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Are you all right, Imogene? I thought I recognized you and then saw you slip out, looking upset.”
Turning to face the inevitable, she saw Leonard standing there watching her. “Hello, Leonard. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Imogene made an effort to smile, and then watched his face change.
Looking away for a moment, he said in a softer voice. “You were trying to avoid me, weren’t you, Imogene?”
Sorry to realize she might have hurt him, she smiled and said, “I’m sorry for that, Leonard. It’s just that seeing you brought a rush of old memories back.” She paused. “I know you love to joke and jest and I was suddenly afraid you might say something sort of derogatory.”
He shook his head. “Like call you Imogenius Vogel? I’d hardly risk that when you’d probably pop back and call me Loser Leonard. I’d just as soon leave that old past behind, too.”
She felt embarrassed. “So would I.”
“Actually, your name wasn’t as bad as mine if you think about it. At least you were termed a genius versus a loser.” He grinned. “Those old names hurt, didn’t they? And they kept high school from being the good time it should have been for many of us, you, me, Warner, Anna, and Barry.”
“And Frances,” she added. “She was my roommate in college. We’re both here as bridesmaids for one of our suite mates, Suzanne.”
He laughed then, that warm, rich laugh she remembered. “So, you’re one of the Sweet Sixteen,” he said. “I think my friend Harold said his bride-to-be, Suzanne, is the last of them to be married.”
“No, the last in that role would be me.”
“You aren’t married yet?”
“No, are you? I heard you’d taken over the newspaper and added several small local papers to your family’s old business. I always knew you’d do well.”
“No, I’m not married yet, either.” He smiled. “You were one of the few who encouraged and believed in me back then. You also corrected a lot of my copy when we worked on the school newspaper and the annual together. I might have offered you a copyediting job with the paper if you hadn’t soared up academically and become a professor. I’ve seen some nice write-ups about you in the Southwestern newspaper, and I actually saw you march in with the other faculty at a graduation I once attended.”
“I don’t remember seeing you.”
“Like you tonight, I was probably avoiding you, hating to think of how you’d remember that awkward, somewhat geeky boy I was then.”
She studied him. “You look very nice, Leonard.”
“No longer pudgy with that mass of curly hair drooping in my eyes, a variety of pimples on my face, and baggy shirts and pants,” he interrupted to add.
“Well, I could say worse about my looks. Hardly goth like Anna’s, but with those colorful gypsy skirts, terrible color combinations in clothes, long hair down my back, big horn-rimmed glasses, and usually an armful of bracelets.”
“I never made good choices in eyeglasses either.” He stopped to adjust his and study her. “I think these do look better, don’t you, and you must be wearing contacts now.”
She smiled at him, beginning to relax. “Those glasses do look good on you. I still have a few pairs of glasses but I wear contacts more now. You really do look good, Leonard. You’ve come a long way from those old days.”
“It’s cold out here.” He glanced back inside. “Let’s go sit inside at that little table by the door.” He pointed to it. “The crowd is breaking up, but I’d like to talk for a few more minutes, so you won’t feel like running away from me tomorrow. There is a dinner and a dance after the wedding, and I remember you’re a good dancer. You were one of the few people who didn’t dread dancing with me at our school dances. I hope you’ll be kind and dance with me then.”
“Sure,” she said, remembering Leonard one of the few boys who ever asked her to dance at school dances. She owed him.
They slipped inside to sit at a small round table with two chairs, tucked beside the balcony window. After a little chit chat, he sighed. “Are you going to that big New Year’s reunion thing I’ve been hearing Harold talk about that the Sweet Sixteens are having New Years at the Brasstown Resort?”
Feeling more like being candid now, she said honestly. “If I can think of any way to get out of it, no. All the husbands are coming this year, and, frankly, I hate being the only single one there.”
“I know the feeling.” He nodded. “My old fraternity at the University of Tennessee is having a big reunion over the Christmas holidays. Harold Geoltz, who is marrying Suzanne—which is the reason I’m a groomsman here—is really razzing me about being one of the few remaining bachelors. I think they’ve cooked up some ways to mess with me about that in some of their speeches and antics. I’m really dreading it.”
“Too bad we’re not both at least engaged to someone.” She laughed. “I’m getting a lot of comments from the Sweet Sixteen girls now, too, those kind, patronizing comments with the underlying message that there’s something wrong with you for still being single.”
“Here, here!” He laughed, but then he fell silent looking away.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said after a minute. “I imagine a few people saw us slip off together. Why don’t we pretend we used to have a wild thing for each other, rediscovered each other here, renewed that old relationship, and have decided to get engaged. This will take the heat off both of us. We can dance and make eyes at each other tomorrow in front of everyone to make it more believable. Even your friend Frances. We can tell Frances we had a secret thing going we didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“Why would we want to do that just for this wedding?”
“You’re missing the point,” he said leaning forward. “As an engaged couple, you can go to my fraternity reunion with me with all the other guys’ wives or girlfriends coming up next month and I can go with you as your fiance to the big Sweet Sixteen party with all your friends for the New Year’s Eve weekend.”
Imogene frowned. “You want to pretend to get engaged just so we’ll look good at two upcoming events?”
“What would it hurt? It would solve both our problems of going as we are and not having a good time.” He paused. “Also, I think we could have a great time together, Imogene. We know each other. We get along. We went to school together, know each other’s families.”
She crossed her arms. “Well, I personally think we’d need to get together to get our stories more straight about this. It’s been almost ten years since we’ve seen each other or spent any time together. An engaged couple would be a lot more up to date about each other than we are, Leonard, even if I would consider the idea.”
He threw up two hands. “No problem. We’ll get together sometime before then, talk and catch up on everything, and plan our strategy. I’ve been building a house on the mountain just outside Bryson City, up on Fontana Ridge Road. It’s finished and furnished, in part. You can come up one weekend and we’ll plan everything out. We’ll both have some time off for the Thanksgiving holidays.”
“Maybe.” She thought about it. “I might stay over a night so we can talk but …” She hesitated. “Just to talk, Leonard. I want to make that clear. I’m not very modern-thinking in other ways. You should know that. We went to church together.”
“I’m not very modern-thinking that way either, Imogene.” He pulled out his phone. “Thanksgiving is next week on Thursday. I know you have family stuff like I do that day, but what about Friday after? Business is always light for Thanksgiving weekend. I like to give all my people at the paper a light load to have time to spend with families, and you should be off for the holiday at school, right? We can meet up at the house at about five to six.”
He pulled out his phone. “Give me your email and phone and I’ll send you directions and everything. We can cook at the house Friday night and rustle up breakfast the next morning. I’ll get food in. Just bring yourself and whatever things you’ll need.”
Seeing her reluctance, he grinned. “Think of it as an adventure, Imogene. It will be fun. After the holidays, we can always let people know we’ve decided to break things off. No harm done to anyone but both of our holiday problems resolved. Won’t that be great?”
She passed along her information to him, getting his phone, email, and contact information, too. “Do you think this is really a good idea, basically lying to everyone.”
He grinned. “It’s just for the holiday, a good, practical, resourceful idea for two intelligent people in an awkward spot, and who does it hurt?”
While deciding whether she should really do this or not, Frances came around the corner. “There you are, Imogene. I’ve been looking for you so we can head back to the hotel.” She paused and then grinned. “Well, hi, Leonard.”
“Hi, yourself, Frances.” He stood up, reaching over to squeeze Imogene’s hands before he did and winking at her. “Imogene and I have just been enjoying a little private time catching up, a couple of old secret sweethearts remembering some good times.”
Frances eyes widened, and Imogene felt like kicking Leonard.
“It’s probably the reason neither of us has hooked up with anyone else in all these years,” he said. “That young love stuff is strong. Stays with you, makes it hard to see anyone else as a possibility.”
Caught in the web of this plot now and with Leonard abetting it, Imogene just smiled, getting up herself to leave with Frances.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Imogene,” he said, leaning over to kiss her right on the mouth in front of Frances.
As they walked away, Frances said, “I had no idea you and Leonard ever had a relationship back in high school, but you did spend a lot of time together.”
Well, I’m in for it now with Frances, Imogene thought.
The wedding and the next week flew by. Imogene thought about calling Leonard to call the whole thing off a hundred times at least, but she could never bring herself to pick up the phone to do it. In truth, she’d loved his warm attentions at the wedding, dancing with him, pretending they were a couple. He’d caught her at a vulnerable time with the Fifteenth Bridesmaid dress still stirring up her emotions. The beautiful wedding in Athens had further stirred her odd discontent with her life. Admittedly, she yearned for the love and joy she saw between Suzanne and Harold. Would it hurt to pretend a little longer? She had so little practice with boyfriends and dating. Maybe this time would help to teach her more what to do and how to act for the future. She had to admit she enjoyed the dizzy little feelings she’d experienced when Leonard had sneaked that kiss, held her close dancing later, the winks he’d given her, even the way he’d started looking at her as if she was beautiful and desirable.
The weather turned bitter cold on Thanksgiving with flurries around the area the next day but snow was not predicted. So, Imogene packed her car later in the day and started her trip from Sylva to Bryson City after texting Leonard to let him know she was on her way.
Leonard’s house on the mountain was beautiful, a cape cod with a broad covered front porch looking out toward the Smoky Mountains in the distance. The road to it, just outside Bryson City, wound in and out up the mountain but, once arriving, the view was spectacular. Coming out on the porch to meet her and taking her bags to carry them inside, he said, “What do you think?”
“It’s a stunning place.”
“I’d always wanted a mountain place, and a property with views, so I could sit out on my porch and enjoy looking across the mountains, a break from the stresses of the newspaper.” He let her in the house. “Some of the news I cover can be grim and depressing.”
Inside, Imogene looked around at a big, rustic living area with a rock fireplace, reaching back to a dining and kitchen area behind. Overhead and up the stairs a wide railed balcony looked down from the floor above. The quick tour Leonard gave her around the house revealed three bedrooms, one downstairs and two up, a cozy den upstairs, a small office, and a game room.
“My bedroom is downstairs,” he said, “but I thought you’d like this room upstairs.” He led her to a pretty upstairs bedroom for her overnight, decorated in blues, with a bath right next door.
“This will be perfect and the views are stunning,” she said.
If it had been anyone but Leonard she planned to spend a night with Imogene might have felt uncomfortable, but she’d known Leonard since their grammar school days. She could trust him or deal with him if he got out of hand. They needed this time to talk everything through for the two big events upcoming. In a sense, she looked forward to going to both now and she liked the idea of having a partner for them, so used to being a single.
Leonard had picked up dinner at a local restaurant they only needed to reheat. With the temperatures turning colder and the wind howling around the house as dark fell, they didn’t sit out on the porch, but Imogene could imagine it lovely in fine, warm weather.
After dinner, Leonard built a roaring fire and they sat and talked and talked, catching up on their lives. Imogene had been an only child, her parents now living over the mountain in Maryville. Her mother was a teacher there in high school, her father still in banking. Leonard had two younger sisters, both gone from home now, married and living away, but his parents still lived in Bryson City. A voracious reader like herself, they talked about books, her teaching, interesting news Leonard had covered at the paper, how he’d grown the business. In the background, they listened to old seventies and eighties favorites by the Bee Gees, Stevie Wonder, Olivia Newton John and The Pointer Sisters.
“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked after a time, when they felt comfortable that they knew each other better for their charades ahead.
“All right,” she answered. “Something on TV?”
“No, an old favorite we both love.” He held up a CD movie of Grease.
She laughed. “Do you think we can still sing along with all the songs?”
“As many times as our old group watched this film, I’m sure we can, and we can still do the moves for the Hand Jive, too.”
Imogene went to bed happy later. They’d shared a warm, congenial, and fun evening. Older now, they weren’t uncomfortable with themselves, worrying they might say or do the wrong thing, feeling they needed to hide their talents and strengths or be made fun of for holding them. It had not been easy for either of them being so academically gifted in high school.
The next morning, she woke up to the smell of coffee and breakfast in the works. She’d showered the night before, so it didn’t take her long to dress and head downstairs, but as she got to the bottom of the stairs, her mouth dropped open looking outside.
“We got a little snow outside,” Leonard commented.
She put a hand to her mouth. “Leonard, it’s a white wonderland out there. There must be four inches on the ground. Did you know it would snow like this?”
He shook his head. “No. Of course not. It was cold and there were some flurries yesterday, but the earlier weather reports said only snow possible in the higher elevations.” He came over to stand beside her where she’d walked to look out one of the big windows down the mountain side. “We were having such a good time, I never thought to tune in to the weather again. If and when the forecast changed I didn’t know about it, Imogene.”
“But look at the roads. I can’t get down the mountain in this.”
“No. It’s too dangerous and too icy. I’ve already checked the forecast and road conditions We’re stuck for a while until the sun melts some of this off. But temps are warming. I hope later today we can get out.” He started back toward the kitchen. “The good news is we haven’t lost power, have lots of firewood and food. So, we’re good.”
Upset, Imogene trailed into the kitchen after him. “This is so upsetting. I know people will be expecting us back. I don’t want gossip starting. I had excuses for a night away but not more.”
“It will be okay, Imogene. Pour us both a cup of coffee and get some creamer out of the refrigerator while I scramble these eggs.”
“Okay,” she said. “What else can I do?”
“Pour some juice, get out some butter and jelly for the biscuits.” He pointed toward the oven. “I popped in some of those frozen ones for us; they should be done now.”
They ate, watching news and weather reports on the television. After breakfast, Leonard made calls to some of his staff on the newspaper, popping requests and orders, letting them know he’d be delayed getting in.
After a time, Leonard built up the fire and came to sit beside her on the sofa.
“I had a bad feeling about this whole idea,” Imogene admitted to him. “Perhaps I should have listened to that check, not been so impulsive. Maybe this is a sign that we shouldn’t lie to people and pretend a relationship just to make a couple of social situations easier for us.”
She turned to see Leonard watching her. “I’m not sorry, Imogene,” he said. “I need to admit I contrived this whole thing just to get to spend time with you.” He sighed. “You’re going to think this sounds stupid, but I really did have a huge crush on you all the way through high school. But you were so smart and pretty and I was so geeky in looks then, with no athletic prowess and laughed at by most of the jocks and leaders as being a loser in school and life, I was afraid to even ask you to go out.”
Imogene turned to him in amazement. “You liked me and wanted to ask me out?”
“I did.”
“You thought I was pretty then?” She knew she was stunned at that.
“I thought so, curvy and pretty, with all that long dark hair down your back. I was always goofing around and pulling it and finding ways to tease you just to get closer to you.” He stopped. “You always smelled like strawberries. It must have been some cologne you wore.”
“It was just an inexpensive hand crème and body mist I wore and strawberry shampoo, Leonard, nothing fancy.”
“And I loved all those bright, floral skirts you wore and all those bracelets. You looked like a gypsy.”
“You liked that?” She felt amazed at his words.
“You’re going to think it’s dopey, but I fell in love with you back then, dreamed about you, thought a lot of inappropriate thoughts about you. Then I saw you at that wedding and thought maybe this was my chance. You were even prettier than I remembered, and when I saw you in that gorgeous green bridesmaid’s dress it was no act, Imogene, to pretend I loved you.”
He laughed and turned to look outside. “At least I know you can’t run out the door right now mad at me. I’m glad it snowed. It gives me more time with you.”
Imogene couldn’t even think what to say.
“Do you care for me at all, Imogene?”
She smiled then. “We spent so much time together in those years, Leonard, with our group of friends and with the two of us working on the annual and the school newspaper together. I feel silly saying it, but I had a little crush on you, too. It’s one of the reasons I ran off the other day. You looked so suave, competent, and at ease, laughing with all your friends. I was afraid you’d say something and laugh at me and that I’d feel embarrassed and awful. I always felt so foolish liking you then.”
Her words were cut off as Leonard pulled her into his arms and kissed her silly. Honestly, there was no other way to describe it. It was so sweet and good, with him murmuring love words to her, that she just wanted to giggle with the joy of it.
“Aren’t we a couple of nuts?” he said after a time, pulling away to thread his fingers in her hair and then down her cheek. “All this time caring and both of us just holding it in and dreaming.” He leaned in to kiss her again, a bit more passionately than before, making her heart beat quicken and her whole body seem to come alive.
Leonard pulled away and dropped to one knee by the couch. “Imogene Vogel, I hope you’ll agree to make our fake engagement a real one and marry me. I promise I will always cherish you and love and respect you.”
“Yes, Leonard. I say yes.” She leaned in to kiss him back.
He grinned at her then after a few moments. “You were telling me all the colors of bridesmaid dresses you have. Maybe you can give one to every bridesmaid in our wedding and we can have a multi-color wedding. I don’t think there are any colors left to use.”
“No, I’m going to have deep red burgundy bridesmaid dresses. No one has had burgundy dresses, and you can be sure I’m inviting a lot of bridesmaids to be in my wedding, too. I’m due a lot of return from my friends for all those fifteen dresses I’ve bought.”
“Will you be okay living here with me? It’s only 24 minutes from Bryson City to Sylva.”
“I love your house, Leonard and I’ll love living her. But I think I’m going to keep my garage apartment beside Mrs. Merton’s big house, too. On days like this when we have snow in the mountains I can walk to campus and my classes, and when I have late meetings I can stay over. You won’t mind, will you? The rent isn’t much because Ruth Merton was a good friend of my mother’s.”
“Whatever you want, Imogene.” He pulled her close to kiss her again.
As they snuggled on the couch in front of the fire, Imogene smiled to herself. Finally, a bride and not just a bridesmaid. And, in truth, she needed to figure out something to do with those fifteen bridesmaid dresses.
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EXTRA NOTE: To run into Leonard and Imogene again … and many of their old high school friends you read about in this story, look for my book set in Bryson City, North Carolina, called DADDY’S GIRL, in print or eBook versions through major retailers in store and online.
Etta slipped in the back door off the old service porch of their big Antebellum home at Hilton Head, hoping to clean up from her swim at the beach before her mother spotted her. She’d just slipped out of her flip-flops, propped her surfboard against the wall, and was toweling her hair, when she heard the door to the house open.
Lin Stepp 