Read Online Straight Up and Dirty: A Memoir by Stephanie Klein - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Klein
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knock-off date on my arm. I wanted the real thing, the genuine article, with the brand name L. Hearing Electra and William exchange vows, I felt their importance, probably more than someone who’d never been married because I knew their weight. “In sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse…” It was coming, the onset of sobbing. I felt it rising through me, caught in my throat. I knew if it were to come out, it would be loud and people would turn. I swallowed. I had no one to hold. What if this was my life, attending weddings, sitting in pews, listening to I do’s, perpetually wishing for someone to share my life with? Where the fuck was the alcohol?
Instead of a yellow bridesmaid’s gown, I should have been wearing green. I was jealous, happy for her, but jealous just the same. It felt like Valentine’s Day, when you’re single and each time you pass a cluster of cellophane-wrapped roses, you try to sneak a glance at the card, hoping they’re for you. They never are. That’s how it felt to be me. “And forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?” While I’d never said those exact words, the sentiment was still there, in Hebrew, somewhere, except Gabe and I didn’t have our friends and family present to witness our promises.
William and Electra’s ceremony ended with family and friends wishing each other peace. “Peace be with you, Steph,” Lea said suddenly, throwing her arm around me.
“And with you, my dear.”
“I know this sucks balls for ya, but don’t worry. We’ll be at the reception hall soon. I’ll get ya drunk on Redheaded Sluts.” Only my sister would know there’s a drink called Redheaded Slut. She was the best date I’d ever had. I regretted at that moment, in our embrace, not having her there for my own wedding. I wanted to share it with all of my family, even Yiya and Fay, with whom I’d share a dinner table at Electra’s reception soon enough. This would mean inquisitions from the Spaniards in my life. Screw the Redheaded Sluts—this called for tequila.
IF SHE SO MUCH AS ASKED A SINGLES CROWD TO FORM, I’D leave. I had already cried during the father-daughter dance, blowing my nose into Fay’s handkerchief, and God only knew where that had been. I survived the cutting of the cake. I couldn’t handle the craptacular bouquet toss. Everyone would look to me to step forward. I’m not single . I’m divorced ! Yes, I want to get married again, but I’m not standing in a circle, putting my left foot in, so another wedding guest can hokey pokey his way up my thigh with a four-dollar garter. Leave me the fuck alone!
“I think I’m going to leave now,” I said when I noticed the single men forming a cluster near the dance floor.
“Oh stop! The bouquet toss is a delightful tradition.” I was surprised my grandmother knew of it. The way she spoke of her upbringing, I had imagined her wedding traditions involved a goat eyeball.
“Then you go out there Yiya. If I leave, I’ll be improving your chances.”
“Are you kidding us?” Fay interjected, “If we go out there and catch that bouquet, it means we’ll have to let go of our walkers.”
“Yeah, but Fazie,” Yiya responded, “it also means the man who catches the garter will slip it on our leg!” The sisters looked at each other for a silent moment before releasing their siren laughs. “Wooo hoo! Now that’s a wedding, Fazie!”
“Well, at least dance with a fella, Stephanie.” There really was no fella with whom to dance. Besides, I was tired from being forced to twist and shout with Lea. “You know, in my day we needed chaperones at dances. They measured to make sure he was far enough away, but I’ll tell you, I was so naïve back then.”
“What do you mean back then, Fazie? Just last week, you still thought it was a cigarette lighter in his pocket.”
“Oh, stop it!” Fay laughed as she shooed my
Instead of a yellow bridesmaid’s gown, I should have been wearing green. I was jealous, happy for her, but jealous just the same. It felt like Valentine’s Day, when you’re single and each time you pass a cluster of cellophane-wrapped roses, you try to sneak a glance at the card, hoping they’re for you. They never are. That’s how it felt to be me. “And forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?” While I’d never said those exact words, the sentiment was still there, in Hebrew, somewhere, except Gabe and I didn’t have our friends and family present to witness our promises.
William and Electra’s ceremony ended with family and friends wishing each other peace. “Peace be with you, Steph,” Lea said suddenly, throwing her arm around me.
“And with you, my dear.”
“I know this sucks balls for ya, but don’t worry. We’ll be at the reception hall soon. I’ll get ya drunk on Redheaded Sluts.” Only my sister would know there’s a drink called Redheaded Slut. She was the best date I’d ever had. I regretted at that moment, in our embrace, not having her there for my own wedding. I wanted to share it with all of my family, even Yiya and Fay, with whom I’d share a dinner table at Electra’s reception soon enough. This would mean inquisitions from the Spaniards in my life. Screw the Redheaded Sluts—this called for tequila.
IF SHE SO MUCH AS ASKED A SINGLES CROWD TO FORM, I’D leave. I had already cried during the father-daughter dance, blowing my nose into Fay’s handkerchief, and God only knew where that had been. I survived the cutting of the cake. I couldn’t handle the craptacular bouquet toss. Everyone would look to me to step forward. I’m not single . I’m divorced ! Yes, I want to get married again, but I’m not standing in a circle, putting my left foot in, so another wedding guest can hokey pokey his way up my thigh with a four-dollar garter. Leave me the fuck alone!
“I think I’m going to leave now,” I said when I noticed the single men forming a cluster near the dance floor.
“Oh stop! The bouquet toss is a delightful tradition.” I was surprised my grandmother knew of it. The way she spoke of her upbringing, I had imagined her wedding traditions involved a goat eyeball.
“Then you go out there Yiya. If I leave, I’ll be improving your chances.”
“Are you kidding us?” Fay interjected, “If we go out there and catch that bouquet, it means we’ll have to let go of our walkers.”
“Yeah, but Fazie,” Yiya responded, “it also means the man who catches the garter will slip it on our leg!” The sisters looked at each other for a silent moment before releasing their siren laughs. “Wooo hoo! Now that’s a wedding, Fazie!”
“Well, at least dance with a fella, Stephanie.” There really was no fella with whom to dance. Besides, I was tired from being forced to twist and shout with Lea. “You know, in my day we needed chaperones at dances. They measured to make sure he was far enough away, but I’ll tell you, I was so naïve back then.”
“What do you mean back then, Fazie? Just last week, you still thought it was a cigarette lighter in his pocket.”
“Oh, stop it!” Fay laughed as she shooed my
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