Getting Lei'd

Chapter 2

2

Baggy drags me to the silver convertible classic Mercedes that was meant to be our post-ceremony ride. The top is down on the pristine car and there are a myriad of cans tied to the back. I can’t help thinking that Gary will not be at all pleased when he comes out and finds that someone has been messing with his precious car. That’s not my problem anymore, though, I guess. I had been exceedingly close to making his quick-to-anger testiness my problem for a lifetime.

Baggy jumps in the driver’s seat as if she plans to take the car. I have let her lead me out here, but now I decide to speak up. “We can’t take this car, Baggy. It’s Gary’s pride and joy.”

“He owes you. Come on,” she orders me. I hold my ground, so she acquiesces a little. “We’ll bring it back. Eventually.” She adds the last word under her breath. I can tell by her tone that she is exasperated by my lack of adventure. She seems to think I should agree that grand theft auto is no big deal.

I stay rooted in my spot, so Baggy decides to play dirty. She shakes her head sadly, saying, “You get more like your mother every day.”

That does it. She knows exactly how to push my buttons. Even though I know what she’s up to, I can’t ignore it. I huffily get in the passenger’s seat as she searches for the keys.

“I know they’re here somewhere.” She checks under the floor mat and in the console. “Jackpot!” she yells excitedly when she lowers the sun visor and the keys fall into her lap. “What kind of dipwad leaves the keys to such a beautiful car out where anyone can find them? He deserves to have his car taken,” she informs me with a wink and a huge smile.

She adjusts her seat forward as far as it will go and turns the engine over. When it rumbles to life, she yells out gleefully, “Yee-haw! Purrs like a pussycat.” She delves into her white purse and draws out a turquoise scarf to tie over her curls. I shake my head to decline her offer of the orange scarf she draws out from deeper in her pocketbook.

We both look up when we hear my sister running, full-tilt, toward us. She has her violet bridesmaid’s gown hiked up and she is making good time, considering the heeled pumps she is wearing, evidently having retrieved them from the middle of the floor where she had left them as a tripping hazard. Billowing behind her are several clear plastic dry-cleaning bags.

Ruthie hurls herself toward the backseat of the car while yelling, “Go, go, go!”

Baggy doesn’t hesitate. While Ruthie is still in midair, she slams the car into gear and presses the gas pedal to the floor, lurching the car forward. Amazingly, Ruthie lands in the backseat and isn’t injured.

Baggy has two modes when driving (and in life): all-out and stopped. She is so vertically challenged that she peers out the windshield by looking through the space between the top of the steering wheel and the dashboard. I say a silent prayer and buckle my seatbelt as we race through town at nearly three times the speed limit.

The wind is whipping through my hair when I turn to ask Ruthie, “What’s that?” I use my head to indicate the bags she stole from the church.

“It’s the tuxes.” She beams, obviously proud of her theft.

I’m not sure what the point of taking them was. “Umm, I don’t think they’ll be needing them now that the wedding is off.”

Ruthie pouts a little, as if I’ve just rained on her princess parade. “Well, Gary will have to pay late fees because we aren’t taking them back on time.”

“Yeah, stick it to him!” Baggy is obviously on board with the thievery.

I can’t help but think that the only people we are really hurting are the rental company and anyone who has the tuxes rented next, but I decide to hold my tongue. In some strange way, I suppose it’s sweet that Ruthie was willing to do this to avenge my wedding day dumping. Besides, I don’t need to be told again that my voice of reason sounds just like my mother’s.

“Where are we going?” I ask Baggy in an attempt to change the subject.

“Away” is her simple response, and I decide that for once in my life, I’m just going to go with the flow and see what happens. If anyone deserves to get away right now, it’s me.

“We’re just like those crazy broads Thelma and Louise,” Baggy shouts over the hum of the speeding car.

Her proclamation makes me hope she doesn’t intend to drive us off a cliff, like the characters do in the movie. Nothing would surprise me with Baggy. The problem is, she and Ruthie would come out of the crash completely unscathed. Even though I’m the only one in a seatbelt, the best-case scenario for me would probably be a full-body cast. I’d tense up all over, while the other two would just enjoy the ride down.

I shake my head to try to clear it. I don’t want to be negative. I love my grandmother and sister, but they do seem to live charmed lives. If I tried half the crazy, irresponsible stunts they pull, I’d be dead or in prison. Today is the perfect example. Being dumped on her wedding day is something that wouldn’t dare happen to Baggy or Ruthie. They simply wouldn’t allow it.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the side mirror. I’m still in the white gown, but my hair has now been whipped into a snarled beehive of rats. I glance back at my sister, who looks windblown but wild and free. Baggy’s hair remains perfectly coifed under her scarf.

Looking at these two reminds me that even though I’d like to be as carefree as them, I’m just not. I seem to be built differently than they are. Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought. Ugh.

Mother didn’t get dumped on her wedding day, though. Double ugh. The more in control of my life I try to be, the more of a hot mess I become.