View from Saturday (9781439132012) Read Free Page B

two beautiful sprays of orchids, which Grandma Sadie artistically arranged around the new top layer.
    Since I had promised to be best man, not having a tux was a problem. I couldn’t fit in Allen’s, not that I would have wanted to if I could. That’s when Grandpa Nate called Bella Dubinsky.
    In her former life, Bella had been an artist. She painted the pictures that went into the pattern books for people who sew their own clothes. In the real world I had never met anyone who sewed her own clothes, but in Century Village, I had met three. Bella had a supply of fabric paints, and within two hours, we had painted a T-shirt that looked like a tuxedo with a red bow tie. I say
we
because I helped color in the lines she drew. It’s not easy filling in the lines on T-shirt material; it scrunches up under the weight of the brush, leaving skip marks. You have to go over it again and again. Fortunately, the paints dry fast, and by four o’clock, it was ready to wear.
    Repaired, the wedding cake looked beautiful. If Allen had not told, no one would have guessed that those orchids didn’t belong on top. But Allen told. He told everyone. He also apologized for my being best man. I didn’t think that I was someone he had to apologize for. I had helped a lot, and I looked totally presentable in my tuxedo T-shirt, which was a real work of art.
    Fact: Being best man is not hard. You walk down the aisle with the maid of honor. Who, in this case, was a matron of honor because she is married. I admit that having the son of the groom, Allen, as best man would have been a better match, size-wise, for the daughter of the bride even though one is married and the other divorced, but the essential fact is that I did a very good job. I stood beside the groom. Mrs. Potter stood beside the bride, and the four of us stood in front of the rabbi, and all five of us stood under the bridal canopy, which I know is called a
chupah
and which I think is spelled the way I spelled it. I didn’t yawn, sneeze, or scratch any visible thing. I held the wedding ring until the rabbi nodded, and I handed it over.
    I did an excellent job of being best man even though when I was under the chupah, I was under a lot of pressure trying to think of surprises for the cat’s paw invitations. The idea came to me at the very moment Izzy smashed the glass and everyone yelled
mazel tov.
Even before Izzy stopped kissing the bride, I knew what I could do. (Fact: It was a very long and thorough kiss.)
    It wouldn’t be easy. It would mean giving up things I loved, but I had to do it.
    When everyone except Allen was dancing the
hora,
I slipped out of the clubhouse and ran back to Grandma Sadie’s. I took off my tuxedo T-shirt, folded it nicely, andput it in my red wagon. I found the package of Post-it notes, my calligraphy pen, and bottle of ink and after making sure that the ink was tightly closed, I put those in the wagon, too. When I returned to the wedding party, the dance was over, and everyone was sitting around looking exhausted. My moment had arrived.
    I tapped a glass with a spoon as I had seen grown-ups do, and I said, “Ladies and gentlemen, will those lucky few who have the specially marked invitations, please come forward. It is time to choose your surprise gift.” I saw them pick up their cat’s-paw invitations and walk over to the band where I was standing beside my red wagon. “First,” I said, “we have one hand-painted T-shirt, which is an original work of art done by Mrs. Bella Dubinsky. In addition, we have a calligraphy pen, almost new, and a bottle of ink, almost full. These are the perfect instruments for beautiful handwriting. We have one packet of Post-it notes, complete except for five.” I swallowed hard and added, “And we have one red wagon.”
    Tillie Nachman, who could count precisely, said, “But that’s only four gifts, and there were five cat’s-paw