Pretending to Be Andersen

Distance Makes the Heart

Once Vincent left and school started again, the days began to fly by. Winter melted into Spring. Track and Field season picked back up. Graduation was coming up on the horizon. The wedding was almost here. Deadlines were looming. The stresses were beginning to stack up. Between picking a college and planning a wedding, I had no time to be stressed.

    College was a topic I didn't want to think about. I applied to a number of culinary schools throughout the world, like the Culinary Institute of America, the Institute of Culinary Education, and the Culinary Arts Academy. And I was accepted to almost all of them. I could go anywhere. The stress from the colleges didn't come from money—Lilly and James informed me that my schooling would be paid for, whatever I decided—instead, the stress came from location. My two top choices would send me across or out of the country. The Culinary Institute of America was located in New York with the added bonus of a cool abbreviation CIA. Just think of the jokes that could be made! The other top pick was the Culinary Arts Academy in Switzerland. SWITZERLAND!

    Just thinking about it was beginning to overwhelm me.

    The wedding, surprisingly enough, was low on my stress meter. Rebecca knew, for the most part, what she wanted and I was just along for the ride. Fittings were done. Location was picked. Minister hired. Caterer decided. We were sending out invitations this week. Cake tasting next month. Bachelorette party was being planned. Everything was smooth sailings from here.

    Track and Field registered a little higher on my stress meter. When school resumed, I was nominated and almost unanimously voted in as team captain—I was the only opposing vote to that. The title didn't come with too many responsibilities but I didn't want any of it, that's for sure.

    My mother kept up an effort to stay in contact. She calls every week. I keep her at arms-length still.

    And Vincent...

    Well, we have both been busy.

    School has been keeping us both from talking too deep into anything specific. I was getting used to the days without him being there and even the days without hearing from him. Lately, it seemed like we just kept missing each other.

*                                       *                                     *

Rebecca and I sat in the "war room" with everything now in neat and organized areas. Almost the whole of the wedding was laid out before us or pinned up on the walls. The seating chart was well under way—with over four hundred people invited to attend. Family, cousins, and long distance friends were going to receive their invitations in just a couple weeks and send back their responses, which would help us to finalize the seating chart. Luckily, there wasn't really anyone we needed to worry about keeping apart during the wedding—the seating chart was more for the soothing stabilization it provided Rebecca when she got too stressed about another aspect of her big day.

    "So do you think your mom will come to the weddin'?" Rebecca asked, eyeing the chart.

     I laid on the floor behind the desk, fighting a headache that was coming on from all the lace and chiffon.

    "She probably will," I admitted even though I wasn't entirely sure. I didn't talk about the wedding with her.

    "Where should I put her?"

    I took a minute to think about it. She couldn't sit with me because I would be at the Wedding Party's table. She wasn't actually related to the bride or groom so she probably wouldn't sit with James, Lilly, and Rebecca's parents. Who else did she know? Was she familiar with the aunts and uncles? It was the only table that made some sense. She was extended family for them in a weird way.