Me vs. Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

Yom Kippur. Just in case. I’m not religious, but I absolutely can’t get married in a church. And what about those wafers? Do they come in kosher? Do people actually eat wafers, or is that just in the movies? Are they carb-free? My mom is always on a diet. Oh God, my mom is going to throw the wafer.
    Cam sees the panic on my face and quickly adds, “Mom, we haven’t decided on St. George’s. I told you that.”
    â€œCalm down, Cammy. You don’t have to make a decision this second. But it is a family tradition, and it would make me very happy.”
    For someone not of the tribe, she sure has the Jewish guilt thing down pat. She could put my mom to shame.
    â€œAnd May six is the perfect weekend,” she declares. “Not that I’m pressuring, I don’t want to pressure, but Aunt Zoey and Uncle Dean bought tickets in from Salt Lake for the whole family.”
    But no pressure.
    Cam looks exasperated. “Why would she already buy her ticket?”
    Alice shrugs and stares at her plate. “American Airlines was having a sale.”
    I don’t believe this. The relatives bought their plane tickets before I even knew we were getting married. Is this normal? This is not normal. I know my own family history makes it difficult for me to understand normalcy, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t it. I should tell her to back off. Step back, missy.
    The words are at the tip of my tongue, but they don’t come out.
    â€œAnyway,” Alice says, “let’s talk about colors for the wedding. I think orange would be beautiful—”
    â€œLet me just get something to drink,” I say backing away. Vodka, perhaps. In one of Alice’s orange-tinted tumblers.
    Â 
    â€œYou know I’m not converting, right?”
    â€œYou don’t have to convert to get married at St. George’s,” Cam says. We’re lying in his king-size bed, wrapped in his sheets.
    â€œI don’t even know if I want a big wedding. I always pictured myself getting hitched somewhere cool. Like barefoot on a beach in Fiji. Or at a campsite in Kenya. Or a mountain in Nepal.”
    â€œMy family can’t afford to go to Nepal.”
    Bingo. “Who says our families have to come? I’ve always wanted to elope. So romantic.”
    â€œWatching me get married will be a huge joy for them. I can’t take that away. This is the moment they’ve been looking forward to their whole lives.”
    They could probably use a hobby. I lean up on my elbow and place my hand firmly on a patch of blond fuzzy chest hair. “Is this about them or us?”
    â€œYou know what I mean. I’m sure your family would be devastated if they weren’t there. Don’t you want your dad to walk you down the aisle?”
    â€œOnly if my mother is at the other end of the aisle at the time—and the aisle is five miles long.”
    He squeezes my hand. “What did your parents say? Were they excited?”
    Oops. I knew there was something I’d forgotten to do. “I’ll call them tomorrow.”
    His eyes cloud over. “How could you not want to talk to them? Don’t you think that’s odd?”
    â€œWe’ve been busy,” I say and pull him closer. I squeeze my feet between his knees to warm them up.
    â€œPhone them first thing in the morning. What if they hear from someone else?”
    I roll my eyes. “Yeah? Like who? The National Enquirer ? ET ?”
    â€œYour feet are so dry,” he says, wriggling. “Why don’t you use lotion? It’s right by the bed.”
    â€œBecause I don’t feel like it.” Nag, nag, nag. I pull my legs away. “Would you stop telling me what to do?”
    â€œI didn’t realize you were a fan of dry feet.” He nuzzles his chin into my neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, and sounds like he means it. “And we can invite whomever you want to the wedding. And dress them