After all that, I learned it's not that hard to dissociate your way through a wedding.
So much of it didn't require a lot of social effort. Yes, the other bridesmaids looked at me weird when I met them in the hotel lobby the next morning, and I gave Melissa a probably unsatisfyingly-flat reassurance when she asked me if I'm okay again. But after that it was easy. We all got our hair and makeup done; I let the other girls handle the obligatory small talk with the hairdressers and obviously we couldn't talk while our makeup got applied. Afterwards, everyone was too focused with helping Cayley navigate her big day to worry about me, besides the occasional concerned glance from Melissa.
We got Cayley into her dress and I silently watched her fiancée get his first opportunity to gawk over her. The wedding photos were a breeze; I just had to turn my brain off and do whatever the photographer said. He gave me a couple of reminders to smile more, which is a typical comment for me to get in my own life during the rare occasions I've had photos taken professionally, but he had criticisms and suggestions for several more of us so I didn't stick out there. The whole experience had the opposite dynamic from how it used to be when I went to weddings and bar mitzvahs as a kid: I now prayed for busywork and scheduled activities instead of facing the terrors of getting a break and being responsible for my own choices. Basically, I preferred the role of bridesmaid to the role of Ainsley.
The ceremony all went according to script, aside from the ringbearer faceplanting and some guest leaping out of his aisle seat to catch the rings before they hit the ground. Good thing the venue was indoors, I suppose. I cheered and clapped for the bride, fake-laughed half a second after the other bridesmaids whenever the maid of honor referenced some sorority story or in-joke in her speech. I mostly occupied myself strategizing exactly how long I had to stay at the reception before I could go home without causing suspicion, but to my surprise I actually found myself caught up in the ceremony a handful of times. Teared up a little. I think it's because I'd spent the last couple of days seeing a lot of Cayley and she came across as a shy, very nice person who deserves her happiness. Not that I didn't feel weird about it once I realized what I was doing, nor did it make me any better at shouting and cheering for her when the time came.
Finally the reception arrived. Just a few more hours before I got to relax. We had dinner and I made sure to focus more on eating my food when the conversation turned to subjects I was less able to respond to. When the bridesmaids all got up to dance, I activated the plan I'd come up with for avoiding a repeat of last night's disaster: I'd let the talkative groomsman I'd been paired with for the ceremony dance with me.
That certainly wasn't something I would've done fresh out the Inn a few months ago, but if there's anything I've learned since then it's that people who actually know Ainsley are far more terrifying to interact with than anyone who doesn't. Still, I found myself reminded of one reason I was so terrified to go out in public at first. It hit me after I'd already allowed him to invite me to the dance floor just how infrequently I interact with men anymore for more than fleeting moments; Ainsley's friends are all women, and so is the one person stuck in this misadventure with me. (Not that she'd consider herself stuck.) Really there's only the men at Ainsley's job, and her office is decidedly majority-female so being around them isn't especially nerve-wracking. This guy, on the other hand. He didn't do anything wrong. But everything about being around him-- the leading questions he asked me, the occasional comments, how he held onto my waist during the slow dance and how big his hands were, the way he kept scanning my body-- made it hit me that in this body I'm a woman, in a way that wearing bras, having a period and spending a weekend as a bridesmaid didn't. The sheer difference from how I would've interacted with him in my own body. And that is, deeply uncomfortable to have to think about.
But at the end of the day, my plan worked. I could respond to all his small talk and when it came to dancing I just let him lead me. I never had to live up to any expectations besides those related to the immediate setting. And nobody interrupted me to ask me if I was doing okay. As uncomfortable as it was, it solved the problem I'd hoped to solve. After I was satisfied with how long we'd been dancing I even let the guy have my number when he asked, as a tip of sorts, not that I plan on being prompt with any responses. And with that, I said my goodbyes to Cayley and the bridesmaids, made sure to hug Melissa and promise to see her again soon (we'll see. The upcoming holidays provide me with a lot of convenient excuses but I really did mean it), and went on my way.
I noticed an open window as I parked in front of the apartment, and when I walked in there was Heather, on the couch, a lit joint in hand. I was relieved to see her, which mostly only happens when I'm exhausted from trying to be Ainsley. It's never a great sign about how I spent my day, or my weekend in this case. "Welcome back, girlie", she told me. I looked down at myself in my bridesmaid dress and sighed, standing there for a few moments.
"Heather..." I asked, "Do you think there's something I'm missing, some obvious piece I've overlooked for why I'm so much worse at pretending to be... these lives, than you, or the people on the blog?" I had a lot of time to dwell on the drive back home. "Like, there's people who can but choose not to because they don't care, or there's horrible situations like kids in adult bodies who really can't do it. But I'm not in a position like that, there's no reason I shouldn't be able to. Can I figure it out and it'll just click into place, and I'll slap myself wondering how I could've been stupid enough to overlook it? Or is there something wrong with me and I'm just that different from everyone else?"
Heather thought for a little while. Answering that question probably wasn't the way she'd planned to spend her chill Saturday night indoors. So she didn't. Instead she scooched over on the couch, shrugged, and silently offered me the joint.
I hesitated, but not long enough to change out of the bridesmaid dress, before I sat down and accepted.
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