Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

We returned back to Chicago quickly and settled back into our normal routine. After three weeks, the annoying phone calls on our answering machine from Ben’s mum quieted down. I thought it was because Ben’s mum had given up on calling us because she figured she wasn’t going to get anything done until Ben told me he had his parents phone number blocked. Both Elle and Cordelia were sympathetic to my plight of being considered a gold-digging whore by Ben’s mother though neither of them thought I had any right to be angry about the fact that Ben lied to me about being a member of the nobility. When I told my mother she was overjoyed until I explained to her that Ben’s mother didn’t exactly think high of me or my family.

In a month’s time, Elle had me go dress shopping with her for the perfect wedding dress. We were also going to pick out our bridesmaids dresses for the big day so Cordelia and I were certain to make sure we went along. Even though Elle has a considerable amount of fashion sense, she does take risks, usually terrible risks. The last thing I wanted was to be seen in a frumpy, flowery, overly poofy gown, not just because we didn’t want to look ugly but because I knew that if I wore anything that remotely looked unflattering, Ben would tease me to know end and save all the pictures of me in it. And I knew that if I wore an ugly bridesmaids dress, there would be plenty of pictures of it since Elle had hired Ben to be the professional photographer at her wedding.

“What about this one?” Elle asked Cordelia and me.

“That looks like the Eighties threw up on it,” Cordelia frowned.

“What about this one?” Elle suggested.

“Elle, you’re having a wedding not and S&M fetish fashion show,” I snorted. Elle let out a gasp as she produced another from the rack.

“This is it!” Elle smiled. Cordelia and I looked at the hideous, frilled pink monstrosity.

“Elle,” I said as composed as I could, “that is the ugliest thing I have ever seen.”

“That is a pink nightmare,” Cordelia shivered. “I’m getting the willies just looking at it.”

“Fine,” Elle pouted. She was suddenly bright and chipper again. “Let’s go look at wedding dresses!”

Looking at wedding dresses was not as fun as Elle made it sound. In fact, the entire thing made me a little sick to my stomach and dizzy. It wasn’t that I was happy for Elle or that I was jealous that I never got to pick out a really nice wedding dress of my own. In fact, I had been relieved that I didn’t have to go through the entire process of picking out the perfect dress, the cake, the location, and all that other stuff that had been making usually sunny dispositioned Elle mean and irritable over the past few weeks. Still, the whole being in a wedding dress shop was making me feel ill and the nasty smelling onion rings the woman behind the counter was eating wasn’t helping me keep the nausea down.

“What do you think of this one?” Elle asked us.

“Have you seen the back of it?” Cordelia grimaced. Elle turned around and shrieked at the ugly bow and series of snaps in the back and then ran back into the dressing room to change. “I hope that Dirk doesn’t have as hard a time picking out his tux.”

“Please,” I snorted. “Dirk will probably wear the same tux he wore to his high school prom. He barely puts any effort into anything.”

“Which is why he’s good for Elle,” Cordelia pointed out. “Elle has to do everything herself and since Dirk doesn’t do anything, she’ll do it for him. Probably with a smile on her face too.”

“I have no idea how Elle can be content being Dirk’s little Donna Reed,” I frowned.

“Of course you don’t,” Cordelia laughed. “You couldn’t handle a guy who doesn’t pull his weight. That’s why you have Ben. I mean, Ben’s pretty much self-sufficient and if anything does more for you than you do for him.”

“Hey, I do plenty for Ben,” I frowned. “This morning I taught him how to iron his own socks.”

“Because you weren’t about to iron them for him?” Cordelia smirked.

“I hate ironing. You know that,” I said with disgust. “And yesterday I made dinner.”

“Made dinner or reheated take out?” Cordelia inquired.

“I actually made dinner. Spaghetti,” I replied.

“Did you let Ben eat any of it?” Cordelia asked.

“More than his share,” I frowned. “I was really hungry and he took three fourths of it. He always does that.”

“Ben does have a big stomach,” Cordelia nodded. “Though I think his mouth is bigger than his stomach.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked her absently as Elle trotted out with a wedding dress that looked like it lost a fight with a lawn mower.

“Yesterday he was threatening to beat up one of the new photographer interns because the intern said something about you,” Cordelia shrugged.

“Was it something flattering?” I asked as Elle furiously ran back into the dressing room without even bothering to ask for our opinions on the dress.

“I think it was something flattering about your legs,” Cordelia replied. “I don’t recall exactly. Besides I was hearing it second-hand.”

“Legs would make sense,” I nodded, “because when I came home yesterday Ben was trying to throw out all of my skirts that were shorter than knee length, as if I wouldn’t notice they were gone.”

“That sure sounds like Ben,” Cordelia nodded.

“Oh my God Catt! Remember when we hired that transvestite stripper for Kip’s birthday party that one year?” Elle shouted from the dressing room.

“Yeah and he didn’t know she was a man until they got really close?” I giggled.

“Do you remember the dress she wore?” Elle giggled.

“That hideous plastic-looking hooker dress?” I laughed.

“Ta-da!” Elle said, jumping out of the dressing room wearing a near copy of the plastic hooker dress. The two of us almost fell to the floor laughing but the people at the bridal shop didn’t seem to be too pleased. Of course, it wasn’t like it was our fault they didn’t have a dress that any sensible person would wear out of doors, let alone to a wedding.

Once we had decided the people at the bridal shop did not appreciate our making fun of their merchandise, Elle decided we should just call it a day and go out for lunch. It was Saturday and I had already done all my work for the next week and the week following that. For some reason, after we had left England and returned to Chicago I had launched into work and tried to get as much done as possible. Ben had done the same and at the end of the day it was all we could do to just eat dinner and then go to bed before we passed out from exhaustion. It was nice to have Saturday off so I could relax but then Elle had called me up at the last minute to go dress shopping and I couldn’t say no. I had left Ben a note on the kitchen counter telling him where I was going to be all day but I knew considering how tired Ben had been the night before, he probably wouldn’t wake up until some time around noon. As soon as the hostess sat us in our booth at the restaurant, my cell went off.

“Ben,” Cordelia and Elle said at the same time. I didn’t even need to look at the Caller ID to know they were right. Quietly, I got up and headed over to the area near the bathroom where I knew my conversation wouldn’t disturb any of the fellow restaurant patrons.

“Hello,” I said, a little grumpily. I didn’t know why I was grumpy at Ben all of a sudden but I assumed it was because I was about to get the whole “why did you just run off and only leave a note” lecture Ben gives me when he’s in a particularly needy mood.

“Where are you?” Ben asked me, like he was my mother and I was fourteen and out on a school night at three in the morning.

“I’m eating lunch with Cordelia and Elle at Ristrotos,” I replied.

“The place with the amazing cheesy breadsticks?” Ben said. I could hear his mouth watering over the phone.

“Yes,” I said.

“Have you eaten any of their breadsticks yet?” Ben asked. It was easily the most arbitrary question he had asked me. That day, at least.

“Yes,” I said, wondering what his point was.

“Why are you there without me?” Ben said suddenly offended.

“Because I really didn’t think you’d be up for the torture that is watching Elle try on the ugliest wedding dresses in Chicago,” I replied tiredly.

“I’m not up for that,” Ben said, “but you could have asked me to come eat lunch with you.”

“It’s a girl thing, Ben. You’re not a girl,” I said. “Or at least last time I checked you weren’t. You haven’t become a girl, have you?”

“No, I’m not a girl,” Ben frowned. “Are you at least going to get me some of those cheesy breadsticks?”

“I’ll bring some home in a doggie-bag,” I replied.

“Doggie-bag? What are you saying about me?” Ben said upset.

“Fine. I’ll get a to-go order. Does that make you happy?” I said.

“No need to snap at me, Catt,” Ben said, sounding hurt. “I just wanted to know what you were up to.”

“Sorry,” I sighed, “I’m just a little tired, I guess.”

“You’re not going to be out all day, are you?” Ben asked worriedly.

“No,” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll call you before I come home, okay?”

“Okay,” Ben sighed, “and next time before you leave Catt? Could you at least wake me up and say goodbye rather than leaving a note? It’s so Dear John and I don’t like that.”

“No more notes, got it,” I replied. “I need to go back and order my food now.”

“Okay,” Ben said. “Love you.”

“You too,” I said before hanging up and strolling back over to the booth.

“I wish Dirk checked in on me all the time like Ben does with you,” Elle said.

“You want Dirk to be pathetic and needy and not be able to choose his socks in the morning without your approval? Even though all of his socks look exactly the same?” I snorted.

“Yes,” Elle swooned. “It would be so perfect if Dirk were completely helpless.”

“You want Dirk to be a vegetable?” Cordelia said with raised eyebrows.

“No,” Elle said annoyed. “I just wish he would let me do more for him.”

“You already do everything for him,” I snorted. “And believe me, you’re going to get sick of it. Fast.”

“I don’t think I could ever get sick of Dirk,” Elle shook her head.

“Are you starting to get sick of Ben?” Cordelia asked me curiously.

“No,” I said.

Not that I know of.