A Name to Remember

The venue rose up from the rocky shore of the bay like a grey whale formed from right angles. A mausoleum to her life. As they neared, Stephanie, a child of the 80s, had the urge to blurt out, “Turn right!” but the digital display on the Uber’s dashboard was already displaying a bullseye on their destination: The Cannery in Sausalito. A wedding venue.

It was good to know their Midwestern money worked here to buy a chunk of the San Francisco Bay coastline, at least for a few days. She straightened her back, remembering who she was, the Chancellor of Kenosha Area Technical College – the company that was paying for this, even if KATC wasn’t on the billboard outside. Instead, the sign outside simply read: Congratulations on the Wedding of Bea and Stephen! 

Looking at her daughter’s name made her smile, and if Stephen made her happy, his name too. She noticed her own foot anxiously tapping the floormat. She willed it to stop.  

Inside, dozens of guests mingled in the lobby. As she decided on which person to talk to first, out of nowhere, Bill appeared. 

“Hi, Stephanie! Glad you could come.” Bill greeted her as if she were a distant second cousin. “And I believe you’ve never met Emma.”

Emma, this was that Emma, beamed, “Stephanie," she tipped her head graciously. "You look gorgeous!”

“Apparently not gorgeous enough…”

“Gorgeous! And I love your hair. And isn’t it a happy day for your daughter?” She squeezed Bill’s hand. “Our daughter.”

She looked down at Bill's hand in Emma's. More than a decade together– Christmases, Thanksgivings, vacations, births, wedding. All gone. Isn't life strange? Now, he looked at her with the attentiveness of a medical receptionist. 

“Mom, it looks like you want to murder someone!” Bea, her daughter, appeared, stepping in to interrupt their awkward encounter, though the joke only made it worse.

“I would die for a piece of cheesecake over there,” Stephanie said, forcing a curt smile and moving over to the buffet table as fast as she could without stumbling in high heels. Instead of comfort food or dessert, she found rows of tiny pieces of hard toast topped with smoked salmon and avocado. Awful, but these were her appetizers. The ones her money paid for her daughter's wedding.

Staring at the platters, her mind drifted back to the day she first told Bill about KATC, the family business. “My lips are sealed,” he promised. Everyone in town assumed the school was a government institution because of the name. They didn’t know their fifteen grand tuition payments— mostly from desperate parents hoping their kids who had flunked out of UW would someday be employable — went straight into her family’s pocket. Faculty salaries were cheap too. A parallel track of mediocrity who didn’t manage to land a teaching position at UW and lived with the vain hope they’d get picked up someday. 

Millions of dollars a year of lost hope flowed into the Jensen family’s pockets. The family made charity donations in Kenosha for decades and were always reported on as variations of the word “respectable".

And now, because of their divorce, half of the family estate would go to Bill. Bill, whose lips were no longer sealed but instead all over Emma's.

Turgid thoughts swirled through her mind when a sudden tug on her shoulder almost caused her to drop her avocado toastie. 

“Mom, come meet my friends from high school.” Bea was there beaming. “They’ve all flown in from Wisconsin.”

Stephanie went through the motions. By the time the opening reception was nearly finished, she was exhausted. She pretended to listen to the aunts and uncles and cousins who had busily updated her on the activities of each other. Her eyes were mostly fixated on the front table, where Bill and Bea, father and daughter, sat next to each other.

Even their names rhymed. They always shared an understanding that she couldn’t fathom. While speaking words she could only guess at, she noticed Bill nod to Bea, who stood up and snaked her way through the dining room toward Stephanie, then dropped into the empty seat next to her. “Hi Mom, just wanted to keep you company. How’s the fish?”

And then it happened. Before Stephanie could reply with a nice comment about the food, a sharp clink-clink echoed through the room. Bill was standing up to make a toast. 

“I’d like to make a toast to my lovely daughter Bea, and to Stephen, that wonderful man over there who will be joining our family.” Polite applause rippled through the room. “And, I’d like to use this occasion to announce my engagement to the truly lovely woman next to me, Emma.”  

The crowd erupted in raucous cheers. Cheers for my replacement. Stephanie out, Emma, and Stephen, in. 

"Sorry, Mom."

Stephanie leaned into her daughter. “Did you choose him on purpose because of his name?” 

“Choose who?” Bea asked.

“He has a nice name. Stephen. Similar to mine.”

“Oh!” Bea smiled, catching her point. “I know this day must be hard for you, Mom. You know Dad. Dad always loves to be saving people.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but Emma has had a real tough time with lupus.”

“Really?”

“She can’t get out of bed most days.”

“And what was my problem?” Stephanie asked flatly. "With me?"

Bea’s eye darted to a linen napkin on the table. “Mom, you don’t have a problem…” 

“Sure, honey,” Stephanie said, knowing her daughter was just trying to be kind. “And what about the groom, Steve, any issues?”

“You know. Addiction. Just guy stuff,” Bea whispered.

“People like us, we can manage,” Stephanie mumbled, almost to herself. “The Jensen family is strong.”

"Yep, we are survivors!" Bea concurred.

Was that true? Stephanie sipped her Chardonnay, her eyes scanning the room.

She was being replaced by a woman who couldn’t get out of bed most days, and by a groom who was an addict. The only strong person in the room was Bill, and he was a traitor.

Combinations ran in her mind. If Bill died before his wedding, his shares in KATC would revert to her. If they both died, their shares would go to Bea. But then what about Steve? She couldn’t trust addict Steve. If Steve died on the day Bill announced his engagement that would surely jinx his plan to marry Emma. But Steve didn’t do anything to her; Bill did. And Emma. And Bea let it happen. So many names to juggle. It would take a genius to figure out this mess.  

Her fingers strayed to the front pocket of her purse and fidgeted with the prescription bottle of fentanyl. The ones she had been saving since her hip arthroplasty. She could handle physical pain, but emotional pain was a totally different story.

As she used to teach students, any action is better than no action. If she did nothing, she would be left living in the worst of all possible worlds. 

She stared at the man Bea chose, Stephen, with his smug, triumphant grin and made her decision.

She stood up from the table and walked out toward the terrace to compose herself. When she stepped back into the dining hall, Bea was waiting for her anxiously.

“I’m fine, Bea,” Stephanie said, her voice smooth, her posture perfect. She offered a tight, reassuring smile. “Now, I’m going to go up to congratulate Bill and Emma. Then I’m coming right back for you and Stephen.”