Through the walls of the motel they could hear the shrieks of the organizers as panic set in, simmering to laughter and chatter, then ramping up to the sounds of the polka band. Isabel argued with Daria about what to wear, whether to bother with makeup in this humidity, and whether a nap wouldn’t be a better option than a tiny bit more tequila. For Jonny a nap was out of the question. His father laid out a burgundy tuxedo jacket with pants, pleated shirt, and cummerbund on his bed while his mother sent him on last minute runs for ice. In the garden a large rug of green artificial turf was staked out over the dirt. Lights were strung from the motel to the trees to the house. Ladders were held, blossoms were spritzed. Kiki and Frances came early to help. Kiki was drafted to slice up a batch of Rose Petal Sandwiches while Frances searched the town for spare lamps for the twinkle lights. You would have thought it was Christmas, except for fireflies, mosquitoes, and ninety-nine-percent humidity.
