Elly in Love. Colleen Oakes

      “Be nice. They’re artists.”

      Snarky Teenager looked around. “I think I saw some concrete blocks by the entrance. Let me go look.” Without warning, she let go of the sculpture and ran toward the entrance. It was so easy for skinny girls to run.

      Elly was left holding up the giant art piece, both arms stretched out to full length, her body pressed against its side in an intimate fashion, and her hand wrapped around the metal, er, handle, the only grip on the statue. Fantastic, thought Elly, I’m violating a wedding arch in the middle of a field. She leaned her forehead against the corrugated metal. How exactly did I get here again? In spite of herself, she smiled as a bead of sweat dripped off her nose. It had been an interesting journey, that was for sure. Last year had almost ended Elly: Her best friend Kim had quit Posies because she was pregnant. Elly had dated Isaac, the world’s most self-absorbed musician, only to end up with Keith, the owner of the deli next door. And to top it all off, she had been hired to do that wedding. All of this was while properly grieving the death of her mother, Sarah Jordan, from ovarian cancer. Yes, that year had almost been the death of her, but she had come out the other side feeling confident, adored and … a little heavier. Since dating Keith (two and a half amazing months and counting!), she had gained three pounds. Having a boyfriend who made sandwiches for a living was not great for the waistline. Luckily, they took a lot of walks together, so hopefully it all evened out in the end. Elly grimaced as her feet began slipping in the dusty ground. She heard a raspy voice echoing through the swirled metal.

      “Is the florist here? Can I talk to her? Where is she?”

      Elly turned her head and saw the mother of the bride walking briskly toward her. Oh no. Try to look like this is totally normal. She let a brilliant smile play across her rust-smudged face. “Hello, Ms. Keenan, how are you?”

      The bride’s mother was by far the most unlaid-back hippie that Elly had ever met. Her long dress, made of several different layered pieces of truly hideous fabric, brushed the ground as she shuffled over. Ms. Keenan put her hand on her hip and stared down at Elly as her wrist bangles twinkled in the sun. “Is there a problem with the arch? Why are you leaning against it that way? And why are you holding the …?” Her eyebrow arched quizzically and Elly was convinced that she would end up on the news that evening, the crazed florist who went around accosting large metal structures.

      Elly put on an assured face. “Oh, we’re just making sure it’s a bit more secure, that’s all. My assistant just went to grab some….” Her eyes widened as she saw Snarky Teenager pushing toward them a cart with two dilapidated cinder blocks. “Some supports.” Removing one hand as the statue leaned up against her, she gestured wildly to Snarky Teenager, who quickly pushed the cart into the bushes, disappearing just before the Ms. Keenan got a good look at her. Elly eyed the main building. “You should go make sure that Jonna is okay. I know from experience that a bride needs her mother on her wedding day.” The mother scowled with skepticism.

      “Everything will be ready in …,” she glanced at her watch, “thirty minutes?”

      Elly nodded, displaying much more confidence that she felt. “It’s going to be gorgeous.” Ms. Keenan gave an exasperated sigh and headed back for the building. Elly felt her legs shaking beneath her, and a tremor ripped down her tan arms. This crap piece of art is not going to be upright for much longer. Snarky Teenager poked her head out from around the bushes.

      “Hurry!” Elly yelled. “I’m going to drop it!”

      Snarky Teenager pushed the cart over the grass, jogging steadily. Elly quietly thought to herself that while she was not ecstatic about holding up this hunk of twisted metal, she was glad that she wasn’t running.

      Snarky Teenager peered at her face. “You are, like, so red. Are you going to have a heart attack?”

      Elly gave a loud groan. “What am I paying you for? Set up the blocks! Now! Before I drop it!” The concrete blocks slid into place on either side of the structure, with Snarky Teenager securing them in what seemed like slow motion. Finally, her blond assistant stepped back and let out a puff of air. “Okay. Let it go.”

      Her arms feeling more like spaghetti than muscle, Elly released the sensual sculpture into the air, saying a silent prayer while waiting for the resulting crash. It never came. She stepped back. Twisting metal rose up feet above her head and came back down in an elegant cascade, dozens of naked bodies entwined and dancing along the edges. Elly peered at it. “It’s actually kind of pretty.” She paused.

      Snarky Teenager squinted in the sun. “I’m pretty sure my cat could make that.”

      Elly gave a sigh. “All right, let’s get to work.” She was answered with a loud moan.

      Working briskly beside one another in a perfected dance, Elly and Snarky Teenager transformed the bare field—it’s overgrown, yellow-green grass blowing in the wind—into an organic and modern ceremony site. Natural fruitwood chairs fanned out from the art piece, their bases surrounded by tiny succulents, accented with sharp pieces of black bamboo. The metal arch stood starkly against a bright-blue sky, which looked hazy with the rising humidity. Several ferns were placed around the base of the arch. Elly glanced up while repotting a succulent. “Oh. That looks great—I can’t even see the cinder blocks.”

      Snarky Teenager stepped back to admire her work, her skirt hiked up so that she was almost mooning Elly. Who wears a skirt to a wedding delivery, Elly thought.

      “Of course you can’t see them! I know. I’m, like, so amazing.”

      Elly laughed. “Could you be amazing at pulling your skirt down? I’m going blind over here. Help me finish with the garland and we can head inside.”

      Snarky Teenager halfheartedly yanked her skirt down before tying a hemp garland across the aisle. Elly stood up and brushed off her khaki pants. Smiling, she pushed the damp hair off her face and hummed quietly to herself. She stopped when she realized that Snarky Teenager was staring at her. This alarmed Elly. “What are you staring at? Aren’t you supposed to be misting the plants?”

      “Nothing.” A sly grin crawled across the teenager’s face.

      “No really, do I have soil on my face?” Elly looked around for a mirror. There was a reflective statue across the park that she could walk to….

      “No, really. It’s just …,” Snarky Teenager smiled. “You’re sweaty and you’re smiling. What I mean is, you’re never happy when you’re sweating. You’re always a snappy, miserable beast.”

      “This is getting better and better,” Elly mumbled as she quickly fashioned a decorative wreath out of curly willow.

      “Elly.”

      Elly looked up, surprised. Snarky Teenager actually sounded quite sincere.

      “I just wanted to say I’m glad to see that Keith is making you so happy. If you’re smiling when you are covered in sweat, then he must be doing something right.”

      Elly couldn’t hide the blush bubbling up from below her cheeks. Yes, he was definitely doing something right.

      Snarky Teenager began jumping from foot to foot. “Okay, enough of that—is it groomsmen time yet? Is it?”

      Elly laughed. “Okay, okay, we’re going. Try to keep the hormones in check. I don’t want to be responsible for any sexual harassment suits. You know, against you.”

      Snarky Teenager nodded. “Gotcha.”

      Once they were in the sculpture museum, Snarky Teenager bolted for the groomsmen, boutonnieres in hand, while Elly followed a winding cement hallway to a room washed in natural light. It reeked of patchouli and incense. Three women stood clustered around a dilapidated easel mirror, all staring at themselves. Elly crept in silently and placed the bridal bouquet—an asymmetrical masterpiece, filled with olives and olive leaves, tiny oranges, succulents, plum grapes, and dripping moss—on the desk. She turned to leave, coughing awkwardly