Chapter #9The Wedding by: imaj   You wake slowly and hazily, emerging from a pleasant dream the details of which seem to slip away as you gain wakefulness. Sunlight peeks round at the edges of the curtains. You roll in the bed, a grin forming on your face as the memories of last night filter inside your head.
There’s no one there, just an empty space where the bed covers have been moved aside. The smile fades from your face and you prop yourself up on your elbows, slowly becoming aware of the sticky mess on the sheets at groin level. There is no sign of the workman, not in the hotel room and not in the adjoining en-suite bathroom.
You slide over to the edge of the bed, wrapping the covers round you and get up off it. They trail behind you as you walk away, looking for traces of the workman’s passing. His toolbox and stepladder are gone too and you can only assume he has abandoned you. You shouldn’t care, it was just a one night stand after all – a way to make yourself feel better after another rejection from Joe. There’s just something about his disappearance that leaves you feeling hollow though. You sigh and run your hand along the dressing table opposite the bed.
That’s when you spot the note.
It’s a piece of the hotel’s headed notepaper, folded in half and placed on the dressing table. Your name is written on it in angular, hurried lettering. Your curiosity sparked, you flip open the letter and start reading.
Siobhan, it reads, I’m sorry for running out before you woke up. As much as I want to, I can’t stay. I’m running now, as far as I can. I can’t say anymore than that. You snort derisively, but continue to read. Please take my advice. Take your little girl and get away from here too. She doesn’t deserve what is going to happen here. I hope I’ll see you again some day, Bobby.
You shake your head and laugh: “She doesn’t deserve what’s going to happen here”? Stars, if the workman wanted to sneak off without saying goodbye he should have done so. The pseudo secret agent letter is just nonsense. You screw the paper up into a ball and throw it into a wastebasket. As the letter hits the base of the bin you remember that you never asked the workman his name. So that was Bobby, you think to yourself.
Not that it matters.
You discard the bedding, letting it slip to the floor and walk naked to the en-suite bathroom. A shower will help you clean up and refresh yourself. There’s so much to do before the wedding after all.
*****
In truth, the last few days before the wedding pass in a blur. You spend some time at the dressmakers with Rosalie, Malaika, Imogen and Bea getting the fit of your dresses finalised. The staid and relaxed atmosphere of that is sharp contrasted the following evening at Rosalie’s bachelorette party. Though the male stripper you hire for the event is entirely non-magical, he still leaves Rosalie a little green at the gills after his performance. Since you can’t skip the hangover from the party this time, you spend the day after mostly in bed whilst Hilda takes the girls on a day trip – Her Malacandran constitution lets her weather the worst effects of drink with ease. That brings you up to the day of the wedding.
You find yourself waiting patiently in the vestibule of the small church that Rosalie and Joe have picked for the wedding. On the surface it reminds you of the last church you were in, the one in Cuthbert. The brief recollection is enough to disturb the remains of Grandma Shabbleman’s imago in your mind. They press dangerously close for a second, and you almost fancy you hear the wizened old crone cackling, but you are able to push them away with ease and remain Siobhan.
In fact, to your Eldibrian senses, this church is an entirely different place. The church in Cuthbert was stained with the killings that took place there. It was oppressive and sickening. The air here is lighter and more balanced: The solemnity of regular services mix with the linger aura of happiness left by weddings. There is the slightest tinge of sadness left behind from funerals.
“I like it here,” says Bea brightly. You place and arm round her shoulder and pull her close. “Is Rosalie going to be much longer?”
“I’ll check,” you reply, letting your arm slip from Bea.
First you draw back the curtain that leads inside the church a fraction and take a peak. The guests have all arrived now. There are not many, but they fill the small church well enough. At the very front of, right up by the altar, Joe and Frank wait. The brothers are bedecked in dressy suits. Joe fidgets nervously, perhaps the first time you’ve seen him so ill at ease in a long time. Frank looks around with passive disinterest. You know him too well to be taken in by that. He’s scanning the windows, the doors, looking out for potential trouble out of habit. His gaze catches your own and he raises an eyebrow. You shake your head and pull the curtain closed.
You step outside for a moment. It is a beautiful summer day – the sun is shining and there are only a handful of light fluffy clouds in the sky. You bask in the warmth for a moment before scanning the road at the bottom of the steps that lead down from the church. Sure enough, a long white car is drawing to a halt there.
“She’s here,” you call back inside. Bea comes running over, slipping round in front of you. She waves frantically at the car as Malaika and Imogen come over as well.
Charles steps out of the car first. No one knows what happened to Rosalie’s father, but given what happened in Cuthbert three years ago, he’s almost certainly dead. Charles is filling in. He walks round to the opposite door and opens it, offering Rosalie a hand to help her out.
A chorus of gasps comes from the girls’ mouths as Rosalie steps out of the car. You’ve already seen her dress at the fitting sessions, but even you are amazed by the way Rosalie looks. Her hair is piled artfully atop her head, with stray bangs framing her face. She’s discarded her glasses for the day, presumably in favour of contacts. The dress is beautiful, a pure white, strapless affair that subtly enhances her frame. But the most important part is simply the way she holds herself – her poise, the way she walks, it’s all so effortlessly in control. She spots Bea, still waving frantically, and waves graciously back at her.
You go back inside the vestibule, leaving the girls outside to watch Rosalie approach. Twitching back the curtain, you try to catch Frank’s eye. He spots you quickly and shows a rare grin when you nod. He give Joe a nudge in turn. You have to put your hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh when Joe almost jumps out of his skin.
It all seems to go so quickly after that, almost as if it were a dream. Rosalie arrives in the vestibule and you push the curtains to the side. Rosalie enters the church as you push the curtains aside. Rosalie walks up the aisle, trailed by you and the girls. Rosalie smiles at Joe, leaving him with a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. Rosalie reaches the altar and you file in beside her.
Your mind starts to drift as the pastor begins his service. His voice has a toneless droning quality that makes him easy to ignore and you find yourself daydreaming. Old memories flit through your head. Some happy, others sad, but most revolve around Joe and Rosalie. You idly wonder what it would be like if you were standing there in wedding dress in Rosalie’s place. Then you think what it would be like if you were the one getting married to Rosalie, with Joe standing beside you as your best man.
You don’t let the thoughts trouble you much. What would be the point anymore? Instead you just stand there with a faint smile and lidded eyes. Perhaps it is time to let go. Your best friend and your sister are getting married – you should be happy for both of them. You let your smile grow and your mind rest.
The doddering old pastor’s words start to register on your consciousness again. He’s almost at the end of the wedding now, and his voice grows more urgent as he reaches the home stretch. “Is there anyone,” he asks. “Who knows of a reason why these two should not be wed?”   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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