My Big Fat Fake Wedding(90)
I laugh and smack her arm at the dirty joke. “Why’s it gotta be my cousins?” I ask before realizing the point. “Oh . . . your family. Yeah, that’d be weird.”
I go through my checklist, reading down the paper the wedding planner taped to the mirror for me. Hair and veil—check. Makeup and teeth brushed—check. Dress—check. Garter and lingerie—check. One glass of champagne—I decided to skip that one, so check.
“Hey, Abi? There’s just one thing left on my list and I’m definitely gonna need some help with it,” I say haltingly.
“What?” she says, reading over my shoulder.
“I need to pee,” I say.
Like the good friend and trooper she is, Abi straightens her back. “Okay, let’s get to it.”
I never thought bathroom stalls were particularly small. Apparently, that’s because I’ve never been inside one with another person plus what seems to be one hundred yards of white fabric. We giggle a lot, I almost pull a hamstring, and ultimately, we end up in some configuration that has me sitting backward on the toilet as I hold the front of the dress and Abi holds the back.
I say a literal prayer of thanks for snap-crotch shapewear, choosing not to think about Abi having to help me re-snap.
We’re close, but not that close. Until today apparently.
I close my eyes, trying to pretend that she’s not actually looking at my ass and that I don’t have an audience so that my shy bladder will do its damn job. But it’s not working.
Abi shuffles my dress to one hand and pulls her phone out with the other.
“Are you taking a picture of my butt?” I scream.
Her eye roll is epic. “No, I’m calling in reinforcements. Yeah, it’s me. Women’s bathroom in the choir room.”
A moment later, the door opens, and I flinch, afraid someone else is going to see my ass. I hiss, “Abi, for fuck’s sake, cover me up. It might be the videographer!”
Archie sighs dramatically. “If only. That would be hilarious.” I don’t kill him because he’s obviously being sarcastic, and you know, I’m currently stuck on a toilet.
“Turn on the water and you can go,” Abi orders him.
I hear all three sinks start gushing water and am struck with inspiration, my bladder finally deciding to perform.
As the door opens once again, I hear Archie call back, “I want a raise, boss lady. A good one, effective two minutes ago.”
I think I hum some agreement, but I can’t be sure over the sound of all the streaming, both the sinks and me.
*
This is utter madness.
Leaving the choir room, I have to walk around the outside of the church in order to get to the back. Yesterday, I walked it in my jeans in a minute, with half of that being Father O’Flannigan talking through the ceremony and slowing me down. The only creature that saw me was a single chipmunk that chittered at us from the big maple in the middle of the church courtyard and a couple of birds flying overhead. It was peaceful and I’d thought it’d be a nice nature break to catch my breath before the ceremony began.
Today, it’s like a prize fighter pushing their way to the ring. Somehow, whether it’s the news coverage, social media, or something I just totally don’t understand, the entire courtyard is crowded with people. At least a hundred people line the concrete walkway, though I can tell someone has worked to keep them back from the actual sidewalk so I can pass safely. But among the faces in the sea of humanity, I only recognize maybe a quarter of them. Why in the world are these people here? They’re not even invited, not going to get inside for the ceremony or the reception. People are so weird sometimes.
The news crew takes the lead, staying several yards ahead and somehow easily walking backward as they film our trek. Of our group, Abi takes the front, plowing her way through the congratulatory hands that want to reach out to touch me, either in genuine affection or to have their momentary brush with temporary celebrity. They call out questions and congratulations and I try to smile, but I’m sure it looks more like I’m baring my teeth.
“Okay, okay, outta the way!” Abi growls as two random strangers pop out to snap photos. “No photos or I’m going to shove that iPhone so deep you’ll need some angelic help to get it out!”
Even from behind her, I hear the news group say, “Did you get that?” Great, way to go, Abi. That’s going to be on the evening news. Delilah assured us the crew would film for our personal memories only, but I have no faith that anything particularly interesting won’t end up on the Sunday Local Wrap-Up first thing in the morning.
The foyer of the church is nearly as bad, but at least the camera crew disappears to go set up in the chapel. Mom is talking to Vanessa, Marissa, and Estella while Archie and Courtney look on uncomfortably. Michael and Anna are sitting off to the side on a small bench, but even from here, I can see that they’re poking and pinching each other while simultaneously trying not to get caught misbehaving.
As I walk up with Abi, I can hear Vanessa’s too-loud whisper. “Ooh, did you see that redhead? I’m telling you, that was a Harvard ring I saw on his finger!”
“And?” Marissa giggles. “Mine’s got a big Marine Corps tattoo on his shoulder.”
“Wait, how’d you see John’s tattoo?” Courtney asks, sucked into the conversation. “Or do I want to ask?”