“Some Weddings Are A Bitch”
By Sara Ney and ME Carter
Copyright 2015
The Early Years
“Son of a bitch!” Becky yells as she slams our hot pink phone back on its cradle.
“I take it that didn’t go well?” I ask sarcastically, taking her interruption as an opportunity to close my Designer Dynamics textbook. DD is my favorite class and one that I actually study for; but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to take a short break.
Finals are killing me softly.
Becky marches into our apartment’s tiny kitchen with a huff, slamming her backpack onto the table. “My mother wants me to wear pink taffeta. Taffeta! Ugh, who wears pink taffeta to a beach wedding? No one, that’s who!”
I shudder at the thought, but am try to stay positive. “It’s your mother’s wedding, Becky,” I point out for the millionth time. She’s been bitching about this destination wedding for weeks. It’s going to be in Jamaica
Where it’s one hundred sweltering degrees.
And she wants Becky to wear a long, pink, taffeta dress with puffy sleeves. “If it makes her happy, just do it.”
“That’s all fine and good in theory, but let me remind you—this is her third wedding, Janine. Numero tres,” she says this with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I would be way more forgiving and just wear the damn dress if this wasn’t becoming a… thing.”
Poor Becky.
Her parents got divorced when she was really young and since then, it’s been one marriage disaster after another. Between her mother and father, this will be the fifth time she’s been a bridesmaid. Third as maid of honor.
Her parent’s first wedding—to each other? Technically she attended that, too, as a very visible bump underneath her mother’s virginal white wedding dress.
“So…. have you met your new dad yet?” I tease, giggling.
Becky glowers. “I hate you.”
She does not.
Becky and I have been best friends since freshman year—we were randomly paired together as roommates during the room lotto. It was ‘loathing at first sight’; she took one look at me and decided I was too uptight and serious—and I couldn’t stand her constant cursing. Shit, damn, and… the other word—are her favorite adverbs, adjectives, and nouns.
I mean, you can’t really blame us for butting heads—we both have strong personalities. But now we’re inseparable.
“Don’t pout, I’m only kidding.” I rise from the table, root through the cabinet for a pack of Raman, and begin the process of shaking the hard noodles into a bowl, filling it with water, and dumping in the tiny packet of chicken flavor. I give the bowl a little whiff.
A culinary delight in under two minutes.
Yummo.
I glance at her over my shoulder as I set my bowl in the microwave, and hit Start. The microwave whirs to life. “So? Have you?”
“Just once,” she admits, pulling the Ace of Base CD off our CD tower, popping it into the player, and hitting play. “His name is Cody. He’s kind of a computer geek.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?” We’ve been told by a few of our college professors that computers are going to replace Word Processors and type writers, but Becky has a I have to see it to believe it attitude.
“There’s nothing wrong with that but… I mean. He reads comic books and shit. I just don’t picture my mom with someone so geeky.”
“Okay…” my voice trails off. “But didn’t you say he’s romantic?”
Becky sighs. “Yeah, I guess. Cody writes her poems and stuff, and when he proposed…”
I lean my elbows on the table, waiting for her to continue.
“When he proposed it was with a passage from her favorite book. She totally flipped her shit over it. Practically mauled him with kisses saying yes. So I mean. He’s fine.”
Wow Becks, I think. Try to curb your enthusiasm.
“Just fine?” The microwave dings, and I straighten. My carbo-licious dinner is served!
“Not much difference between Cody and her last boyfriend,” she explains loudly as our favorite song blares into the room. “Simon was some sort of engineer or something. Works with computers.”
I shove a forkful of noodles into my mouth, speaking around my fork. “So she likes smart guys.”
A noodle escapes and falls onto my shirt, hanging lifelessly by the fibers of my bulky, oversized Eddie Bauer sweater.
Oops.
Becky shrugs. “I guess—but I mean, how much money can you really make in computers?” Now she’s rolling her eyes. “Seriously. Pretty sure mankind has used up every good money making idea already. Websites aren’t going to be a thing. Ugh, like, duh Cody.”
“True,” I agree to be supportive, adding an ice cube to my scalding hot, albeit delicious, noodles. Giddy, I can hardly wait to twist them around my fork and stuff another bite into my open mouth. “Although… I’ve heard buzz about this thing called the Internet. You can send information really quickly anywhere around the world with the click of a button. And chat to people you’ve never met.”
“So what? That’s what telephones are for, Janine.” Becky scoffs with a flip of her wild and crimpy, blond hair. “Instant technology is nothing new, Janine. Take fax machines for example: we’re had those for years. No way is the Internet going to make those obsolete any time soon.”
Yeah, that’s what my dad says, too.
But still… I can’t help but wonder…
I inhale a long string of noodles, juice dripping over my bowl, and groan out a satisfied moan. “Hey, maybe you could go dress shopping and find something else? Would she be cool with that? I mean, she’s not the one who has to wear it.”
At the door, there’s a short rap followed by the jiggling of the doorknob. Within seconds, our friend Jennifer Stiltner comes barreling in the door, arms loaded down with magazines.
Without saying a word, she marches through our tiny apartment, and we both crane our necks to see her dumping the magazines all over Becky’s bed.
“Dammit, Stiltner!” Becky curses, rising from the table, and following Stiltner into her bedroom. Her arms are flapping all over the place. “What the hell is all that?”
“I heard you talking to your mom on the phone about her wedding—congrats, by the way,” Stiltner says with sass, snapping her gum. She barely notices Becky cross her arms with a hmmph. Instead, she prattles on. “I kind of figured you weren’t jazzed about it so I brought some bridal magazines over to get your excited.” She picks up one and begins flipping through it. “I have some of the pages dog-eared already.”
I pick up a glossy, colorful magazine with ‘Alfred Angelo’ clearly printed at the top. I’ve heard his stuff is fantastic so this is a great place to start. “Why do you have all these?” I ask her. I’ve seriously never seen so many magazines in one place in my life. Except at the 7/11.
“You know my roomie Helen is only enrolled here to get her Mrs. degree,” Becky and I just roll our eyes at her roommate’s educational goals—which are to find a husband and quit school. “I know, I know. I too find it ridiculous,” Stiltner laughs. “But she is determined to find the love of her life by next year—which would be super since she’s always fucking cooking bacon and stinking up our entire apartment. She’s like a freaking wife, always making breakfast and shit.”
Stiltner plops down on the bed, causing several magazines to fall to the carpet.
“Anyways, I figured I could help you find a dress that maybe you’d take me with you to Jamaica. Or wherever.”
She grins.
We all sit around flipping through the magazines in silence for a few minutes. No doubt we’re all dreaming of our own beautiful wedding. Well, maybe not Becky. She’s so anti-marriage these days, it’s getting ridiculous.
“Oooh,” Stiltner says, breaking me out of my thoughts of wedded bliss. “Check out this Alfred Angelo dress. These puffed sleeves are amazing.”
I lean over Stiltner’s shoulder, and immediately understand what made the dress stand out to her. Metallic green with an emerald glow, it has a sweetheart neckline and tons of appliques covered in intricate beading. Cocktail length, the skirt puffs out below the waistline in layer after green metallic layer.
It shimmers and shines and is…
Divine.
“Becks,” I breathe out dreamily. “This would look so fabulous on you!” I run my fingers over the magazine pages. “It would totally bring out your eyes. It’s perfect.”
“Yes,” she replies. “Yes! It’s perfect for the maid of honor in a first wedding. But not the third.” My roommate pouts, jutting out her bottom lip. “Why can’t they do a courthouse marriage like all the other moms getting married and remarried?” she whines.
All the other moms getting married and remarried?
I can’t help it; I laugh.
“Just because her first marriage didn’t work out—”
“—and second marriage,” she interrupts, thrusting a finger in the air to illustrate her point.
I ignore her and continue. “—doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be celebrated when someone finds true love. Or someone that makes them happy.”
Becky just makes an indignant pfft sound. “First of all, I’m not convinced this is true love. My mother goes through men like you go through Ramen. Like Stiltner goes through flannel shirts.” Second, I’m not saying it shouldn’t be celebrated. I’m just saying she’s already done this. She’s already had the fairytale wedding with the giant dress and the open bar.”
“Ooh, they’re having an open bar?” Stiltner interjects, trying to sound casual and uninterested—and failing miserably. She’s hell bound and determined to score an invite to this shindig—just for the booze.
Typical Stiltner.
“Focus,” Becky snaps her fingers in her direction. “I’m just saying—my mother obviously doesn’t have the best track record. It would be awesome if she would tone it down. Why does she have to do a destination? Why not just go to the justice of the peace or whatever they do at the court house?”
Stiltner and I gasp simultaneously, covering our mouths. “How could you even suggest that?” I whisper in disbelief. “No wedding should be at the courthouse.”
“Pfffttt…” Becky says. “Then you will be sorely disappointed when I get married. I’ll be heading to the courthouse in my jeans and ugly white shirt. I’d rather focus on the marriage vows than the wedding.”
“Well,” I say, “You just be ready to wear the most expensive, most beautiful gown you’ve even seen when I get married. There will be no skimping when it comes to my wedding!”
“What if its your second marriage?” she asks me.
Ok, now she’s just goading me.
“I’ve told you before—that will never happen,” I enthuse, stabbing a thumb into my chest adamantly. “When I get married, it’s forever. No re-do, no second wedding. No divorce.”
“Good luck with that,” Stiltner mumbles under her breath, flipping through another magazine. “I think Beck’s parents are living proof that it doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.”
I shake my head. “No offence, but her parents are crazy.”
Becky throws herself back onto her bed, then stares up at the ceiling. Up at the poster of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. “True. Which is why my mother chose pink taffeta for a beach wedding.”
I smile. “Which is why we’re going to propose Alfred Angelo with puffed sleeves.” I pat her leg in a show of support. Or because I’m sick of listening to her bitch. “Come on, let’s find you a dress for a wedding.”
16 Eventful Years Later…….
A summer wedding would be nice. But that’s pushing it. Maybe early fall. Ooh! Outdoor wedding in late September—that would be a lovely pop of color with the leaves turning orange and red…. We could keep the costs down and do most of it ourselves. Shoot, I need to see if Father Janes is available; he does the best wedding sermons…
I glance up from doodling notes as a loud, familiar voice interrupts my musings.
“BECKY!” my best friend yells at me across the table. I look up at her and Dan in confusion.
“Huh?”
Janine just rolls her eyes as he smirks. “I said, ‘What are you doing?’ You look lost in thought and you’re writing shit down. It’s making me nervous.”
I push my pen and paper away from me towards the wall, hiding it from her, and pick up my spoon again, scooping up some Chocolate Decadence. I love this stuff. “I’m jotting down ideas for the wedding. If we want to do a fall wedding before it snows, we’re gonna have to book it to get it all set up.”
“Hold up,” she says putting her hands up. “First of all, I got engaged all of ten seconds ago. The tears haven’t even dried off Jeremiah’s cheeks.”
“It was just a beautiful proposal,” my husband says with a sniff as he wipes his cheeks with his fingers. I just roll my eyes. I love my husband, but sometimes he can be such a Nancy.
After three years of marriage to a total cheating jack ass followed by a string of bad dates, Janine finally found the true love of her life in the last place she expected it…work. I am more than happy for her. I’m ecstatic. So now that the proposal was out of the way, of course it’s time to plan an extravaganza! We don’t have time to waste!
“Second of all,” she continues, “Who said I want to have a big wedding? Maybe I just want to go to the courthouse?”
I gasp and hold my hand to my heart. “Why? Why would you want to do that to me, Janine?”
She looks over at her boyfriend, er, fiancé, Dan and lifts his eyes at him in silent communication. I’ve been waiting years for her to have a relationship where they have silent communication. It makes my heart happy.
Even if she is dashing my hopes about having a wedding.
Dan turns back to look at me. “Becky, we’ve both been married before. Why would we need to have a big wedding?”
I raise my eyebrows in challenge. “Why? Why, you ask?”
“Aaaand here we go,” says Jeremiah quietly. I ignore him and continue on.
“Why don’t you ask your fiancée Janine why you need to have a big wedding.”
He looks at her in confusion and she rolls her eyes, clearly not feeling the need to give him an answer. So I do.
“Because I need a do-over,” I practically shout, slapping my hand down on the table.
“I’m confused,” Dan says. Poor, poor Dan. Lovely guy. Perfect for Janine. Not all the bright when it comes to keeping up with the two of us. “Didn’t you have your own wedding? I’ve seen the pictures on Janine’s mantle.”
Point one goes to Janine for having pictures of me in my fabulous wedding gown over her fireplace.
“You looked fantastic at your wedding,” he says. “And it looks like you were having a good time.”
“She doesn’t want a do-over of her own wedding,” Janine interjects, mouth full of Chocolate Decadence.
Damn it! When did she swipe my dessert? Rude.
“She wants a do-over of my wedding.”
“You know those bridesmaid dresses were atrocious,” I say quickly pointing at her across the table.
“A dark blue crinoline with an empire waist? I would hardly call those dresses atrocious,” she says completely missing my point. “Stunning is more like it.”
“Not when you’re seven months pregnant,” I whisper-yell. “With twins! It had puffy sleeves and it crinkled when I walked. I looked and sounded like a freaking elephant! You. Owe. Me.”
She drops her spoon down on my empty plate. The plate she emptied. Damnit! She ate it all when I wasn’t looking. Sneaky bitch. “Look, it’s not my fault Jeremiah got you knocked up practically the minute I got engaged to that-whom-shall-not-be-named.”
“Yeah! High five for knocking up my wife,” Jeremiah says reaching over the table to slap Dan’s hand. Janine and I ignore the loud slap of their hands connecting.
“Nor is it my fault that his swimmers were fast enough to give you two babies at once.”
“Yeah!” Jeremiah says again. “High five for good swimmers!”
I roll my eyes at him as Janine’s phone buzzes with an incoming text message. I sit back, eyeing my empty dessert plate with a scowl. How does she always manage to swipe my dessert? Oh well. I guess these hips didn’t need it anyway.
“Uh, Becky?” Janine say, still looking at her phone. “Why is my mother texting me…. angry that I didn’t tell her about my engagement?”
“What?”
She reads the text out loud. “Janine…why am I hearing about you getting married to this Dan person from Aunt Tanya?” Janine looks up from her phone, confused. “How does she I’m engaged?”
Janine’s mom has met Dan numerous times in the six months they’ve been a couple, but for whatever reason she insists on calling him “this Dan person”. None of us can figure out why she hasn’t connected Dan with “love of Janine’s life”. It’s perplexing, to say the least.
Dan turns the screen of his phone that he’s been fiddling with towards her. “Probably because there are pictures of our proposal on Facebook.”
Janine’s jaw drops and she snatches his phone out of his hand, swiping the screen multiple times.
“Becky, how could you?” she screeches. “I’ve been engaged for less than ten minutes and you’ve already blasted all over the internet before I can announce it?”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t put it on your Facebook page, Janine. I put it on mine.”
“You tagged me in the pictures!”
“So?” I say, still not understanding why she’s mad. “I wanted you to be able to find them.” Jeez, what is she so upset about? “No one can see them except you.”
She smacks her hand on her face and shakes her head before speaking again. “Becky, when you tag me, that means any of my friends and family can see it, too.”
I feel my face blanch a little, and give my head a shake. “No they can’t.”
Everyone stares at me like I’m… an idiot.
“How did you not know that?” Jeremiah asks me, eyebrows raised.
“She signed me up last week,” I argue, trying hard to hide my embarrassment at my latest snafu just as Dan’s phone chirps. “I haven’t figured out how it all works yet.”
“Uh, honey,” Janine says as she stares down at Dan’s phone which is still in her hand. “Looks like she tagged you as well.”
“Oh god,” he says putting his arm around her and looking over her shoulder at the screen. “My mother saw it.”
“Is she mad?” I whisper in horror. This just keeps getting worse.
“Um,” he clears his throat. “According to her text she’s pretty…not happy.”
I lean my elbows on the table and put my face in my hands “Ohmygod, you guys. I didn’t know.”
“Hey,” Janine says leaning over the table and pulling my hand away. “So you totally and completely screwed up. This is nothing new.”
I raise my eyebrow at her. If she’s trying to make me feel better, she’s terrible at it.
“You didn’t know. It’s ok. We’re not mad,” Janine continues.
“No, but my mom is,” Dan says as he frantically types out a response to her message.
Janine shoots him a glare. “Is she mad because she found out you asked me to marry you on the internet? Or just because you’re marrying me in general?”
Instead of answering, he grabs his glass and takes a long drink, presumably to avoid answering.
“Great. Just great,” Janine says. “I told you she didn’t like me.”
“Hey now,” Dan says trying to head off her pending meltdown. “She doesn’t not like you. She just…”
“Likes your ex-wife more?” Janine stares him down while he crinkles his nose. Apparently he will neither confirm nor deny this information. Which basically means she’s right.
“There,” Jeremiah interjects. “I took the picture down. That doesn’t fix everything, but maybe it wards off any more family members getting pissed.”
“How did you do that?” I ask. “How did you get into my account?”
He snorts. “It wasn’t hard to guess the password. You use the same password for everything.”
“All the kids’ first initials with her birthdate at the end?” Janine asks. My mouth drops open.
“How did you know that?” I ask incredulously.
“How did you not know we’d figure that out?” she replies. “You’re very predictable.” All of the sudden, it makes so much more sense how she always seems to know when I have enough money in the account to go shopping. The little bitch figured out my password and has been breaking in to look. “So now that my first unofficial engagement pictures have been dealt with, let’s get back to this wedding thing. Becky,” she says with just a hint of patronization, “We don’t want a big wedding.”
“I never said anything about a big wedding. Just a fabulous one.”
She huffs, knowing I’m not going to let this go. “Why can’t we just do a destination wedding? I hear Bora Bora is nice.”
“Isn’t that where Beiber got caught with his dingle berries hanging out?” Jeremiah says, once again more interested in talking swimmers than weddings. Once again, we ignore him. This seems to be becoming a pattern.
“Do you know how expensive plane tickets would be for a family of seven?” I remind her. “We can’t afford that.”
She sighs, knowing I’ve got her on that one.
“Let me do this for you,” I implore. “Please? Let me help you plan a beautiful wedding for your closest friends and families.” I use my best puppy dog eyes on her, which probably looks more like I’m having a stroke, then go in for the kill. “You took me to a porno convention and made me look at porn star peen.”
Dan chokes on the drink he was attempting to swallow while Jeremiah laughs. Lesser men wouldn’t be comfortable with a conversation like this one. But I have to hand it to them...they are oddly comfortable with us talking about other mens’ penises.
“Fine,” she says throwing her hands up in the air, defeated. Next to her, Dan groans while I squeal and start clapping my hands together.
She points her pale pink fingernail my direction and narrows her eyes. “We’ll have a wedding but only because of the peen.” I squeal again. “Wait! Listen! It has to be small,” she demands, slashing her hand through the air. “Twenty five people, tops. Including us and all our kids. Agreed?”
“Done,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. This is going to be fun.
“This is going to be so much fun!” Janine finally grins.
Let the wedding planning begin.
Note to self: Keep the wedding fabulous. Even if it’s not as small as she thinks she wants.
FriendTrip: WeddedBliss
Coming February 2016!