THREE
Something Old, Something New, Something Bloody, Something Blue
Libby
“Here’s the bride! Come give us a kiss.” Granddad, who is dressed in a very smart dark grey morning suit, takes his pipe out of his mouth and smiles at me.
He, along with my entire family and the photographer, are waiting in the garden behind the old stone church that has played host to all the biggest weddings in Valcourt for the past four hundred years. The late morning sun shines down, softly warming me, and I start to relax a little, letting go of my sense of doom. It is a perfect autumn day, and even though we’re only six minutes behind schedule, we can easily make it up if we skip two of the poses I was going to do under the rose trestle.
I cross the grass to Grandad, my eyes filling with tears as they’ve been doing since I woke at four a.m. in a panic that my alarm wasn't going to go off. I'm working on only three hours of sleep, but I hope I have enough makeup caked on that no one will notice.
He gives me a careful hug, clearly having had enough experience with brides to know you don't want to mess with their hair or makeup.
“Libby, you look tired,” Gran says, looking down her nose at me from under her pink fascinator. “But your dress really is lovely, and I’m glad you decided to wear your hair up properly instead of hanging down like a bohemian.”
Alice, who has just finished hugging Grandad, rolls her eyes in my direction at our Gran’s comment. Then she glances toward the side door of the church and gasps.
When I turn, I see my mother and a young man who must be her new beau hurrying over to us. My mum’s long hair is down (like a bohemian) and she’s in an off-the-shoulder mini-dress that belongs on a much younger woman. “Mini-Me!” she shouts, sweeping across the lawn as though she belongs here.
Her boyfriend trails behind her, wearing white slacks and a pink button-down shirt he should probably finish buttoning up. He’s got one of those horrid man buns perched on top of his head like a nest belonging to a bird whose eggs should be taken away by child services — and he has a very ironic beard. His earlobes bear holes big enough to poke your index finger through and he’s beaming at me like a proud father.
My entire body tenses as they come near, and I touch the space under my nose to make sure it’s not bleeding. I’m a stress-bleeder, and the sight of my mum at this moment has put all my nerves on high alert that something is very wrong.
“Nosebleed, Libby?” Alice asks, digging around in her purse for some tissues.
“Not yet, but I think I feel one walking toward me right now,” I say as Penny floats in my direction. Alice hands me a wad of just-in-case tissues, and suddenly I’m overwhelmed by the smell of pot as my mum gives me a long, deep hug.
“My baby! How’d you grow up so fast?” she asks, obviously unaware of the fact that it happened during the twenty-two years she’s been M.I.A. Pulling back, she says, “You’re gorgeous. Jorge, isn’t she gorgeous?”
“Si, Penny, you two could be sisters.” Jorge gives me a kiss on both cheeks while my mind races, trying to come up with a way to get them out of here before my nose starts gushing.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say, trying to look happily shocked instead of shockingly horrified.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” My mum tilts her head to the side and sighs happily. “I just had to be here for my little girl’s big day.”
“Why start now?” Gran scoffs.
My mum stares Gran down for an uncomfortably long moment. “How about we set aside our differences and really just be here for our little Breeze Liberty today, okay?”
Gran stiffens at the sound of my full name and snorts. “Be here for her? Unlike the rest of her life, you mean?”
Grandad puts a hand on Gran’s arm. “Now, Clara, let’s not get into this. It’s not going to get us anywhere, and it’ll only spoil Libby’s wedding.”
My mum, having already grown tired of her parents and only child, turns to Alice, who’s been joined by Jack and their kids. Penny squeals with delight and starts gushing over the great-niece and nephew she’s never met while Roland, our wedding photographer, hurries over with his equipment at the ready, snapping candids of this ‘happy’ reunion.
My alarm on my mobile phone goes off, and I open my silk clutch to silence it. I’m using my phone to set alarms for the entire day so as not to forget anything. “That's my reminder to give you your gratuity, Roland.”
Roland breaks into a wide smile and holds out his hand. “Thank you, Libby. Most people leave it until the end of the day, and by that point they’re either too knackered or too drunk to remember.”
Roland pockets the envelope, then quickly moves on to lining up Alice, Jack, and their children for a photo. I wanted to give them a photo of just their family as a thank you to Alice for being my maid of honour.
Standing next to Roland, I make goofy faces so Maisie and Colby will grin in the general direction of the camera. Maisie smiles, displaying her entire set of three teeth, while Colby sticks his hand up in front of his face to block the camera. I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that this behaviour is a direct result of being the first grandchild and the subject of at least ten thousand photos in his three-year lifespan.
“Colby, put your hand down,” Jack says, a tight smile plastered to his face.
Colby makes no move to obey, which leads both Alice and Jack to alternate between pleading and barking orders at their son through clenched teeth.
“Oh, he’s got a mind of his own, that one. Just like his Great Aunt Penny!” my mum says with a big laugh.
Alice, looking distraught at the idea that her son will end up an irresponsible freeloader, has a pinched voice when she says, “Put your hand down now, love.”
Grandad chimes in with, “Colby, listen to your mum or you're not getting any of the jelly beans I brought.”
Jorge joins in, waving his hands in front of Colby, as if he’s been part of the family for thirty years instead of thirty seconds. “Come on, buddy. Shows us what a good boy you are. Do it for your Auntie Breeze. For her special day.”
As I watch the mayhem unfold, I suddenly become aware of the fact that Richard’s entire staff at the law firm, as well as all of his relatives (some of whom have royal titles), are going to meet Penny and Jorge, who will most likely make out like a couple of horny teenagers on the dance floor in a few hours. I check my nose, amazed to find it’s not bleeding. However, my gut is churning and my palms are starting to sweat. It’s going to be utterly humiliating to have to introduce her and Jorge, who I’m pretty sure is younger than me, based on the very classy neck tattoo of what I assume is his birthday: 01-10-96. Let’s see, if he was born in 1996, that makes him six years younger than me. So…twenty-two. Nothing gross about that, right?
Suddenly, I realize I must have had some type of premonition about my mum showing up. That’s why I’ve been so anxious! It’s nothing to do with Richard and me at all. I smile and let myself relax for a second.
My phone distracts me, reading aloud my latest text message (I've left it on driving mode so I can keep up with any new developments during the day without slowing things down unnecessarily). “Incoming text message from Aunt Bea: Uncle Geoffrey and I are running a few minutes late getting to town. We should be there by 12:05. Should we come around the back of the church so as not to interrupt the ceremony?”
I quickly text her back while the struggle for a perfect family photo continues. That's fine, Auntie. We might be a few minutes behind ourselves. Just come in the front doors, which actually lead to the back of the church.
“Oh, forget it then. He's just not going to cooperate,” Jack says, shaking his head in disgust.
Roland lets the camera hang from his neck and gestures for the rest of us to line up for the next set of photos. “What if we try for a group shot? Maybe Granny here can hold one of the little guy's hands and Dad holds the other one.”
We all get in—including Jorge, of course, because, why wouldn’t he? Roland arranges us, then leans down at Colby and smiles. “Listen, mate, I have a little secret for you. There is a tiny elf living inside my camera, but he only comes out when kids smile nicely. Do you want to meet him?”
Colby gives him a long, skeptical look. “Does he bite kids’ cheeks off?”
All the grown-ups wear matching horrified expressions, except my super-high mum, who seems to be wondering the same thing as she squints at the lens.
Roland shakes his head and says, “No, of course not. He's quite a funny little bloke. He might stick his tongue out at you if you're really quiet.”
Quickly picking up his camera and glancing at the rest of us, Roland says, “Be ready. I think this might be the one.”
We all stand perfectly still and wait while he snaps away.
“Oh, little buddy, you need to smile bigger than that if he's going to come out. I think I hear him.”
I stand, my cheeks already sore from smiling, as I silently pray that Colby will just cooperate for the twentieth of a second it will take to get a good shot. Of course, chances of that happening at the exact moment Gran will actually have her eyes open are pretty much nil, so Roland is likely going to earn every dollar of that gratuity trying to mix-and-match faces to create the perfect portrait.
My phone beeps loudly, then reads out: “Incoming text message from Richard: If your phone’s on driving mode, you better shut it off now, okay? Otherwise this will be awfully embarrassing. Is it off? Okay. I'm really sorry, Libby. I'm not going to make it today. I can’t marry you. I know I should have told you sooner, but I’ve been trying to convince myself to go ahead with it.”
I slowly process what I've just heard while my stupid face remains frozen in place in a wide grin. Around me, chaos ensues.
“What the hell did he just say?”
“He said he's not coming. What kind of a man texts that he’s not coming to his own wedding?”
“There’s no elf in that camera! You lied to me!”
“Oh Libby, I'm so sorry.”
“Ouch! That little brat just stomped on my foot!”
“He's not a brat. He just doesn't like being lied to.”
I blink and realize Jorge is standing in front of me with his hands on both my upper arms. “Are you okay, Breeze? As basically your step-father, I would be proud to beat him to a pulp if that will make you feel better.”
My mum’s faces crumples in concern. “Are you all right, love?”
I hear her talking, but her voice sounds very far away, like it's coming through a long tube.
“Mini-Me.” She shakes me a little. “Breeze. Answer me. Oh, Sweet Jesus, she’s catatonic! Jorge, get her a joint!”
“What…what just happened?” I suddenly feel my entire body going limp, and I just want to sit down. I'm not sure what I'm doing at the moment because I'm completely disconnected from my physical self, but I'm vaguely aware of the fact that Granddad and Jorge have now taken me by either arm and are guiding me to a park bench. The feeling of the cold stone through the thin chiffon and silk layers of my dress brings me back to reality. “Did he just say he's not coming?” I whisper.
When no one answers me, I blink at my mum. “Richard’s not coming.”
“I know, Mini-Me. I heard the message. We all did. Oh, God, honey, your nose still bleeds when you get upset?”
I place my hand under my nose and feel the familiar wet sensation. Alice grabs the tissue from my other hand and shoves it under my nose, but it’s too late. It’s already dripped down the front of my dress.
“It’s okay, we can get that out with some club soda,” Alice says.
Roland, who is suddenly standing next to me, pats me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Probably for the best. Better to find out now than when you’re three children into the whole thing like I did.”
I nod as though I understand any of what is currently happening.
He sucks in a deep breath, then says, “Listen, Libby, I know this isn't the right moment, but the contract does state there are no refunds within seven days prior to the wedding.”
“Not now, you ninny!” Gran shouts at him, sending him scurrying off in the direction of his camera bag.
“Do you need a moment of privacy?” Mum says, handing me my phone. “Perhaps you should call him.”
I nod slowly. “Yes, I suppose I should.”
Alice, who has Maisie in her arms, barks, “Do not phone him, whatever you do! If he's going to call this whole thing off via text, he doesn't deserve to hear from you ever again.”
“I always knew he had no balls!” Granddad hollers suddenly, shocking us all by both shouting and using the word ‘balls.’
“Language, Edward!” Gran says in a shrill tone. Turning to me, she says, “I think we should take a moment to pray for wisdom during this difficult time.”
I stare at her for a second before saying, “Umm…maybe in a bit. I…I think I will phone him. Not God, Richard. I’m sure there’s been some sort of mistake, and we can work this out in time for the ceremony.” I smile weakly at the members of my family, then realize smiling is completely pointless due to the wad of tissue hiding the lower half of my face. “Why don’t you all head inside and give me a minute to sort this out.”
Shoulders drop in relief around me, and I watch as my family disappears through the side door to join over three hundred people who are waiting for me to walk down the aisle so Richard and I can become Mr. and Mrs. Happily Ever After.
My pulse thumps in my ears and my hands shake as I dial his number. Holding the phone slightly away from my ear, it occurs to me that I’m filled with dread at what he might say. I gaze down at my diamond ring as I wait for him to answer.
When he finally picks up, his voice is quiet. “You had your phone on driving mode, didn't you?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Why am I not screaming at him? I should be screaming into the phone right now. If ever there was a time for anyone to really let someone have it, it would be me at this moment, speaking to this man. And yet, I feel so utterly confused, there’s no room for anger.
“Are you having car trouble? Because I can send the limo for you. Or maybe you’re trapped under the refrigerator and need to be rescued. Is that it? Because I can’t think of a reasonable explanation for you not to show up.”
“I’m so sorry, Libby. I should have told you weeks ago, but I thought it was just cold feet.”
I gulp down some air. So this is really happening. My hands go all tingly. I hear him talking, but none of it makes much sense. Cutting him off mid-apology, I say, “Is there someone else?”
“No. Of course not.”
This revelation hurts almost worse than if he had fallen for another woman because this means it's simply about me not being good enough, not because he's found someone better.
He lets out a long sigh. “It's just that…over the past few weeks, I’ve realized I'm not in love with you anymore. To be really honest, I'm not sure I ever was. I think I was more in love with the idea of us than us as a real couple.”
“The idea of us? That's a little cliché, don't you think? I thought you hated clichés, Richard.” I find my voice, and it turns out it's an extremely bitter one.
“You're right. I'm sorry. This is why I thought it best to text you. I knew I was going to say the wrong thing.”
“This is not about you saying the wrong thing. It’s that you didn’t say anything!” I stand and pace the lawn while I rant, completely forgetting my nose. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before I spent months of my life planning this and thousands of dollars paying for it. Before I got up at 4 o'clock this morning to get my hair and makeup done so I could look beautiful for you! Before all of our relatives travelled from all over the bloody kingdom to be here! Before we had a church full of people waiting for us! Who’s going to tell them the wedding's off, Richard? WHO? Clearly not you, since you've decided not to come today!”
“Perhaps Alice could do it?” he says weakly. “Or, if you'd like, you could leave now and I can show up just to tell everyone the bad news. It's my responsibility after all.”
“Forget it. I'll take care of it, just like I took care of every other detail of the wedding you no longer want to have.” A rush of anger flows through me as I stare at the door to the church.
“Are you sure? I don't want you to face that type of humiliation alone.”
I let out a forced laugh. “If you didn’t want to humiliate me, you should've done this much, much, much, much, much, much sooner!”
“I know. I’m so sorry for putting you through this, Libby.”
Instantly, I go from furious to horribly hurt. Tears prick my eyes, but I will them back inside with everything in me. “I just have to know, what is it about me that makes you not…?” My voice cracks.
There’s a long pause, then Richard says, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to get into this right now. Not when things are still so raw.”
“Is it because I don’t want to do the butt stuff? Because if it is, that is really unfair. You know I had that hemorrhoid and it will flare up if we—”
I stop talking, suddenly aware that my Aunt Bea and Uncle Geoffrey are standing to my left with their mouths open. My face flames with embarrassment while my aunt whispers, “We’ll just go inside and wait.”
“Yes, thanks,” I say, nodding.
“You’re going to want to wash up, love,” Uncle Geoffrey says. “You’ve got blood all over you.”
Shit.
As they walk inside, I catch a few bars of the string quartet playing The Best is Yet to Come.
“Oh, Libs, did someone just hear all that?” Richard asks.
“My Aunt Bea and Uncle Geoffrey.” I swallow, trying to hold it together long enough to ask my fiancé why he’s decided not to come today. “I need to know why you don’t love me anymore, Richard. It’s the least you can do.”
He sighs as though this is such a chore for him. “I promise it’s not the butt thing. That might matter to some guys, but for me it’s no big deal.” I can picture him, rubbing his temple and giving me an apologetic look. “It’s just…don’t you sometimes think our life together is…well, sort of…boring?”
Boring? “I love our life together. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here in this stupid dress.” The tears are coming out now, and I pat at them, hoping to salvage my makeup.
“How can you love it? We’ve been having the same day every day for the past six years. We go to the same restaurants, watch the same TV shows, eat the same meals. Saturday mornings we read the paper in bed, then go to the farmer’s market, then cook an early dinner… It’s like we’re in our seventies instead of our twenties. I’m not ready to be old yet, Libby. I’m young. I want to be spontaneous, you know? Have some adventures in life, like…I don’t know…skydiving or bungee-jumping or booking a trip at the last minute without checking TripAdvisor for any mention of bed bugs.”
“Bed bugs are a lot more serious than most people realize. It costs thousands to—”
“Libby,” he says, raising his voice so I’ll stop. “We’re just not a good match anymore. I want different things. I know it hurts right now, but someday you’ll meet the right guy for you, someone who will be thrilled to live by Libby’s routine. I’m just not that guy. I’m going to hang up now, okay? This is just too hard for me.”
“Too hard for you? Oh, I didn’t realize I was making you feel awkward. In that case, maybe I should be apologizing to you.”
“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“I was being sarcastic.”
“Right. Of course. Sorry,” he says.
“Well, I should go tell everyone you aren’t coming today.”
“I guess so.”
I hang up without saying goodbye, which quite frankly feels like a total power move because I’ve never done it before, and certainly not to Richard, not even the time he forgot my birthday and went for drinks with his workmates.
I stop at the steps to the back of the church and grasp the handle, my mind racing with what’s just happened. I’m gripped by fear because the entire future that was so perfectly laid out before me has now gone up in smoke.
No, this isn’t how my fairy-tale is going to end. No way. Not if I have anything to say about it. It’s not only up to Richard. It’s also my decision, and I say we are getting married. Not today, mind you, but I am definitely going to be Mrs. Libby Tomy someday very soon and we are going to live happily ever after.
Shaking my head, I say, “No. This is not happening. I will not let this happen.”
I can fix this. I just need a plan. I’ll deal with the people in the church, then go back to our flat and make Richard see the light. We’re perfect for each other, and deep down he knows it. He’s just having some quarter-life crisis. No, that’s wrong. A third-life crisis? What’s it called when a guy is twenty-eight? Oh, Libby, it doesn’t matter, you idiot. Just get in there and fix this.
Taking a deep breath, I walk into the church and straight up the aisle as quickly as possible. By the time I reach the front of the church, the string quartet has stopped playing Pachelbel’s Canon, and the only sound is coming from my heels on the stone floor.
Lifting the hem of my dress, I hurry up the steps to the altar and nudge the Minister out of the way of the microphone. When I look up, I see the horrified faces of everyone I know, and it's clear to me they’ve already heard rumblings of what's going on. Christ, I hope Aunt Bea hasn’t told anyone about the butt stuff.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Well you've probably heard the groom is not going to make it today. Please don’t be alarmed, however. He’s very sorry, but he’s had a…work emergency…so we’ll have to postpone to a later date. In the meantime, we’d love it if you’d stay and partake in the luncheon and enjoy the photo booth and the dance. It's all paid for and it’s too late to get a refund, so…”
I lift my chin and smile serenely. “Oh, and don't forget to take your presents and your cards with you when you leave. Thank you for coming to support us. Have a wonderful weekend.”
An audience of stunned faces stares up at me. I find my mum in the front pew, and the very sight of her strengthens my resolve. I won’t end up like her, flitting from man to man. I already have a man. I just have to convince him to change his mind.