by T J Payne
“Have you finalized your guest list?” the Event Planner asked.
Caleb’s face shifted. The change was slight. His grin became tighter. His eyes began to glow with a new intensity. It was a look the Event Planner knew well.
“Yes,” he said. “We have.”
CHAPTER 1
“Get in your hole, you little asshole. Get in your fucking hole!” Amy yelled at the tiny hex wrench in her hand.
It didn’t help that after a day of carrying boxes upstairs and then assembling cheap furniture — two bookshelves, a night stand, a cabinet, and a table —her exhausted hands struggled to grip the little wrench that came with her dining chair.
Amy was sure that the manufacturers made the wrench too small on purpose. She had heard somewhere that the self-assemble furniture companies wanted the process to be difficult. Or, at least, a little difficult. Sure, they could design the pieces to slot together and be ready in five minutes. But some market researcher somewhere learned that customers were more attached to their furniture if they had to work to assemble it.
Supposedly, it gave customers a feeling of accomplishment. That they had created something. They had built this whole table with their own two hands!
The harder the journey, the more you appreciate the destination. Or some shit like that.
But right now, Amy didn’t care about journeys or struggles. The hex wrench was too small to gain any true leverage. And the angle that she had to reach into the chair seat meant that she was only allowed a quarter turn at a time.
She reached in again.
Most people thought that her work as a yoga and aerobic dance instructor would provide her with some sense of inner Zen when confronted with life’s challenges.
Nope.
She tended to deal with difficult situations by either giving up or swearing profusely.
The wood let out a creak as Amy twisted the hex wrench one final time. Her chair was finally finished.
“About effing time.”
She flipped it upright and slid it under her new dining table.
She grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on the floor and shoved it in her mouth. Her back ached. Her face and arms were sticky from sweat. She wanted a shower and a beer.
But as she munched on pizza and gazed at her studio apartment, she couldn’t help but bask in her accomplishment.
Aside from some unpacked boxes and the still-to-be-inflated air mattress, her new home was coming together nicely. She might not have enough space to host friends — not that she had many friends at this stage of her life; she was always too exhausted in the evenings for friends — but she had a place to shower and sleep.
Maybe the feeling of accomplishment that came from assembling one’s own furniture was a thing.
In one day, she had moved on to a new stage of her life.
A new apartment.
A new Amy Holgate.
She was done.
But as she admired her new home, her gaze fell on the key that lay on the counter. Her old key.
She wasn’t done. Not yet.
With a sigh, she walked over and picked it up.
“Damnit,” she said, staring at the key. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She was swearing again.
Another of life’s challenges would have to be dealt with.
***
She hoped that Mariko wasn’t home yet. She could leave the key on the table and slink off, telling Mariko goodbye through text, or something.
But the moment Amy stepped inside her old apartment, the spicy scent of Chinese takeout wafted over to her.
Amy walked in, closing the door behind her.
As she strolled through the living room toward the kitchen, she glanced at the furniture. Her pride at her day’s accomplishments evaporated. Her old place was nicer. Much nicer. As was the furniture, the kitchenware, the TV. Everything.
But Mariko had paid for it all. It was hers. Not Amy’s.
As she walked into the dining room, Mariko looked up from the table and leaned back in her seat. She still wore her gray blouse and skirt from her day at the office, having evidently just gotten home.
The two of them locked eyes with each other.
“You all moved out?” Mariko asked.
“Yep.”
“If you had waited for the weekend, I would have helped. Or at least cheered you on.”
“I had today off.”
“Nice place?”
“No rat turds. No hypodermic needles.”
“Schmancy.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to drop this off,” Amy said as she stepped over and set her old key on the table. “And, um, this as well.” Amy reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring. She kept her head tilted down as she set the ring beside the key.
“I bought beer,” Mariko said, disregarding the ring as she motioned toward the fridge. “Help yourself. You look hot and stinky. There’s also an open pinot if you’re feeling civilized.”
Amy went over and grabbed a beer.
“Told my parents about the breakup,” Amy said, trying to casually lean against the counter as she took a sip.
“How’d that go?”
“Dad grunted and muttered some ‘whatever makes you happy’ thing. That’s about as much of a response as I can ever get from him anyway. My mom on the other hand…”
“Ugly?”
“Devastated. Did she call you? She said she was gonna when she stopped crying.”
“Yep. She called,” Mariko said.
“And? What did she say?”
“That she’ll always love me like a daughter. That she wants to make sure that I keep in touch with her and Roger. That I’m invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas at their house every year because…” Mariko’s words stumbled as she became a little choked up, but she quickly recovered. “Because… she knows how much it hurt when my family disowned me. She says that’ll never happen with her. It was very sweet.”
“Mom’s a softie.”
“That’s our Candice.”
“She say anything else?”
“Just that she hopes that I’m still going with you all to what’s-his-butt’s wedding.”
Amy looked up. “And? What did you say?”
“I said I would.”
“You don’t have to. Really.”
“Your call. If it’ll be weird…” Mariko said.
“It won’t be weird.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. We’re adults. We’re friends. But if you don’t wanna come because you think it’ll be weird…”
“It’s a free trip to Europe. I’m willing to put up with large quantities of weird for that.”
“Then come.”
They looked at each other quietly, both seemingly trying to gauge each other’s true feelings on the matter.
Finally, Amy shrugged and took another swig of beer. “It’ll be fun. Besides, if I had to spend a week traveling through Europe with my parents by myself—”
“— you would fucking kill yourself.”
“I would fucking kill myself.”
They grinned at each other. Amy broke eye contact by forcing another swig of her beer. Her mouth was dry and the alcohol actually wasn’t helping. It didn’t cool her down either.
“But seriously, you don’t have to go,” Amy said.
“Stop it. I put in for the vacation months ago. If I don’t go, I’m just gonna be sitting around the apartment. And if I sit around the apartment, I’m gonna end up with a cat. You don’t want me to get a cat, do you? Because if I get one, I’m gonna feel bad that I leave it alone all day, so then I’ll need to get it a friend. And then the hoarding begins.”
“And I’m allergic to cats.”
“It’s all in your head,” Mariko said. “Besides, your mom’s been looking forward to this trip for months. If I’m not there, she’s just gonna pester you about how you’re gonna die alone.”
“She’s gonna do that anyway.”
“That�
��s our Candice.”
The two grinned at each other.
Amy knew that Mariko was right, as was often the case. Amy’s mom was a different person around Amy’s girlfriends. Maybe because it gave her mom someone to talk to — Lord knows Amy’s dad wasn’t an engaging conversationalist. But Amy also knew that her mom simply wanted Amy to be happy, and she was incapable of fathoming the possibility that her daughter might be happiest alone.
“So, who is this guy who’s getting married?” Mariko finally asked.
“Caleb? His family lived across the street from us. We were best friends when we were kids.”
“You never talk about him.”
“We dated in middle school. You know how that screws things up.”
“Don’t I.”
“But it’ll be fun,” Amy said. “Caleb’s a good guy.”
She took another swig of beer.
“A good guy,” she repeated, although she didn’t know why. Amy hadn’t spoken to Caleb in years. She honestly didn’t know what kind of guy he was now.
***
Caleb had never loved Lilith so much.
He always heard that weddings were stressful for couples. So much to do. So many decisions to make. A minor disagreement on linen colors or centerpieces could open an irreparable rift.
But Caleb and Lilith were a good team.
Caleb deferred to Lilith, and Lilith made snap decisions.
Caleb didn’t always agree with her choices, though. He thought the color scheme of red and black was a bit too unpleasant, especially considering they were having a summer wedding. Lilith also refused to grant the guests menu options other than filet mignon, very rare. That struck Caleb as lacking in all subtlety.
Still, the decisions happened quickly and painlessly.
They only argued about table assignments. It was primarily a math problem. The tables only seated eight guests, meaning that some parties had to be broken up and others combined. Caleb suggested moving Lilith’s dad to Table Three to make room for Caleb’s coworkers to sit together.
Lilith shot back that her father must be front and center. Nothing near doors, nothing near windows. It was Table One or nothing.
What should have been a simple statement of preference turned into Lilith accusing Caleb of not listening to her. She yelled that he was trying to ruin her wedding. She called him weak. She called him a loser.
He went back to their room and cried.
When he finally returned, Lilith acted as though nothing had happened. She pleasantly kissed his cheek and announced that she had figured out the seating math. She would seat her cousin, who played linebacker, next to Caleb’s cousin, who was a first lieutenant in the Army. Two big alpha males seated together. That should create some sparks, Lilith figured.
With that task behind them, they went on to their evening routine of weight training, weapons training, and steroid injections. Caleb had gotten pretty good with a rapier. Lilith’s preferred weapon was a long, spiked hammer. It was relatively light and maneuverable, but it still managed to deliver a significant amount of force.
That night, they tried to make love.
They weren’t successful.
Caleb had been struggling to maintain an erection since he began their steroid regimen. At first, he was ashamed, but Lilith understood. It was a sacrifice for something more important.
Caleb was a lucky guy. Instead of a Bridezilla, he had found the kindest, most understanding, most loving person he had ever known. He lay awake that night, smiling to himself. Any day now, their families and friends would make the trek across the Atlantic.
Their perfect day couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER 2
Amy’s tiny apartment wasn’t meant for this.
Her parents and Mariko crowded together in the small space, making it seem all that much smaller which, in turn, made Amy’s new life seem all that much more pathetic.
She sat on her airbed with her father. They both watched Amy’s mom nervously pace in a tight circle around their stack of suitcases.
“Is there a flight number?” Amy’s mom, Candice, asked as she stared at her watch. “Or tickets? Did you print out tickets? I always print out the tickets. I know they say the digital ones work just as well, but it’s good to have something physical in your hand. Something you can show someone.”
“It’s fine, Mom.”
The RSVP website had said a car would pick them up and take them to the airport. Candice had insisted that they all travel together.
“Maybe we should have printed out the screen. Something to show them if we need to,” Candice said.
“The website said we only need to bring our passports.”
“Did you get a confirmation email?”
“No.”
“A confirmation number?”
“Mom—”
“Always print the confirmation number. That way, you have proof it went through. What if it didn’t go through? Then we’ll miss the flight and the wedding. It’s always smart to check these things. Mariko agrees with me. Don’t you, Mariko?”
Mariko put up her hands. “Don’t drag me into this.” She had perched herself on the dining table, watching out the window for the car while turning every now and then to take in the spectacle of a Holgate Family Vacation.
“Mom. Chill. The website said—”
“The website. The website. The website. I just don’t understand what this website is. Is it a travel site? An airline site? I just don’t get it.”
Amy sighed. “You got the invitation via email, right?”
“Yes.”
“And there was a link to a website to RSVP. Did you click on it?”
“No. Of course not. That’s how you get viruses.”
Mariko let out a laugh as she heard this. “Wait, wait, wait, Candice. You didn’t clicked on the link because you were scared of getting a virus?”
Candice nodded. “I’m not a dolt, Mariko. I don’t just go clicking on websites willy-nilly.”
“So, you had Amy click on the link and RSVP for you and Roger?”
“Yes.”
“So, you weren’t worried about her getting a virus?”
“That’s her problem. She’s young. She can figure it out.”
Amy let out a sigh and flopped backwards onto the airbed, splaying her arms out in the process. This would be the last time she would ever go on a lengthy trip with her mother. They hadn’t even stepped out the front door yet and Amy felt like clawing the paneling off the wall.
She wondered why Caleb bothered to send an invitation to her parents to begin with. All of Amy’s friends who had gotten married talked about how they had to rank their loved ones in order of importance. There always had to be a cutoff — a tier of friend and/or family that just didn’t merit an invitation. The cruel math of weddings.
Amy couldn’t believe that her parents made it into Caleb’s “must-invite” tier. He probably invited them with the hope that they’d decline and thus free up a precious spot for someone closer.
But when Amy’s mom saw the opportunity for an all-expense-paid European vacation with her husband, daughter, and daughter’s (then) girlfriend, there was no way for Amy to talk her out of it. She had never seen her mother so excited.
Although, an excited Candice Holgate was a beast unto itself.
“Are we sure a car is coming to pick us up?” Candice asked. “Did we need to reserve it? Is there a phone number we can call to verify?”
An exasperated Amy covered her eyes with her hands. “Dad? Little help?”
Roger sat beside her like a block of wood that had been carved into a stout, balding man. “Candice,” he said in his deep voice. “Relax.”
Candice scrunched her face and threw up her hands in a Just you wait. If this all falls apart, don’t blame me! motion.
But she didn’t say another word.
There was the liberal side of Amy that didn’t approve of how readily her parents slipped into stereotypical gen
der roles — how a single grunt from her stern, silent father was enough to quiet her chatty, worrying mother. But damn, that old school dynamic was useful when it worked!
For a few minutes, Amy enjoyed the glorious silence. But it was just long enough for her to actually start worrying herself. The RSVP website was a bit bizarre. Unlike most wedding websites and registries, Caleb and Lilith’s page had no pictures and no event details.
The site only contained the name of Amy, her parents, and a blank space to fill in Amy’s plus-one.
She clicked “Attending” for all of them and then filled in her pickup location. A message popped up stating that a car would arrive at 10:30 a.m. on August 8th. Bring a passport and formal attire.
That was it.
The website then faded to a screen that only read, “We Look Forward to Celebrating With You.”
No “back” button.
No “return to main menu.”
No additional details.
No nothing.
As Amy sat on her airbed, her mother’s concerns started to overtake her.
Maybe she had missed some crucial detail. Surely, there was more information about where exactly they were going and what the trip would entail.
She pulled out her phone and searched through her emails.
There was no confirmation in her inbox.
She tried to find the original invitation email. Maybe there were more details there.
Amy scrolled through message after message but couldn’t find that email either. Had she accidentally deleted it? As she searched deeper into her email folder, Amy couldn’t find any evidence that this wedding was actually happening, that she and her family had actually been invited, that there was actually a car coming to pick them up.
God, maybe her mother was right.
What a terrifying thought.
As Amy opened her mouth to voice her suspicions to the group — Honk! Honk! Honk! — a horn sounded outside.
“Uh, guys?” Mariko said from her perch on the dining table. They could see her jaw hanging open as she gazed outside. “That ain’t a car they sent.”
Amy and her parents joined Mariko at the window.
A stretched limousine idled in the road, waiting for them.
The driver climbed out and tipped his hat toward their window. “Caleb Hunt’s wedding?” he called out.
