Bad Bridesmaid

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘Are you jealous?’ he asks.

  ‘No.’ I laugh. ‘Sounds like my idea of hell.’

  ‘Why?’

  I shoot Leo a look.

  ‘I didn’t realise I was going to be interrogated.’

  ‘Humour me,’ he insists with an irresistible smile.

  ‘Look, I’m annoyed that I have been summoned here to spend time with a family who hate me, and I’m even a little pissed off that my parents have decided Belle should have my half of the wedding fund – not because I want the money, but because they’ve just written me off.’

  ‘But marriage sounds like your idea of hell,’ Leo reminds me. ‘So what does it matter?’

  ‘I don’t care about the fact that it’s gone, I care about why.’

  ‘But why does it matter if you’re not getting married?’

  ‘Look, you’re never going to get it. Your mum worships you, you couldn’t possibly understand.’

  ‘Do you know what I think,’ Leo starts, raising his voice as I switch on the noisy electric mixer. ‘I think you’re lonely.’

  ‘You think I’m lonely?’ I repeat, equally as loudly. ‘Do I seem short of attention to you?’

  ‘Well, what have you got in LA? You don’t have a boyfriend–’

  ‘Oh my God, I don’t have a boyfriend, the be all and end all,’ I interrupt him, my voice still raised even though I’ve turned the mixer off.

  ‘Well you don’t sound like you have many friends either.’

  ‘So, what, you’re going to move to LA with me? Be my BF, my BFF and a total pain in my ASS?’

  As Leo beings preparing the frosting, I angrily dollop blobs of batter into bun cases. I imagine I’ll be marked down for presentation because with each one I grow angrier and angrier, slopping batter all over. If he’s not careful, I might say something I’ll regret.

  ‘OK, why not,’ Leo starts enthusiastically. ‘I’ll move to LA, we’ll see what happens.’

  ‘What about your job?’ I ask.

  ‘You have fires in LA, right?’ he says with a smile. I really love that smile of his. When he isn’t giving any emotion away his dark eyes and chiselled features make him look quite moody and intense, but when he smiles his face just comes to life. He lights up. Would it be the worst thing in the world to see that smile every day? No, but it’s not realistic and we both know it. He knows how I feel about relationships and commitments, and suddenly he’s suggesting moving thousands of miles to be with me.

  ‘And it’s that simple,’ I laugh, but it’s not an amused laugh, it’s an angry laugh, the one that seems to serve as a warning shot when I feel like I’m being cornered. There’s only one thing to do when you’re being cornered and that’s attack.

  ‘It is,’ he tells me. ‘We’re meant for each other, Mia. You can keep doing your job, I’ll find work as a firefighter.’

  ‘What, so you can just die in a fire and leave me heartbroken?’ I snap.

  And there it is. The thing that I say before instantly regretting it. I almost can’t believe I said it, so I instantly turn my back to him and bend down to put the cakes in the oven. I jump up as I hear a loud noise, only to see the bowl Leo was using on the floor and Leo standing over it. He’s holding his hand like he’s hurt it, he must have hit something in a temper.

  ‘Why are you so afraid of people loving you?’ he yells before storming out.

  I place a hand over my mouth, the mouth that just said such a cruel thing. Leo has been nothing but incredible to me since the day we met – he’s stuck up for me, he was disturbingly calm when he found me with Mike… but he’s finally snapped. Well, of course he has, because I stupidly brought up the way he lost his dad as a reason for us not to be together. His dad died in a fire saving a child’s life, that’s a huge sacrifice and I feel like such a fucking bitch for bringing it up.

  As I clean up the mess Leo has made, I notice Shell standing over me.

  ‘These are not thick walls,’ she informs me, without her usual warmth.

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, did people hear?’

  ‘I heard,’ she tells me. ‘I heard everything – what happened, the things you said to Leo. He loves you, what’s so wrong with that?’

  ‘Well maybe I don’t love him back, or does that not matter?’ I ask defensively.

  ‘If you believe that, you’re an even bigger fool that I thought.’

  ‘You don’t know the first thing about me,’ I tell her.

  ‘And you don’t know the first thing about love, Mia. It’s hard, but we still do it.’

  I place the bowl in the sink and grab another to make some frosting that hasn’t spent any time on the floor.

  ‘Maybe some of us weren’t designed to love,’ I say quietly.

  Shell exhales deeply.

  ‘I don’t want your sister’s day ruining any more than it already has been. Finish the cakes – quietly – and then get out. You’re not who I thought you were. You can store them here over night, but after you collect them I never want to see you again. And don’t worry about setting a scene from your next movie here, I’ve had enough of your scripted rubbish.’

  For a moment, I am speechless. Shell has gone from worshipping me to wishing I was dead and it took less than an hour. She was warm and bubbly and now she’s angry and shouting… and it’s all my fault.

  ***

  It took me a long time but eventually I made enough cupcakes and I decorated them all with pink frosting and orange flowers. I’d never get a job at Le Papillon but I’ve done a pretty good job, even if I did lose my sous chef halfway through.

  Shell’s is empty now, apart from Shell herself who had no interest in saying goodbye to me.

  It’s getting cold out, and as I walk home along the beach I realise there isn’t another soul around.

  I freeze on the spot as I feel my breathing stop. I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe? As I drop to my knees I bang my hand on the sand, willing myself to take a breath. It works and I gasp as I manage to suck in and push out air, but it doesn’t feel natural, it’s like I am having to consciously think about each breath. In… out… in… out. A panic attack – it’s been so long since I had one, but that’s what this is. And it’s not just a panic attack. As I feel my heart pounding in my chest I feel my throat close, my eyes burn and then the tears come flooding out. Crying is something else I haven’t done since I was younger, I forgot how consuming it was. I sob as I watch my tears dampen the sand on the ground in front of me. I concentrate on my breathing, in… out… in… out…

  I think it’s finally hit me that everyone hates me. Everyone. And everyone can’t be wrong, can they? They’re all right about me, I’m a selfish monster and I am broken. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or where it all went wrong, but I’ve really done it this time.

  As I kneel here, wailing away, I realise that not only is no one around to notice, but no one would actually care if I disappeared.

  As my breathing eventually calms, I stand up, compose myself, wipe my eyes and carry on walking back towards the house. I don’t ever want to feel like this again.

  Chapter 42

  If there’s one thing I can take back to LA with me, it’s a better understanding of the act of crying. Until today I had probably written more crying scenes than I had shed tears of my own, but I had forgotten just how ugly it could be. In my movies it’s always the slight quivering of the voice, a few beautiful tears rolling down the cheek that leave a pretty little glistening trail behind them – it’s all shit. Crying isn’t beautiful, it’s horrible. As I sobbed, I couldn’t have spoken if I wanted to, even breathing was difficult. When you’re truly upset, it isn’t a few pretty little tear drops from each eye, it’s just constantly flowing, making your eyes burn until you feel like you can’t keep them open for a minute longer, and it’s not even just tears you have to deal with, I didn’t know it was possible to produce so much snot, I felt like it was choking me. Even now, after drying my eyes and washing my face’ back at the
house, my head feels absolutely full. Full of thoughts and full of snot. The skin on my nose feels tight, my ears feel blocked and my eyes feel like they are being sucked into my skull. Crying looks and feels ugly, and ‘letting it all out’ certainly hasn’t made me feel any less ugly inside.

  Just when I think I am about to make it to my bedroom without seeing a soul, I hear someone call my name.

  ‘Mia.’

  It’s my granddad. I recognise his voice, but I don’t turn to face him.

  ‘You OK, Kid?’

  ‘I’m fine, just tired,’ I tell him as I feel that tight lump returning to my throat. I’m pretty sure he knows exactly what has gone on and it breaks my heart, because he’s the only person to ever stick up for me, and even he’s going to struggle to do that now.

  ‘Are you crying?’ he asks, sounding almost shocked to see me displaying such an emotion.

  I shush him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into my bedroom, probably a little rougher than I should considering his age, but I don’t want anyone else to see that I’m bothered.

  ‘You should let them see you cry,’ he tells me once the door is closed.

  ‘Crying shows weakness,’ I reply.

  ‘No, it shows honesty,’ he corrects me. ‘Words come so easily. It’s only a matter of seconds between them being thought and uttered. Parrots can apologise – it doesn’t make it sincere, it’s a habit that they’ve learned, they’re just repeating the same thing. You need to realise that saying these words after each mistake means less and less each time. You don’t say you’re sorry, Kid, you show people.’

  I don’t think I have ever known my granddad to be wrong. He always tells me that between them, he and his dad knew absolutely everything. I would ask him difficult, sometimes impossible to answer questions, and if he didn’t know the answer he would simply tell me: ‘my dad knew that one.’ Jokes aside, he has never steered me wrong before, and it means so much that he is still looking out for me.

  ‘How do I do that?’ I ask as the tears start flowing again.

  ‘I heard you’ve been baking, that’s a good start. After what happened to the cake…’

  OK, he definitely knows. I cover my face with my hands.

  ‘Come on, Kid, we’ve all made a mess in the kitchen at some point in our lives,’ he laughs. I look at him and my eyes widen, because I can’t imagine my gran ever being down for anything like that.

  ‘Just show them this side of you. Don’t put up a front, just tell everyone how you really feel – even that lad,’ he adds.

  ‘Leo?’

  My granddad nods.

  ‘I don’t think he’ll ever speak to me again. I said some pretty unforgivable things.’

  ‘You’d be surprised what people will forgive when they’re in love – just like when people say and do stupid things because they’re in love. Think about it, Kid. I’ll give you a bit of privacy.’

  As my granddad heads for the door, I go after him and throw my arms around him. As he hugs me back – and I mean really hugs me back, not like the occasional empty hug most of the other family members throw around – the idea of going back to LA is one that makes me feel sick. The thought that one day my wonderful granddad won’t be around any more makes me want to never let go of him again.

  ‘Steady on, Kid,’ he laughs. ‘I can hardly breathe.’

  As always, he’s given me great advice, but being honest about my feelings is not something I am keen on doing – I am scared of being honest with myself, let alone the others.

  ***

  After washing my face again and blowing my nose for the billionth time, I finally feel emotionally balanced enough to re-apply my makeup. I know I told my granddad I’d be honest, but the idea of crying my eyes out and begging everyone for forgiveness is not one that I am crazy about. My sister, my mum, my auntie, my gran… these people hardly know me now, there’s no way they’d be able to recognise whether I was being genuine or not, and I doubt they’d even care. Maybe given time they will listen to my apology, but not in time for the wedding.

  I am snapped from my thoughts by my phone ringing. It’s work.

  ‘Dalia, hello! Boy, am I glad to hear from you,’ I answer, breathing a sigh of relief as I await a familiar voice that will remind me of my new life and how I will soon be back to it.

  ‘Hey, you might change your mind when you hear why I’m calling,’ she starts, and I feel my face fall. ‘Mia, you haven’t sent any work, we are seriously behind with the project, Savannah and Molly are on the verge of a fucking breakdown, the boss is majorly pissed. We need you back here.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be back in a few days, so don’t worry.’

  ‘Mia, the boss wants you back now, or else.’

  ‘He realises it’s quite far?’ I ask sarcastically.

  ‘He does. He wants you to catch a flight ASAP and be in the office tomorrow.’

  ‘The wedding is tomorrow,’ I tell her, but she already knew that. ‘Level with me, Dalia. How serious is he?’

  ‘Super serious,’ she tells me. ‘He says you have to show him you’re willing to commit to this one hundred percent. He’s worried you’re becoming a bit of a liability.’

  Bloody hell, you turn up late now and then, sleep with the occasional co-worker, take owed vacation days to go home for your sister’s wedding and suddenly you’re a liability. When I took the job I knew that it was going to be demanding, and at the time it wasn’t a problem – but it’s this damn wedding, it’s ruining my life.

  ‘OK, I’ll sort it. I’ll find a flight and I’ll be back tomorrow. You can promise the boss,’ I assure her. Well, what else can I do? My job is on the line and it’s all I’ve got left. I’ve burned whatever bridges I had left with the family – and those flimsy old, petrol soaked rope bridges disintegrated to nothing pretty quickly – Leo hates me, and he was right, my job is the most important thing in my life. I can’t afford to lose it, it’s not just what I do, it’s who I am.

  Let’s be honest, no one even wants me at this wedding now. I’ve trashed my sister’s wedding plans, broken Leo’s heart, thrown a spanner into my auntie and cousin’s world… I know I would half-joke that everyone hated me before, but now I think they truly do. There’s nothing to stay here for – so the sooner I leave, the better.

  Chapter 43

  I woke up with a start – and in a cold sweat, as the sweet dream I’d been having turned into a screaming nightmare. I was dreaming about the wedding and it was weird, because the cake was there, only it was after I sat on it, so it was totally destroyed but no one acted any differently. Then, suddenly, I was with Leo. We were holding hands and smiling, walking down the street as the sun shone and the birds sang, it was beautiful. Then we happened upon a burning building and I screamed after him as he ran inside – I don’t even think there was anyone in there, I think he was trying to get away from me. That’s when I woke up and realised it was three a.m., and that I was still here.

  I’m not only warm, I’m really thirsty. I hid in my room for most of last night, I just couldn’t face anyone. The good news is that I managed to book myself a flight for the morning but I’m yet to break the news to anyone. Still, they’ll probably be relieved when I do tell them.

  I grab one of my beach dresses and slip it on over my underwear so that I can go downstairs and grab a drink while everyone else is sleeping. The moon is bright tonight, illuminating the house just enough so that I don’t have to turn the lights on, which is fortunate, because I’m terrified of waking anyone. I tiptoe through the kitchen and open the fridge, which lights the room a little better, just as I hear a voice behind me.

  ‘Hello,’ my sister says from the kitchen table.

  I jump out of my skin.

  ‘What is it with people sitting in this room in the dark?’ I can’t help but ask.

  ‘I know, if only people would turn lights on…’ she replies.

  I know what she’s getting at, I’m surprised she’s even speaking to me though.

/>   ‘Sometimes it’s better to be in the dark,’ I sigh, closing the fridge door behind me and then heading for the hallway.

  ‘Wait,’ my sister calls after me.

  I flick the light on and look at her, just to make sure I didn’t just imagine her encouraging me to stay in the same room.

  ‘Sit down,’ she insists.

  I cautiously do as she asks, not entirely convinced she isn’t hiding a weapon under the table.

  ‘I hear you baked,’ she says softly, looking at her hands as she speaks to me.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘I left them in the fridge at Shell’s. I have a photo though.’

  I have my phone with me – I never like to be too far from it, especially in hostile territory – so I show my sister a photo, careful not to get too close in case this is some kind of trap.

  ‘You made those?’ she asks, her eyes widening as she looks at them. My cupcakes are by no means amazing, but even I was impressed by how well they turned out. I didn’t know I had it in me.

  I nod my head.

  ‘They match the colour scheme and the flowers,’ she tells me.

  ‘Yeah, well I thought that would be the best way to go,’ I explain. ‘I just wanted to fix the mistake. It really was a mistake, Belle.’

  She exhales deeply.

  ‘I know. It’s just… it was a big mistake.’

  My sister lets out a little laugh but I’m still too terrified to join in.

  ‘Planning a wedding is stressful,’ she tells me. ‘It’s not like it is in your movies.’

  ‘Nothing in real life is how it is in my movies,’ I tell her. The same thing I keep telling everyone when they meet me and expect a slushy romantic. They expect love to be my life, for me to have been planning my own wedding since I was a child – they probably suspect I have a scrapbook that I carry around with me with clippings and collages. What no one expects, and what they actually get, is someone as together as Britney Spears circa 2007 with the love life of Lindsay Lohan.