Nice Day For a White Wedding

by A. L. Michael

  ‘We check the winds, if it’s okay in an hour, we go.’

  He shrugged again and walked off. Chelsea stood impatiently by the harbour, walking back and forth. Part of her was tempted to explore, see some more of the beautiful village, but if the boat left without her, she’d be screwed. She took comfort in the fact that Kit would still be at the wedding, not even knowing she’d gone yet. She dreaded the moment her phone started ringing and he started demanding answers. She dreaded even more the idea that he might not call at all. That he might be relieved.

  But she couldn’t focus on that now.

  She sat in a cafe opposite the port, and watched as the boat just sat there. Irate tourists came and went, but still the boat didn’t go.

  ‘Get the coach, if I was you,’ an English tourist on the next table said to her, nodding. ‘When this happens, you never know how long it’ll be. It’s fine for us, we’ve got nowhere to be, but if you need to go, take the bus, that’ll get you down south.’

  By this point, the wind had started, a spattering of rain but with blue skies holding strong. But tables wobbled at the port, napkins and cutlery littering the floor as waitresses didn’t even bother picking it up.

  An hour later, she was on a coach, heading south to Desenzano. It was muggy and hot, though the wind had picked up and the grey, angry skies started crowing. The coach was packed, all those disappointed holidaymakers grumbling about the ridiculousness of the boat system, wondering how people managed to live like that. Chelsea stared emptily out of the window until she fell asleep, head flat against the glass.

  The journey offered too much time to think, and the only thing she hadn’t thought of was how many euros she’d need to get home. Kit had sorted out the money and she hadn’t felt right taking any from their shared holiday fund. She looked up the train times on her phone, and instead, shook her head and walked into the first hotel in Desenzano, asking them to book her a cab to the airport.

  The wedding felt like days ago, but as she looked at the dark sky and the debris scattered in the road from the window of the taxi, she felt a certain smugness that, whilst Tatty wouldn’t mind at all, Celeste would be devastated. Or plumaged, according to her advanced vocabulary. That gave Chelsea the tiniest bit of comfort, and that comfort lasted her, through the painfully expensive cab fare, the hours spent waiting in the tiny departure lounge of Verona airport, and the slow, dreary flight home. She arrived much as she’d gone, with no ring, no expectations and no plan. Except she was coming home without Kit, and that ring that had sat on her finger for a week or so, marking her as an imposter, was suddenly gone. The white line on her otherwise tanned hand was the only sign it had ever been there. Her left hand was perfectly naked, and yet, at the same time, she was herself again. Just Chelsea. No one’s fiancée, no one’s partner, no one’s anything. It was just Chelsea, who touched down at Luton airport like a ghost, alternatively rushing and dawdling in her journey towards her brother, and a truth she’d rather not know.

  ‘Chelsea Donovan, I’m Tyler Donnolly’s sister? I was told he was here?’ Chelsea looked around the building with tired eyes, dragging at her face with her hand. It had taken hours to get from Luton back into town, so she could get a train out to Milton Keynes. Then there’d been the cab to the station. She was pretty sure she’d used so many forms of travel in the last twenty-four hours that she wasn’t even sure what day it was.

  ‘Ah yes, he’s almost ready to go, Miss Donnolly.’

  ‘Go?’

  The woman behind the desk nodded, ‘he’ll be out soon, they’re just finishing processing. Have a seat.’

  Chelsea did. She sat and she read every form on the side. She read about the dangers of drug use, how consent was defined, how to find a local defence class, how to stay safe with your phone. She was just learning how to start an application to work for the police force, when Ty arrived.

  He looked bruised and exhausted, and so young. There was a bruise above his eye, purple and angry and when he saw her he launched himself at her with a sob. Chelsea rocked her younger brother side to side, her hand on the back of his closely shaven head. It reminded her of when she was a kid, looking down at this tiny person her mum had brought home and left in the corner, of how she wanted to love and protect him, because no one else would.

  ‘So…I can take him? You’re sure?’

  ‘His lawyer’s been in and made a decent case for him being allowed to go home, as long as he’s with a guardian. I assume that’s you?’

  ‘Apparently so,’ Chelsea shrugged, grabbing his coat.

  ‘We may have some more questions further down the line.’ The woman tried for stern, but could see the tiredness in Chelsea’s eyes. ‘But don’t worry. It’ll all be all right.’

  They stood outside the police station, leaning against the wall. Tyler shook two cigarettes out of a packet and handed one to her. She lit up and handed him the lighter she always kept in her purse, an old habit from her waitressing days. A good waitress always has a lighter and a pen. She’d always thought it funny the boss had never mentioned ‘bottle opener’ as one of the necessary items.

  They smoked silently, watching the night pass by, and Chelsea felt the chill as they stood. Mere hours ago she’d been in Italy, and here she was.

  ‘So,’ Tyler said, ‘…what the fuck happened to your eyebrows?’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘What about Ty?’ Ruby asked her one day in the library, when she was cramming for a science test. Chelsea had been getting a lot of shit for her change from resident hard girl to sudden boffin, and Ruby seemed to hover more than ever these days, as if she was protecting her.

  ‘What about Ty?’ Chelsea frowned, flicking through the pages of her text book. She looked over and Ruby was doodling pictures of guitars and broken hearts, the jagged little lines looking angry.

  ‘He’ll be left behind.’ Ruby doodled harder, the dark pen lines going through the paper. Her hair was huge and curly and she looked at Chelsea with a wisdom that made her uncomfortable. ‘Take it from someone who knows, you never forget the people who leave you behind.’

  ‘What am I meant to do, take him to uni with me? Hide him under the bed in my room?’ Chelsea threw her pen down on the table, frustrated. ‘I thought you were with me on this, you’ve been here every step of the way. Suddenly you don’t think I should go?’

  ‘Of course you should go, I’m just saying, don’t let him feel left behind. He’s only little. He won’t know why you’re going,’ Ruby shrugged.

  ‘I’m going so I can make a better life for him, for them. So he doesn’t have to worry about money, doesn’t have to live off tinned ravioli forever.’

  A part of Chelsea wasn’t sure if that was true. Sure, it sounded good. It sounded selfless. Let me go off to uni and start a new life, but don’t worry, I’m doing it for you.

  ‘Just…don’t forget where you came from,’ Ruby shrugged, twirling the pen in her fingers, and Chelsea watched for a moment, entranced by the way the light shone against Ruby’s red hair, the swirling motion of the pen in between those long, pale fingers with the chipped purple nail varnish. She knew, instantly and completely nonsensically, that she would remember this moment, that it would be burnt into her brain, though she couldn’t figure out why, because it didn’t seem important at all.

  ‘Who left you, Rubes?’ she said suddenly, shocked she’d never asked the question before.

  Ruby raised an eyebrow and smirked, ‘According to the paperwork, a young drug addict who wasn’t ready to be a mum, and a guy who wasn’t much more than an accidental sperm donor.’

  ‘So you’re better off without them, really.’

  ‘Hard to know that when you’re never given the choice.’ Ruby smiled openly, as if she was talking about anything, about the weather or the latest song she heard on the radio. ‘I want you guys to leave first, to go off to uni and college and whatever, you guys should be the ones to leave.’

  ‘But you’re going to leave too, you’re
going to London. Finish the year, get the grades, have a killer party, and off we go?’

  ‘Sometimes we can’t plan,’ Ruby shrugged, ‘we can just hope for the best. But I’d much rather you guys left me behind than the other way around. It’s good to have a choice.’

  ‘We’re all going, Ruby, the summer’s not far away now.’ Chelsea squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll be watching you on stage before you know it.’

  ‘Depends if Foster Mummy Dearest doesn’t get rid of me before then.’ Ruby raised an eyebrow. ‘Either way, I’m making it to London. The same way you’re making it to Oxford. Death before dishonour and all that shit.’

  ‘Bit much.’

  ‘Not enough,’ Ruby grinned, biting the end of the pen. ‘Just don’t forget about the people you leave behind.’

  ***

  In the end, it had seemed easier to take Ty back to London with her. They sat on the train, him in his oversized hoodie, even as she was sweltering with the heat of a London summer. She hadn’t asked any questions, simply led him back to her flat, threw some blankets and pillows on the tiny futon in the corner of the room. She showered, changed into her pyjamas and made two cups of tea and some toast, finding some peanut butter in the cupboard.

  She placed the mug of tea and the plate of toast down on the tiny table next to her brother, and left without looking at him.

  ‘Chels—’

  ‘Not tonight, Ty. I can’t. Tomorrow.’

  She pulled out the Japanese-style room divider with the golden birds on, and set it up at the end of her bed, separating the tiny room and turning out the light. She heard shuffling as her brother set out the blankets, saw the light from his phone and heard the slow slurping of tea, the crunch of toast and then nothing.

  Chelsea lay in the dark, suddenly, painfully awake, so that when she heard the sad little sniffles start, the desperate shuffling of someone stuffing their fist in their mouth and covering themselves with blankets to cover the sobs, she knew exactly how he felt. Part of her wanted to walk through, gather him up and cuddle him like she had when he was a child, the other wanted to sit and get him to talk it out. But painfully, selfishly, Chelsea had no energy left. The space that held all the guilt, hurt, betrayal and fear had been replaced by exhaustion and numbness.

  At least he feels something, she thought to herself, as she rolled over and thought of nothing at all, until her mind slipped blissfully into a dark, dreamless sleep.

  When she woke the next morning, Chelsea felt marginally more capable of dealing with things. She peered around the divider and saw her gawky brother, his feet hanging off the edge of the tiny futon like he was a giant having a nap on a postage stamp. It was pathetic. At first glance, she thought he was asleep; he was lying staring straight up at the ceiling, his arms folded.

  ‘You sleep okay?’

  He looked at her, then looked down at the futon, but decided not to comment. ‘It was fine.’

  Well, that was a bad sign. Ty would normally have gone off on one about the ridiculousness of the tiny sofa. Maybe if he was in a good mood, he would have made jokes about it for the rest of the day, comparing all the tiny things around him to the bed. He could be quite funny when he wanted to be, he looked handsome when he smiled. Less like a thug.

  ‘You should probably call and let Mum know where you are. You don’t have to tell her anything…’ Chelsea handed him a mug of tea, and sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands grasping her own mug.

  Ty looked at her, and she couldn’t tell what that expression was. Hurt? Humour? Like she was stupid and she should know better? He untangled himself from the sheets and sat up, reaching for the tea. ‘She knows. I called her.’

  ‘Last night?’

  ‘No. They called her when I got arrested. She said I was a piece of scum like my dad and it would save me time getting arrested now. That there was no point coming home.’ His voice caught on the word ‘home’ and Chelsea chose to ignore it. He wouldn’t like it if she ran in all mother hen.

  ‘You know what she’s like, probably thinks it’s tough love or something.’

  ‘Nah, she wanted rid of me, and this was as easy as any. One less mouth to feed. One less problem.’ Tyler laughed coldly, rolling his eyes. ‘And I did it to myself.’

  ‘Come on then, what happened?’ Chelsea settled herself, leaning in, and her brother tilted his head, his light eyes just like their dad’s. Chelsea’s were darker, more grey. But Ty, he had the brightest, lightest blue eyes, they could be hypnotic if he ever made eye contact with anyone. However, they were usually hidden beneath a baseball cap.

  ‘Tell me, Chels. You’re the one who went to the big posh school. Tell me what happened.’

  It was a challenge.

  ‘Dad spent some time with you and you finally felt like you belonged, like you found someone like you. Because he can do that, make you feel like you’re the only person in the world.’ She bit her lip. ‘And he’d been so kind, so desperate to make amends, that when he asks for your help on a little business deal, just something to get him back on his feet again, no big deal, you say yes. You say, I’d love to help, Dad. And he says he’s proud of you and so grateful and you feel like a big damn hero who gets the loving parent he finally deserves after all those years.’

  Tyler glared at her as she paused to sip her tea. ‘Well, go on. What next?’

  ‘The business deal isn’t business, it’s another half-baked robbery attempt, because the man always thinks that this time, he’ll get it right, this time he’ll be rich, because he deserves it. He puts you as a look out, but in the end, he tries to drag you in further. He fucks it up, the police arrive and Daddy Dearest doesn’t even think to protect his son. He squeals for a better deal inside. And you end up in a police cell.’ Chelsea took a deep breath, her hands shaking. ‘How am I doing?’

  ‘Pretty fucking spot on.’

  ‘How’d they let you out?’ Chelsea asked. ‘That’s the only bit I can’t figure out.’

  ‘This lawyer, told me to sit down and shut up and not say a word, that my dad had screwed me over and I didn’t owe him anything. Just told me to nod when he nodded and stay quiet.’ Ty rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Bit of a rude bastard, smelled like booze and stuff but he was fucking good. Said he’d sort out the paperwork and all that.’

  ‘Well, that’s something.’

  Ty put his head in his hands. ‘I’m a fucking idiot, Chels, I know what you said, he just seemed so…’

  ‘Charming? Loving? Kind?’

  ‘Real,’ Tyler snorted. ‘Not even sure what that means.’

  Chelsea shrugged and sipped her tea, staring at the wall.

  ‘And I ruined your perfect holiday, as part of your perfect life. Dad said you were abroad when he called you.’

  ‘Italy.’ She shook her head. ‘Kit took me there as a surprise. He proposed.’

  Tyler frowned and looked at her hand. ‘Posh boys don’t bother with rings?’

  ‘Lasted about a week. We were done before I came home. If it makes you feel any better, you gave me a good excuse to leave.’ She held up her mug to toast him.

  ‘How does that happen? You’re with the guy forever, he proposes and you leave? That’s fucked up.’

  Chelsea snorted. ‘His family were…well, there’s rich and then there’s rich.’

  ‘So, good for you. I’m up for a bigger allowance once you’re in there.’

  Chelsea thwacked him half-heartedly, a small smile on her face before she could stop it.

  ‘They were stuck up, posh rich people. They set their private investigators on me, found out things about my past, about how I spend my money, about you guys and Ruby and…’

  ‘– and who you were. The stuff you’re ashamed of.’

  ‘I’m not ashamed,’ Chelsea said, frowning. ‘It’s just no one’s business.’

  Ty lounged back against the sofa. ‘Don’t tell me this prick dumped you over that? That’s bullshit, not accepting where people are from.’

  �
�What, if some hoity toity rich girl came along and liked you, you’d give her a chance, wouldn’t judge her?’

  Tyler looked down at his stained T-shirt, baggy tracksuit bottoms and scuffed trainers, and laughed. ‘Yeah, all the posh birds are lining up for a bit of rough, innit?’ He snorted, shaking his head. ‘But yeah, all right, I’d make some jokes and stuff, but you’ve gotta let people be who they are. That’s what I’ve been telling you all these years when you keep going on at me about uni and college and stuff. People are who they are.’

  Chelsea nodded, silently.

  ‘Tell you what though, Jay, man, he’s smart. He could go to uni like you, if you show him. He’s well into learning and stuff. Proper good at maths, like some genius stuff. You should talk to him. He thinks you’re the best fucking person he’s ever met.’

  ‘Yeah well, buying a kid some Air Maxes will do that.’

  ‘Nah, he wants to be like you.’

  Chelsea shook her head. ‘He wants to be someone who spends their whole life pretending they didn’t come from an estate, didn’t have a shitty mother, didn’t have some horrible things happen? He’s better being like you. You’re real about who you are.’

  Tyler rubbed his head, taking the baseball cap off and throwing it on the side. ‘Nah, sis. I was just too scared to try to be anything else. And here I am, just like Dad. Funny how it works, innit?’

  They sat in silence for a while, exhausted by the first real conversation they’d had in what felt like forever. And then the moment passed. Chelsea made more tea and toast, and they put Jeremy Kyle on the television, listing all the ways in which those people were more messed up than they were, and laughing properly together for once.

  ‘Chels, listen, you think you could lend me some cash? To get some underwear and clothes and stuff, innit?’

  Chelsea looked at her brother in his baggy, stained clothes and pursed her lips. ‘Do I get a say in what you buy?’

  He shrugged. ‘’S your money. As long as it ain’t a bright orange jumpsuit, I’m all good, yeah?’