The Two-Night One-Night Wedding

by Ryan Ringbloom

  My gut tightens. She’s right. They are all gonna know. I’m marrying into a family where I am forfeiting all privacy. My family may be a bunch of kooks, but at least we keep our secrets to ourselves. All bottled up and hidden under sarcastic comments and bitterness like a normal family should. My mother and sister are happily not attending my bachelorette party, and that’s the way it should be. Some things family does not need to be a part of.

  “I have to go. Jayne is probably waiting for me.” Ashley may find out what happened, but she will not hear it from me. I sling my bag over my shoulder and grasp the laptop under my arm. “Thanks, Ashley.” I turn and bump into Ella, and just from that small interaction I am dusted in a sheen of gold glitter.

  “See you again tomorrow?” Ashley asks, reaching for her daughter and scrubbing her down with a wet dish towel. I see Stacy in the corner of the kitchen with her phone directed at us. “Is that recording? What did I tell you about doing that, Stacy Marie?”

  Oh God. Now I’m being captured on film. My life is turning into a bad episode of Keeping up with the Danielses.

  “Not tomorrow. I have yoga and then”—it’s back to Dunkin’ Donuts—“I have errands to run.”

  “Oh, too bad. I like having you around.” Ashley frowns. “Maybe Thursday?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I need some space. This was nice, but perhaps it’s a bit too much.

  “Holly, don’t worry about Grace. Believe me, she’s seen it all. And you are so having a bachelorette party, don’t even try backing out of it. Grace will be fine with whatever craziness Jayne has planned, and Robin and I can’t wait for a wild night out.”

  “What’s a bashler ret party?” Ella asks.

  “A grown-up party for the bride.”

  “I wanna go.”

  “No.”

  “What? We aren’t going?” Lola and her tween attitude are back for round two. “I thought we were part of the wedding. Why can’t we go?”

  “Is there going to be sex there?” Karlie asks.

  “What?” Ashley’s eyes bug out. “How do you know that word?”

  I sneak away unnoticed and break into a run to get out of the house. There are so many Daniels’ family members. Big ones, little ones, glittery ones, meddling ones. Yes, my own family is crazy, but I’ve never spent an exorbitant amount of time with them like I do with Matthew’s family. And although I love this family I’m about to be part of, lately I feel like I eat, sleep, and breathe them. There’s no escape.

  If this is what it’s like now, what is it going to be like after we get married?

  I TURN THE radio up in my car to help keep me awake. I stayed three hours past my shift helping out with the overwhelming number of patients the ER was hit with. What is it about a full moon that makes people go crazy? One woman actually howled at me when I tried to take her blood pressure. She claimed she had been bitten by a werewolf, but I’m pretty sure those were her own bite marks on her arm.

  The house is dark as I pull up and park. My body aches to be in bed cuddled up with Holly and to sleep for the next ten hours, until it’s time for me to get up and do it all over again.

  As I creep up the stairs, I see the light coming out from under the bedroom door. Yes. She waited up for me. Maybe she roped the beds together? Sweet. I’m tired, but not that tired.

  I open the door, stopping dead in my tracks as I absorb the new arrangement. It takes a full minute to even process what I see. The beds are no longer together; they’ve been moved, separated into an L. One bed is along the wall, and the other has been repositioned against the connecting wall under my window. Holly lies on her side, propped up on her elbow watching a show on her laptop.

  “You moved the beds?” I’m dumbfounded by the new look of our room.

  “Mm-hmm. And I’m watching the new episode of Jeopardy! without you, too,” she says, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Spoiler alert, the final question is, What is taxidermy?”

  This is not good. I know I’m in trouble, big trouble. I just don’t know for what.

  “What’s going on?” Is this about last night? It’s hard looking at her swollen eye without feeling awful all over again.

  “Did you get my text before?”

  “My phone died, and it was a crazy night. Did something happen?” The answer to that question is an obvious yes.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I started making the arrangements for the honeymoon. I wanted to run a few things by you first,” she says through tight lips.

  Fuck. She knows. But instead of just telling me she knows and getting this conversation started, we’re gonna play a game first. I lift up my glasses and rub my eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Holly. I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how.”

  “So, it’s true? We have to take our honeymoon before the wedding?”

  “I can’t get the time off the week after. I’m lucky to have even gotten off what I did. You have to put in months in advance, and everything happened so quickly, it was too late when I put in the request.” I walk over and sit on the edge of her bed. “But we can still have an amazing time. We can leave the second my shift ends that Sunday and be back the night before the wedding. We can even fly in the morning of the wedding if we want.”

  “I can take a twelve-hour flight and arrive home just in time for my wedding. Is that what you’re suggesting?” Her tone lets me know I’ve just qualified as the world’s dumbest man.

  “No,” I respond quickly, gawking awkwardly down at my feet.

  “It’s fine, Matthew,” she says, sliding her laptop under the bed and then burrowing underneath the covers. “It just sucks, that’s all.” She rolls over in her own private bed and faces the wall. I place a hand on her shoulder, and she jerks it away from my touch with a childish grunt.

  Exhausted, stressed, and defeated, I’m left to strip out of my scrubs and climb into my assigned bed alone. Our heads are lined up in the corner where the two beds meet. The room is so quiet. After ten minutes of the silent treatment, I can take no more.

  “I love you,” I take a chance and say to my bunk mate, keeping my fingers crossed that she’s not too angry to say it back.

  “I love you, too,” she replies in a soft voice.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Not just for this, but for all of it. The wedding, the honeymoon, living with my parents. I’m sorry that I’m not able to give you all the things you dreamed of.”

  Holly rolls over and gets up from her bed. She tiptoes over and squishes tightly into my twin. One arm and one leg extend over me in a half cuddle/half attempt to stay in without falling.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “You’re my dream. That’s all that matters.” She shifts to adjust her grip. “I’m sorry I was upset and that I watched Jeopardy! without you. It was just the crazy mishap last night, then spending the day at Ashley’s and trying to make excuses for my bruised face, then meeting Jayne so that I didn’t have to face your mom… I’m just spent. If we need to take our honeymoon before the wedding, it’s okay. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.” She tilts her head and kisses the base of my neck. It’s all she can really reach, due to our cramped position.

  “I love you, Holly, and we’re still gonna have a great honeymoon. I promise.” I inch my arm under her back as far as it will go, and reach for her breast, giving it a firm squeeze.

  “Um, what are you doing?” She arches away from my wandering hand.

  “Come here and I’ll show you.” I try urging her body on top of mine.

  “Oh, no. Nuh-uh. I was serious when I said no more sex while we’re here.”

  “No sex, but we can—”

  “Nope. Nothing. This shop is remaining closed while we are in port Daniels. In fact, I better get back over to my bed right now.” She gets up and scurries back over to her own bed.

  “Holly, our apartment isn’t going to be ready until September. I can’t wait that long. I will die.” I. Will. Die.

  “Well, th
en I guess we better start planning our honeymoon. That’s only a few weeks away.” Holly giggles into the darkness.

  A few weeks. I run a hand through my hair and fidget to find a comfortable position in my old bed. I’ll never survive. Which is crazy, because before Holly I had barely even had sex, and I survived. What do I do? I ask myself and wait for a voice to reply. Silence.

  Holy shit, what am I doing? No, no, no. Old habits.

  Me and him. We don’t talk anymore.

  I RELAX MY arms and legs on the purple yoga mat and breathe deep, aware of my chest and abdomen rising.

  Shavasana. My favorite part of yoga.

  “Let your body move deeper and deeper into a state of total relaxation.” The yoga instructor clinks her little brass gong.

  I close my eyes, waiting for my mind to relax and go blank into a meditative state. It doesn’t. Too much floats around in my head. The wedding, the bachelorette party that’s only a few days away, and now the honeymoon that has still yet to be planned. Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m forgetting something.

  “Open your eyes. Bring back your awareness to the surroundings of the room. Roll onto your right side and gently use your hand to press your body back up.” The instructor brings her palms together over her chest. “Namaste.”

  “Namaste,” I say quickly, and kneel to roll up my mat. I’m sweaty and sore and in need of a hot shower.

  Jayne is on the mat next to me and already has her phone out. I crane my neck and catch a glimpse of profile pics sliding by. “Nope. Nope. No fucking way.” Her finger furiously swipes left. Since her breakup with Juan, she has been in panic mode to find a new man. “There are no good men on this app. Just assholes looking to get fucked.” An older woman gasps and gives Jayne a look of disgust. “Oh, get over it, Grandma.” Jayne waves her off dismissively.

  The woman storms off, horrified. I don’t blame her. This is the third yoga place Jayne and I have relocated ourselves to, because when Jayne has a bad day, so must everyone around her. Not exactly the yogi way. I think she may be missing the point of yoga.

  “Jayne, really? You need to control yourself.”

  “This is not the ’50s. I can say fuck if I want.” Jayne cups her hands over her mouth and addresses the stragglers still in the room packing up their gear. “Attention everyone! Fuckity fuck fuck fuck! And if you fuckers don’t like it you can nama-stay home.”

  “Jayne!” I grab her hand and pull her off to the side, out of sight. “What the hell? What has gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. Only that I realized I’m going to be alone forever.”

  “You’re not going to be alone forever. You’re gonna find someone great, fall in love, and live happily ever after. I promise.”

  “That’s total bullshit and you know it,” she bites. “Want to hear something crazy? No, make that insane. My brother met someone. My brother. And last night he told us they are ring shopping. Can you even fucking believe that?”

  No. No, I cannot. Jayne set me up on a blind date with her brother before I met Matthew. We went on one date. The guy is the biggest douche on earth. Seriously, he could win a contest.

  “Jayne, you are going to meet the perfect someone very soon.” I’m sure of it. She’s beautiful and intelligent; maybe she could tone down the anger issues, but otherwise she’s a catch. Men drool over her.

  “I did. Juan. He was perfect in every way except that he deals drugs. I can’t be with a drug dealer.” She drops her shoulders and stares up at the ceiling. “Can I?”

  “You have no proof that’s what he does. You’re just guessing. Why don’t you just talk to him? Maybe you can work things out?”

  “Excuse me.” The yoga instructor approaches us gingerly, and it’s easy to see that her bright blue Lululemon pants are in a bunch. “My studio is a sanctuary for love and light. No anger, no judgment, and no pain.”

  “We know. Don’t worry. We’ll go somewhere else for our love and light from now on. I’m sorry,” I apologize for Jayne, and the woman breathes a sigh of relief and gives us a curt bow before prancing away. Dammit. We’re running out of studios. Soon, we’re gonna have no other options but to stream yoga videos and do it in Jayne’s living room. We grab our stuff and exit the facility.

  “You want to do a late lunch?” Jayne nods to the diner across the street.

  “I’m kinda sweaty, but yeah, I guess I can. Just give me a sec to check in with work real quick.” I retrieve my phone from my bag. As usual, the home screen is covered with Instagram alerts and missed messages, but there’s also a calendar reminder loaded with exclamation points. Huh? I quickly type in my code and click on the reminder. Have I forgotten something important for work?

  Appointment with Dr. Powers!!!!! 4pm. Show up early to fill in paperwork!!!! Don’t forget!!!!!!

  Holy. Shit. The new gynecologist. The one Robin recommended. The one with the two-month waiting list. I glance at the clock. 3:37 p.m. Crap. What do I do? I can’t miss this appointment. And not just because I was referred by Robin and it’ll take months to get another appointment, but because I need my birth control refilled. Less than three weeks until our honeymoon, and even though I’ve put the kibosh on sex, the way things tend to work out for us, I cannot take a chance.

  “Jayne, forget lunch. I gotta go. I totally forgot all about an appointment. I’ll call you later.” I throw my mat and bag in the back seat, plonk down, slam the door, and start the car. Jayne gives me a puzzled look, but I have no time to explain. Shit. Shit. Shit. How could I have forgotten?

  I barrel down the road way over the speed limit until I reach the train tracks. Red lights flash and the barricade lowers. I peer down the tracks and see no end to the colorful box cars starting to pass by. I’ll be stuck here for at least five minutes. I slam my head back on the headrest and close my eyes.

  Just relax. No need to panic. I open one eye and look at the clock. 3:40. It takes less than ten minutes to get to the Danielses’ from here, and the doctor’s office is only about five minutes away from their house. That leaves me five minutes to run in quick and take a shower. Only five minutes to wash off yoga sweat before a gynecological exam. Gross.

  I look up and scream at the train in anger. “Move!” Every second is precious. The train continues to chug on by at a seemingly snail’s pace. “Move, move, move!” It’s a desperate plea. I’m now down to a four-minute shower… three. There is no way I can skip out on the shower. I would rather die than go to the gynecologist without showering, let alone after a sweaty workout. Three minutes… two. Shit.

  The last box car passes by and slowly the gates lift. I take off like I’m Danica Patrick with a revved-up start, feeling my stomach drop. It almost feels as if I’m airborne, flying over the tracks. I speed down the road and shave a full minute off my time, where I see Mrs. Daniels’s car in the driveway. Crap. That means I’ll need to waste at least thirty seconds making small talk, explaining my crazed rush.

  “Hi, it’s me, Holly,” I holler into the house, seeing no sign of Mrs. Daniels. “I forgot about an appointment and I’m super late. I need to jump in the shower and go. Okay?” I hope I’m heard and won’t need to give any further details. Taking the stairs two at a time, I run toward the bathroom, already starting to lift my shirt. With a free hand I twist the doorknob. It’s locked. What?

  “Sorry, I’m in here,” a little voice yells out.

  “Lola?” I question. “Is that you? What are you doing here?”

  “No, it’s Nina. We have cheer and I’m using Grandma’s bathroom to get ready ’cause she has the glitter over here, but I think I used too much. I’m trying to wash it.”

  Glitter. Shit. This is my fault. I was supposed to tell Mrs. Daniels no more glitter.

  “Oh, um… hon, I really need to use the bathroom. Can you come out so I can get in real quick?”

  “One or two?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have to go one or two?”

  I love them dearly, but why
are little kids such buttheads sometimes? “I just need to use the shower. I’m all sweaty and I have a doctor’s appointment in—” I look at the clock in the hall. “—in five minutes. Oh gosh, please hurry.”

  “Okay,” she says through the door, but as I stand there tapping my foot waiting, she doesn’t emerge.

  “Nina?”

  “One more sec.”

  I wait as “one more sec” becomes more like two more minutes.

  The door finally opens and out walks my sparkling little soon-to-be niece.

  “Whoa, Nina, that’s a lot of glitter.”

  “You can still see it? I thought I got it all off.” She examines her arms, and I don’t know how she doesn’t see that she looks like a miniaturized version of C-3PO.

  “Eh, you’re fine. You can’t really see it,” I fib. I can’t risk telling her she needs to keep scrubbing, and squeeze past her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. The counter is a disaster of hair bows and piles of gold glitter. It appears Nina was not the only one over here sneaking in some of grandma’s secret stash.

  I start the water in the shower and shut it off. Do I even have time to shower? I’m already late, but if I’m too late they might cancel the appointment on me. There’s no time. What do I do? I groan out a sigh, knowing the only answer. Running the water in the sink instead, I grab a washcloth off the counter. This is horrific, what I’m about to do, but there isn’t really any other option. I must go for the dreaded spot wash. Pumping a squirt of liquid soap onto the washcloth, I lower my sweaty yoga pants and try to make myself as presentable as possible in the shortest amount of time.

  This is disgusting.

  I’m disgusting.

  But I have no time for self-loathing at the moment; there’ll be plenty of time for that later. I go in for a second squirt of soap and do a quick wash to both armpits, finishing off the “bath” with a quick spritz of scented hairspray because that’s all I can find. I toss the washcloth into the hamper and lean over to smile into the mirror for a teeth check. Normally, I would brush my teeth before an appointment, but today gum is going to have to do the trick.