by Nicky Webber
He waited for the chuckling to die down. ‘I’ll still love you if you leave me, if you decide you’ve had enough of my early morning farting, my loud singing at ball-games or my complete unobservant disregard of your newest haircut. I will love you when you randomly use the last of the milk while I’m making myself a coffee. Even when you get annoyed after I’ve left the toilet seat up, and you fall into the bowl attempting that midnight pee.’ More loud laughter. ‘And in front of these wonderful witnesses, know that I will love you always.’
Maddy smiled, her eyes welling up with emotion. She turned to face the congregation. ‘I’ll need a few moments.’ She beamed at the expectant faces surrounding them both. Dressed in a deep indigo blue wedding gown, soft layered fabric hugged Maddy’s tall, slender body. Her dark eyes sparkled at Fred, delighted, like the master of the universe. His imaginary universe, of course.
‘I promise to guide and direct you in every endeavor.’ Everyone grinned broadly, their eyes resting intently on the happy couple. ‘Including all the projects you start. I will be beside you forever making sure you finish them too.’ She turned and raised her eyebrows at the gathering. They all laughed, recalling the many undertakings Fred had started, from organic gardening to a self-styled water heating system with hose pipes coiled like black snakes on their corrugated roof. It had been a year, and the solar heated water system still wasn’t fully functional.
A tall man with a dark beard and an ill-fitting suit shouted above the crowd. ‘Good luck with that, Maddy!’ Followed by more collective cheering and laughter.
‘I promise to always love you,’ she continued, pausing for effect. ‘Even when you rarely forget to put the toilet seat down!’ She giggled and waited for silence from the gathering. ‘From the first time I saw you, I was awestruck by your mere presence. I always knew we would spend the rest of our lives together. Here we are today, sharing our vows and our love with everyone that matters. I will love and understand you, will care and cajole you, but one thing’s always been absolute, you are my best friend and the love of my life forever.’
Loud cheers and hoots from the gathering confirmed how impressed they were. ‘Whoooooaaaaahhhh,’ came the collective cry as the happy pair leaned in and kissed one another.
Logan and Mila were next, stepping up to the make-shift garden podium, where their shared celebrant welcomed them in front of the wedding guests. They also exchanged their vows of devotion to hoots of love and laughter from the friends and family watching the ceremony. Logan forgot a few words in the middle of his marriage vows, and Fred, acting as his best man, bent forward and whispered them in his ear, much to the joy of the onlookers. The celebrations began with dancing and eating, Champagne bubbling in effervescent delight in everyone’s glasses, as raucous laughter and music played into the small hours.
In the small dark hours of early morning, an inebriated, newly married, Logan cornered Maddy on the veranda of the private boutique hotel. The music quietly played with a few stragglers spread around the manicured gardens, while four determined wedding guests slowly danced around the function room floor.
‘Connngrachoolashuns darhhhhling,’ Logan slurred, slightly unstable and reaching out his right hand to steady himself on the wooden railing.
Dressed in her wedding finery, minus the flowers from her hair, Maddy giggled, feeling heady with delight at their combined marriage celebration. She instinctively put her hand up to Logan’s chest to steady him. ‘Where’s Mrs. Mila Jones?’ she asked, looking over his shoulder.
‘I’m not shaaaw,’ he responded, placing an arm around her shoulders. ‘You know, don’t you? Yoooo know?’ He struggled to make his lips grip the vowels and spit out coherent words.
‘Come on, Logan.’ Maddy tried to make him walk along the timber veranda to return him to the safety of the dining room, but he was reluctant to move. ‘What are you on about, Logan?’
‘Yooo… know. I’ve always luvvvved you.’ His eyes steadily fixed on her face as the rest of his body slid into a drunken swoon as he stumbled. Maddy grabbed him hard and held him upright. She didn’t respond.
‘Of course, you do. Come on, let me get you inside. You need a coffee or some water. You’ll be paying for this tomorrow.’
‘I do… you know. I doooo luvvv you.’ He looked at her again, trying to hold her concerned eyes with his swimming vision. ‘I truly do luvvv you.’ He began again. ‘I mean it.’ He sounded more determined than usual. ‘I do. I have always luvvvvved you.’
Maddy had heard this all before during High School and again at UCLA . For a time she considered him husband material as their brief romance blossomed. Sadly, it was not to be. Their relationship foundered, cannibalized by the vagaries of ignorance and youth. Now in her twenties, she found Logan charming and endearing, but not a sensible choice as her mother took every opportunity to remind her.
CHAPTER 5
Woods For The Trees
After working in the garden for several hours, a heavily pregnant Maddy, five weeks away from delivering their first child, dragged her mud-covered body into a hot shower, and then to bed. That night, sleep enveloped her like a thick dark blanket, smothering her by 8.00pm. Life seemed to be like this. Frenzied and fast-paced with lots going on, where she rushed from one thing to another and then, after a few days, collapsed into a static torpor, barely able to string a sentence together. She slept it off overnight, dragging herself through minimal daylight hours, and spending longer in bed during what she called survival days. In less than thirty-six hours her spirit and body would rejuvenate with energy levels returning to full speed ahead.
That night she dreamed of trying to climb high into a forest of extremely tall Redwoods, their thick trunks gently moving in the breeze as they clung to a cliff top. Unnerved, uneasy as she gripped the branches, the pine needles pricking her fingers and torso. Maddy pressed against the tree trunk to prevent herself from falling over the sheer cliff and into the river gorge three miles below. With her hands aching, she had to flex her fingers, letting go and clutching at the slippery branches, which slid through her fingers over and over. Turning her head, Maddy glanced at the horizon, calculating a way out of this dangerous position. She noticed lots of pieces of paper jammed into the surrounding branches. Terrified, Maddy wanted to grab them, read them and find out what they said, but she feared losing her grasp. A few were fluttering away in the breeze, floating down towards the bottom of the gorge, small white specks sailing through the air, never captured or understood.
As she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wedged in the curved branches and the main trunk of the tree, she realized she was hanging over a sheer cliff edge. She looked down. The smell of the Redwoods penetrated her senses, but the full horror of her predicament struck as she looked far, far below. Fear dominated as she watched the racing river rushing over sharp-edged boulders in its path. The craggy cliffs were desolate, without vegetation, sharp angles of beige rocks jutted out over the massive gorge. A forest lining an enormous canyon seemed to close in, forcing her to panic with sweating palms fighting for survival. Terror engulfed her entire body as she realized her hands, clutching at the rough branches, couldn’t hold her weight any longer. Falling to her death was inevitable. She slipped and fell, screaming towards the rocky outcrops protruding from the tumultuous river below.
She woke with a start. It took a few minutes of slow breathing to calm herself. Only a nightmare, one needing some interpretation over coffee and a chat with Mila. She felt her unborn baby shift around, crammed into its confined space. Her panic must’ve frightened it too. She put both hands on her distended stomach and stroked her own tummy, calming the baby and herself. She listened to Fred’s gentle snoring. He was in a deep sleep and unmoving. She gently pulled back the blankets and stood up, momentarily unsteady on her bare feet, before going to the bathroom and splashing cold water on her face. Her pallid reflection in the mirror appeared drained and expressionless. For the sixth time that night she was in the bathr
oom, relieving herself of two teaspoons of urine each time. God bless Fred. Thankfully, the toilet seat was down.
Back in bed, she rolled onto her side, closed her eyes and wondered about the fluttering pieces of paper in the dream. They were love notes from Logan and it terrified her someone would read them as they flapped like small aimless birds downwards to earth. It must have been some subconscious terror mixed with the fear of falling to her death.
During the early morning hours, she dreamed of dead babies; her own dead baby from years ago. Images and sounds from the abortion trauma haunted her pregnancy. Maddy jolted awake again, reminding herself she deserved this terror. The fear of anything happening to her unborn baby was a thread weaving itself around every waking moment. Fred tried to reassure her. He didn’t understand why she was so fearful. How could he? She had never confessed this dark moment in her past. He hugged her and said their first child will be a precious and remarkable gift.
‘Besides, nearly every woman has babies,’ he said. ‘It’s normal.’
‘I know.’ she smiled at him. ‘I just want it out. I want to see its hands and toes and know it’s alive.’
‘Of course, it will be!’ He laughed. ‘Are all new mothers like this? I have to sleep with both of you, and I can tell you for nothing, that baby is an athlete with the action going on in your tummy.’
Maddy grinned weakly, and he hugged her briefly and left for work. She could never tell him about her past and the lost child. A secret kept so long became harder and harder to confess. She knew neither Fred nor Logan would ever learn about her first baby.
Almost two weeks later Fred and Maddy welcomed their first son, Blake, into the world. Just three weeks after little Blake’s arrival, Mila and Logan produced their first daughter, Sacha. They all basked in the delight of parenthood and celebrated one another’s talent for producing miraculous and perfect offspring.
Just before their newborn babies hit their three-month milestone, Fred and Logan agreed to take their wives out for an evening meal together. Getting ready for a date night turned into a rigmarole.
‘You look stunning,’ Logan said to the two women across the table. Fred smiled in agreement.
‘Hard to believe they’re mothers of young babies,’ Fred chipped in.
Their two wives smiled in unison, almost glowing across at their respective husbands, as the server interrupted with the menus. Maddy thought the room was getting warmer and the prickling heat was burning her armpits.
‘You all right?’ Mila asked her friend with a hand on her shoulder.
Maddy glanced across at the men who seemed locked into another cycling confab, intensely exchanging miles per hour and fitness ratings. She turned to Mila and whispered.
‘Actually, I had a bit of a disaster today and wish I’d listened to your expert advice, Mila.’
Mila’s brow furrowed with some concern. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’
‘No, not really,’ Maddy said, indicating her armpits with her right hand tilting her glass towards her upper arms. ‘A bit of over-kill in the waxing department.’
‘What? Where did you have it done?’ asked Mila, glancing up to make sure the men remained unaware.
‘I ignored your sensible words and did the old DIY and am now without skin on my armpits!’
‘Owwhh,’ Mila responded in her outside voice, immediately attracting the attention of both their husbands.
Fred leaned across the table and said. ‘Hushed tones won’t help Maddy, I had to rescue her from her own personal beauty parlor balls-up.’ He laughed.
‘Fred!’ Maddy said in a harsh whisper. ‘You promised!’
‘But you started it,’ Fred complained. ‘I could tell you were talking about the waxing.’
‘Waxing what?’ Logan queried, now keenly interested.
Maddy rolled her eyes and slumped back in the chair, remembering the afternoon’s events, and wondering how she could convey the story with tact and diplomacy over the dinner table. Both men were leered at their wives.
‘Close your gaping mouths and your dirty minds.’ Maddy shut them up. ‘I was trying out an armpit waxing which went wrong.’
‘Very wrong!’ laughed Fred, with Logan grinning.
That afternoon before the dinner date, Maddy had her hair cut and colored. She felt great, almost back to her usual self, so in a mad rush of over-enthusiastic energy, she waxed her armpits. She always preferred a razor, which had proved itself effective on all the hairy bits she kept under control. The previous week she had felt how smooth and lovely Mila’s legs were after a salon waxing and thought she would experiment with waxing for herself.
Mila protested and advised against the DIY option for the first time. ‘Get an expert to do it. Get your legs and Charlie done at the same time!’ she grinned.
They both giggled over their morning coffee. The word Charlie was something they had invented in high school as a code word for anything associated with their private bits, especially the item Fred and Logan referred to as Poontang. Their coded discussions led to some highly amusing conversations with the oblivious men in the same room.
‘Do you want to swim?’ Mila asked
‘Can’t, sorry.’ Maddy pulled a face. ‘Charlie’s in town.’ Or sometimes detailed reviews of sexual escapades discussed in front of their husbands as they drank beer and talked sport, blissfully unaware.
‘You look like shit!’ Maddy said.
‘Charlie took a beating last night,’ Mila laughed. ‘Logan was really on top form!’ The chortling women rolled their eyes at one another.
During the afternoon before their dinner date, Maddy laid out the melted wax cloth strips and re-read the hair removal instructions. She smirked. How hard can this be, for heaven’s sake? If it worked on her armpits, she would give Charlie a damn good waxing too. That would get Fred going! She grinned, checking the bathroom door-lock was firmly in place, securing her privacy.
She picked up one of the pre-cut strips of fabric and pressed it into the warm wax. Her upper torso already naked, she raised her right arm over her head, facing the mirror and slapped the warm waxed cloth onto her armpit, pressing firmly as the wax fused with the crook of her open underarm. Maddy placed a second piece for good measure. This was way too easy. She couldn’t wait to tell Mila. Pressing two more strips of fabric in the warm pot of wax, Maddy held them under her other arm. The instructions required two minutes waiting time for the wax to cool and harden to ensure maximum grip on unwanted hair.
Maddy, naked from the waist up, stood in the bathroom with both arms held away from her body. She spun around twice, figuring the movement equated to spin drying, helping to harden the wax. Mila had told her the worst part was ripping the waxed fabric off the offending hair, plucking every hair directly from its follicle. But she assured Maddy it was worth it with the hair taking six weeks to grow back.
What Maddy didn’t count on was the hardened wax. Within two minutes it had already impeded all movement in both arms. A rush of adrenaline raced through her body as she realized neither arm could reach across and remove the waxed cloth strips from the other. Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror confirmed how ridiculous she appeared. Maddy tried and failed several times before panicking. How the hell could she escape from this dilemma? Sounds of Fred working in the garage outside wafted up the bathroom. The radio faintly played as he tinkered with the car engine. Maddy could not get dressed. Trapped, like a penguin on an ice flow, with her arms curved awkwardly away from her body, thick wax immobilized her armpits, making her upper torso and hands utterly useless.
Blood flushed into her face at the thought of both men joking at her ridiculous attempt at amateur hair removal. Thank heavens she hadn’t started on Charlie first. There was no way! She had no choice but to call out to Fred. With her arms rigidly curved away from her sides, she moved to the open window. She used her head to push against the glass pane to widen the opening so she could catch Fred’s attention.
‘Fred!’ sh
e called in an anxious voice, only slightly louder than usual. No response. She would never live this down. The mockery would be relentless. She could even see Mila screeching with laughter as they all used exaggerated comments about Maddy needing another damn good waxing.
Taking a deep breath, she shouted as loud as she could. There was nothing else for it. Who cares about the neighbors? After the third try, Fred heard something and walked outside with a wrench and an oil-covered rag in his hands, his head turned, listening intently. She could see him. She called again, and finally, he sauntered over towards the bathroom window.
‘Got a problem?’ he asked. He miraculously recognized the anxiety in her voice.
‘Yes! I’ve been calling and calling you!’
When he opened the bathroom door and saw her half naked with her arms curved out as if ready to throw the first punch, he couldn’t help laughing. He listened to his wife’s dilemma, struggling to repress his chortling. Finally, he awkwardly positioned himself in front of her and followed her instructions, grabbed both cloth strips under her left arm and in one swift motion, ripped them clean off. She screamed as droplets of blood dripped from the torn, follicle pores of her armpit.
‘Holy hell!’ he said, shocked. ‘Shall I remove the other side?’ he asked, looking stunned by the blood.
‘No! Go away!’ She said through gritted teeth. He stepped back into the doorway. ‘I can do the other one myself. Thanks for nothing!’
‘Well, you said pull hard. There’s too much wax on there.’
‘I know!’ she breathed. ‘Just leave me alone.’ So, he did, grateful to escape back to the garage. Fred was secretly amused at his wife’s antics and decided a show and tell, acting out for Mila and Logan would be a riot.
