Hating Valentine's Day

by Allison Rushby - Hating Valentine's Day

  ‘Yep. Anything. Just make it quick. I’m late. Really, really late!’

  He seems to wake up on hearing this. ‘Clothes,’ he repeats, and races inside, returning a minute later jumping into a pair of jeans and holding a cap and a shirt.

  ‘Let’s go!’ I grab his hand again and we run towards the car without looking back.

  Y Y Y Y

  ‘Hey!’ Molly’s eyes are wide as I jump in the car and Drew slides into the back seat. ‘You’re the guy from the garbage wedding, right?’

  Drew’s eyes meet mine in the rear-vision mirror. ‘Er, right,’ he says, holding out his hand and introducing himself to Molly as I start the car and pull us out into the street.

  At the end of the road I pause and turn to Molly, my mind blank. ‘Where are we going again?’

  ‘The Terraces!’ She gives me a look. ‘Are you all right? First you’re late, and then you can’t remember where we’re supposed to be going. You do remember who you’re photographing, don’t you? Their names and everything?’

  ‘Of course,’ I lie, trying to look professional in front of Drew. Damn. What are their names? I hunt through my memory as I drive. It’s not Kirsty and Shaun; I know that much. They’re next in line today. It’s…Oh, come on, Liv…‘Ina and Ben!’ I say triumphantly. ‘That’s their names. Ina and Ben.’

  ‘Well, that’s a start. She’s not usually like this.’ Molly glances at Drew. ‘It must be all the testosterone floating around that’s putting her off.’

  ‘Molly!’ I give her a sideways glare and she grins.

  The three of us chat as we go, every set of lights turning red to spite me, like before. Every so often Molly gives me funny little looks. I know what she’s thinking—Who is this guy and what the hell are you going to do with him today? But the fact is I can’t give her an answer. I don’t know the answer. I’ve got no idea what I’m going to do with Drew today. I know what I’d like to do…

  ‘Liv! In here!’ Molly points to the car park I’m about to drive past and I pull in at the last second.

  ‘Sorry.’ I park the car and pop the boot, bolting out to flick through the couple’s information sheet in case I’ve forgotten anything else about them.

  ‘Liv!’ Molly says, loading herself up with bags. ‘We’ve got to go!’ She leans her head in towards mine, using the boot as cover from Drew. ‘What are you going to do with him?’

  I shrug and keep reading. ‘I’ll think of something.’ Ah, that’s it. Wedding on terrace. Buffet breakfast. Large group photo with all the guests. Friends from high school. Molly tugs on my sleeve. ‘OK!’ I shove the papers in the camera bag she’s holding out at me and take it from her. Drew’s out of the car now and standing beside me. ‘All ready?’ I ask him, looking down to see he’s missed a button on the shirt he’s pulled on. Impulsively I reach over and do it up, only realising what I’m doing at the last second. Slowly, I pull my hands away and look up. ‘Ah, um, sorry.’

  There’s that twinkle in his eye again. ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘Feel like some breakfast?’

  Drew nods. ‘Sure.’

  I turn to Molly. ‘I’ve got an idea. Which room are they in?’

  ‘Um, the bridesmaids are in 508 and the bride’s in 509. They’ve decamped into 509 now, so they’re all together.’

  Perfect. Just like I thought.

  The three of us head for the lifts and then, with a whirr, we’re on floor five. I check the time. Seven-thirty-seven and we’re here, with all limbs intact. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  We hotfoot it down the carpeted corridor and I knock on door 509 and wait. Just as it begins to open I turn to Molly and grab her.

  ‘Ina,’ she says, pre-empting my question. ‘Man, are you all right?’

  I nod and glance over at Drew. ‘Can you wait here?’ I beg, and he nods just as the door opens and I switch into ‘I’m a wedding photographer and I can deal with anything’ mode. My infra-red photographer eyes locate the bride on the balcony, having her make-up done, her hair still in rollers.

  Phew. Everything’s going to be OK.

  I move through the room, helloing the bridesmaids and the hairdressers and various other people that have been packed in the room as I head for the balcony and prepare myself to get down to business.

  ‘Ina!’ I say. The make-up artist stops make-upping. Ina looks up at me.

  And my heart sinks as I realise Ina is not a happy bride.

  ‘Don’t you have any waterproof mascara?’ I say to the make-up artist when I see the damage.

  ‘It is waterproof mascara. But you have to let it set some time.’ She gives me a ‘this one’s a mess’ look over Ina’s head.

  Oh, God. ‘One second.’ I hold up a finger. I move a step inside and beckon a bridesmaid, who trots over willingly. ‘Have you moved everything out of 508?’ I ask her.

  She nods. ‘We don’t have to be out till one, but we won’t be around after the ceremony, so everything’s in here.’

  ‘Great.’ I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Do you mind if I have the key? I might just store a few pieces of my…um…equipment in there.’ I can barely look at the girl. This is sooooo not my usual professional self. But needs must, and my ‘equipment’ is waiting in the hall.

  ‘Sure.’ She runs over and grabs the swipe card off the dresser.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ I tell her, already most of the way to the door.

  Molly gives me a ‘are you ever going to tell me what’s happening here?’ shake of the head as I pass.

  Drew’s waiting patiently outside. His eyebrows raise as I open and close the door swiftly behind me, but I don’t have time to say anything before he’s pushed me back up against it and is kissing me. All I can think as our mouths meet is why did I let myself wait so long for this? Not that I can think of much. In fact, my knees actually start to weaken as his body moves in against mine—a very gentlemanly action, as I think otherwise I might slide to the floor.

  When my brain kicks back in, and reminds me of the time, I hold up the swipe card between us. ‘I got us a room,’ I say, putting on my best husky voice.

  Drew laughs. ‘How forward of you. I’ll have you know I’m not that kind of guy.’ He pauses. ‘No, come to think of it, I am. Exactly that kind of guy.’

  I move to the door next to us and swipe away, opening it up after the little green light flashes. ‘How about you order us some breakfast and I’ll be back down from the ceremony as fast as I can?’

  We only step inside the room for a minute and a half, but when I return to the corridor I find I have to twist my skirt a full ninety degrees to straighten it out again.

  Let’s just say I’m looking forward to that breakfast.

  But first back to the wedding. Where, over the next half an hour, things go from bad to worse.

  I photograph the bridesmaids having their hair and make-up done…and whispering about Ina.

  I photograph the bridesmaids doing each other’s zippers up and checking their lipstick…and comforting Ina.

  I photograph the bridesmaids hanging out on the bed together, completely ready…and waiting for Ina.

  We’re all waiting for Ina now. Ina, the bride, who has locked herself in the bathroom.

  With ten minutes to go before Ina’s father is due to show up and escort her to the ceremony, Molly grabs me and steers me out onto the balcony, where no one else can hear us. ‘She’s really freaking out,’ she says.

  ‘Yes, I had noticed that, thanks.’ My eyes swivel to the bathroom door. Everyone is looking at us.

  ‘Can’t you do something?’ Molly says. ‘You must’ve had ones like this before.’

  I nod. I have. And I think it’s time for The Talk. ‘OK,’ I say to Molly. ‘She doesn’t look like she’s coming out of there under her own steam, so it’s officially time. I’m going in.’

  ‘In the bathroom? But she’s not letting anyone in,’ Molly says as I go back into the room and cross it, everyone’s gaze following me.

  I knock o
n the bathroom door. ‘Ina? It’s Liv. Can you let me in?’

  ‘No. I don’t want any pictures.’

  ‘I won’t bring the camera. I promise. I just want to talk to you for a moment.’ To tell the truth, I hadn’t even thought about taking the camera in. This isn’t exactly what you’d call a Kodak moment.

  There’s a click as the door unlocks. I motion to Molly, and then at the bed. ‘The dress,’ I mouth at her. Molly grabs it and passes it to me, holding out the hanger. I take it from her, open the door, and let myself into the bathroom.

  Inside, Ina looks remarkably composed for someone who’s locked herself in the bathroom and won’t come out fifteen minutes before her wedding ceremony.

  I check out her face in the mirror’s reflection. The hair’s done. Great. And at least she’s stopped crying. That solves the make-up problem. And what about…? Oh, good. I spot that she’s wearing her fancy ‘I’m the bride, so suddenly organ-displacing corsets are back in’ underwear beneath the white cotton dressing gown.

  I pause, watching her, thinking about The Talk. When I give it, I’ve usually had quite a bit of contact with the clients as a couple. I’ve seen how they work together and can decide whether or not I want to convince the bride to hoof it up the aisle because I’ve been able to gauge just how serious they are—whether it’s more about the marriage than about the wedding. But Ina and Ben are a different case. Like I said, I’ve only met them once. I start to flounder.

  But then I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye.

  Something pink.

  I look up, and lying on the towel rack above the shower is a hazy image—Tony. ‘Love your work, babe,’ he whispers, gives me a wink and the thumbs-up, then slowly disappears, Cheshire-cat-style, until all that’s left to be seen is a white pink-edged carnation.

  Right. OK.

  Still, at least I know what I have to do now. ‘Ina,’ I say forcefully, and she turns away from the mirror and looks at me. ‘Take a seat.’ I push down the toilet lid. She sits down. Time to get down to basics. ‘Ina, do you love him?’ I ask her, and she nods, looking at the floor. ‘Truly?’

  This time, she looks me straight in the eye. ‘Truly. I think…I think I’m just nervous.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ I nod. ‘That’s normal. But he’s waiting for you, Ina. Ben’s up there right now.’ I think about Drew for a second, waiting for me in the next room.

  Ina lifts her head and looks at the ceiling, as if somehow she’ll be able to see him on the terrace.

  ‘He’s waiting for you to walk down the aisle. He can’t wait to see you. I’m sure of it.’

  Ina nods.

  OK. This is it. Time for my trump card. ‘He’s waiting for you to walk down the aisle. Waiting to see you looking beautiful in your—’ I take a quick glance at the dress, which is taking up half the bathroom ‘—stunning ivory silk gown. Waiting to marry you. You, Ina. He must really love you.’

  Click.

  I don’t know why The Talk, in all its sappy glory, gets them, but it works every time.

  She stands up. ‘He’s up there right now, isn’t he?’

  I nod.

  ‘Waiting for me…’ The thought sinks in. ‘To marry me.’

  ‘And I bet you can’t wait either.’

  She nods. ‘I can’t!’

  ‘So—’ I grab the dress now and unzip the back of it ‘—how about you frock up, and we’ll add a touch more lipstick, and then your dad should be here.’

  She nods, slips her robe off, and puts the dress on. I zip her up at the back, then I hunt around in the make-up bags on the counter until I find a pinkish lipstick. It’s not the one the make-up artist used, but, really, is that the most important thing here? She applies, blots, and applies again. In the meantime I find some whitening eyedrops, and when she’s done lipsticking squeeze a few into each of her eyes.

  ‘Now look.’ I take her arm and step back, making her step back with me. We look in the mirror together.

  She looks gorgeous. Just like all my other brides.

  And then Ina smiles.

  ‘Don’t move a muscle,’ I say, and open the door again. Molly’s right outside. I nod at her. ‘It’s fine. Dad here?’ She goes over and grabs him. ‘Hi—Liv Hetherington, Ina’s photographer,’ I say, holding out my hand. He shakes it and points inside the bathroom, a worried look on his face. ‘Everything’s fine. Just fine,’ I reassure him. ‘Now, how about you come in here with Ina? I’ve just got to race upstairs and take a few photos of the groom. Let’s say you follow me in ten minutes exactly?’

  He looks at his watch.

  ‘Good.’ I let him in the bathroom and edge myself out, not wanting anyone else to think they can go in. ‘I’ll see you up there, Ina,’ I call out as I close the door behind me.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Molly says, holding the front door of the room open.

  Ina sorted, I race out through the open door, dragging Molly with me. We pass rooms 508, 507 and 506 before I just can’t help myself and turn back, leaving poor Molly to wait for the lift as I knock urgently on 508. When Drew appears I grab him and kiss him before he has a chance to get a word out. ‘I’ll be right back!’ I say over my shoulder as I leave.

  As the lift doors close, Molly looks at me in disbelief. ‘I’d tell you guys to get a room, but I guess you already did.’

  Y Y Y Y

  The ceremony flows in the kind of way I wish all ceremonies flowed. And I swing into doing what I do best. I take pictures of the guests, of the family, of the groom and groomsmen. Photos of everything. Of anything. Whatever looks good. Whatever happens.

  Molly follows me around, passing me things I need, swapping film, cameras and pointing out anything I might have missed.

  When I’m finished, we stand halfway down the aisle as inconspicuously as you can stand halfway down the aisle with a ton of photographic equipment at a wedding ceremony. We wait for Ina.

  And then she’s there.

  She and her father wait, in hiding, around a corner, while someone informs the string quartet that it’s time.

  ‘Well, she didn’t call it off,’ Molly whispers to me. She looks around. ‘Think they’ve got enough gold cherubs?’

  I glance around me now. She’s right. There are a lot of gold cherubs. I shrug. It doesn’t matter. ‘Whatever makes them happy,’ I whisper back at Molly.

  She gives me another strange look. ‘What is wrong with you today?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you’re not exactly your usual self. You don’t even seem particularly cut up that it’s Valentine’s Day.’

  I cough. ‘Well, it’s just that…I may have changed my views on some things a little. Including Valentine’s Day.’

  Molly pauses. ‘You? You’re telling me you, of all people, have changed your views on Valentine’s Day? You? The defender of the single person, the—?’

  ‘Shhh.’ I put one finger up as people start turning their heads to look at us. She’s getting a little loud.

  ‘Sorry. It’s just that—well, you…’

  ‘I know. I know. Do you have to harp on about it?’ I turn back and check on Ina. They should start at any moment now. When I finally get a clear glimpse of her expression I see that she looks happy. Calm. As if the bathroom incident never happened. And maybe it didn’t. If I don’t tell anyone what went on in there, maybe it’s as if it never happened at all. I lean over to Molly, who’s been silent since learning I’m no longer hating Valentine’s Day. She’s probably in shock. ‘Want to learn something?’ I whisper.

  ‘What?’ she whispers back.

  ‘You know how you can tell if they’re going to make it or not?’

  ‘The couple?’

  I nod.

  ‘How?’

  ‘By the look on her face when she turns down the aisle and sees him for the first time.’

  Molly raises her eyebrows. I can tell she doesn’t really believe me. ‘How can you possibly—?’ she starts, but then stops mid-sent
ence as the string quartet start up and Ina’s father moves her forward, pausing at the top of the aisle. Because in that moment we both see it.

  The real thing.

  ‘I can probably take over from here.’ Molly takes the camera from my hand as a waiter passes by, beginning to circle with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

  ‘Oh!’ I emerge from my photographic daze.

  ‘That is unless, of course, you’d rather stay here and help me pack up? I’d say we’ve got about an hour before we—’

  But I’m already gone. And as the door to room 508 opens to let me inside, I’m almost shocked to find myself smiling that same smile that I saw upstairs only minutes ago. That smile that I’m always looking to photograph—not the one that’s enhanced by teeth-whitening and hundred-dollar bottles of foundation, but the one that lifts up and is expelled involuntarily from right down inside, from some hidden organ they haven’t discovered yet.

  ‘You’re just in time,’ Drew says. ‘I ordered you up some pancakes.’

  I want to tell him that when I said breakfast it wasn’t pancakes I was hungry for. But I can’t. Because—well, this is Valentine’s Day, and I’m a wedding photographer. Which means the clock’s ticking.

  And with the fifty-six and a half minutes I have left, I can think of much, much better things to do…

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