The Accidental Honeymoon

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘Mum, seriously?’ I ask, unimpressed.

  ‘Come on, Gigi, he’s going to see them sooner or later,’ she reasons.

  ‘Your prom dress was interesting,’ Jack muses, a huge grin plastered across his face. ‘Very pink.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I reply, even though I know his comment wasn’t sincere. ‘It was the height of fashion back then.’

  ‘Your mom was just telling me about your date,’ Jack adds, looking at my mum expectantly.

  ‘Yes, so, this is Howard. He and Georgie were the most popular couple in their school,’ my mum tells him. ‘Lovely boy, lived just next door. They spent so much time in his tree house together.’

  ‘How cute,’ Jack replies. ‘What a cute couple you made,’ he adds to me.

  I could punch him in the face right now, he’s making me so mad. Him getting to make fun of me was not part of the deal.

  ‘Are you going to meet up with any of the old crowd while you’re in town?’ my mum asks.

  ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I’m only here for the wedding. I’m sure I’ll see a few of them there, but I wasn’t going to let anyone know I was here.’

  ‘I already let Kaz and Sue know,’ my mum informs me. ‘Kaz walled me and said you’ve to go for a catch-up with them tomorrow night.’

  ‘She walled you?’

  ‘Yes, on the Facebook.’

  Wow, good news travels fast when your mum has a Facebook page. I often wonder who helped my technophobic mother create a Facebook profile. This is a woman who still tries to answer the Sky remote when the phone rings.

  I yawn theatrically.

  ‘I’m tired, I might go to bed.’

  ‘OK, love. Well, we’ve got to be up early for brunch with the family.’

  ‘Awesome,’ I reply sarcastically.

  ‘Goodnight, love. Say goodnight, Paul.’

  ‘Goodnight, Paul,’ my dad says obediently with a wave of the remote control.

  ‘Jack, you said you were tired, too, right? You coming?’ I ask, trying to convey with my eyes that I expect him to say yes.

  ‘I’m not so…’ He realises halfway through his sentence. ‘Yeah, I’m not so awake either.’

  I watch as he visibly winces at his poor choice of words.

  ‘Ah, rushing off to bed,’ my mum says with a knowing eyebrow wiggle. ‘If you’re this crazed now, just imagine when you’re newlyweds.’

  ‘Yeah, imagine that, Georgie.’ Jack chuckles as we head for the door.

  I should probably find my mother’s comment funny, too, given that A: we are newlyweds, and B: sex couldn’t be further from our minds. But I can’t laugh. I’ve spent so long imagining what it would feel like to be married, and I can’t believe this is it. I know that, once we get our annulment, I can get married again in the future, to someone I actually care about, but I always hoped I’d marry once, and for life. Now I know that’s never going to happen, and it’s not a laughing matter.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘I can’t believe your high-school boyfriend was called Howard,’ Jack chuckles the second my bedroom door is closed.

  ‘Why?’ I ask, angrily.

  ‘What sort of name is that? That’s such an old man’s name. You ever met a young, sexy Howard?’

  ‘Yes, my ex,’ I reply, slipping my nightdress on over my actual dress.

  ‘That must be why you spent so much time in his tree house with him,’ Jack says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, plonking himself down on the bed. He catches sight of what I’m doing, and looks so confused that his expression changes to one I haven’t yet seen. ‘Georgie, what the fuck are you doing?’

  ‘Getting changed,’ I reply. ‘This is how girls get changed. We learn in the changing rooms at school, when we’re forced to do PE against our will. It’s an important life skill.’

  Jack scratches his head.

  ‘So, you put one thing on top of the other, and then?’

  ‘And then take the bottom layer off, enabling yourself to get changed without getting undressed.’

  ‘I don’t know if I feel impressed or sorry for you,’ he replies, unbuttoning his shirt.

  ‘It’s impressive,’ I tell him, removing my dress from under my nightdress, ready for bed without showing Jack any more flesh than he’s already seen.

  ‘Seems kind of like you’re hung up on your body to me,’ he replies. ‘But that dress didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination. You look great.’

  As Jack finally undoes the last button of his shirt and slips it off, I can’t help but stare at his body for a second. He definitely wasn’t lying when he said he was only fourteen per cent body fat. He looks like something from the cover of Men’s Health and I look like the kind of slightly chubby girl a girl’s mag would wrongly put on their cover to celebrate curves. I might not be fat, but I’m squishier than Jack.

  ‘You’re not my husband,’ I remind him.

  ‘I am,’ he laughs, unbuttoning his trousers.

  ‘Well, yeah, you are,’ I reply as I scrub off my make-up with a face wipe. ‘But you’re not supposed to be. So why would I want to take my clothes off in front of you? We’re not all exhibitionists.’

  ‘Even I have my limits,’ he replies. ‘Which is why we may have a problem. Did you buy me underwear?’

  ‘Sorry, it never occurred to me,’ I tell him honestly. ‘I guess, just keep the ones you have on for now, and we’ll go buy some tomorrow.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jack glances down inside his chinos. ‘I don’t have any on.’

  ‘You don’t have underwear on?’ I echo in disbelief. ‘You remembered to leave the house with a magic trick, but not underwear?’

  ‘The trick rose was already in my wallet, and I got dressed in a hurry, remember.’

  ‘So sleep in your trackies.’

  ‘You threw them away,’ he reminds me.

  Shit, I did. After Jack got changed, we only had enough room in my bags to pack his new stuff. I promised to replace his tracksuit, but figured he’d have no need for one while he was here. Of course, I expected him to have underwear on.

  I root around in my case, only to realise that when I bought myself new clothes for the trip, I didn’t buy anything that wasn’t a dress or a skirt.

  ‘Sleep in those?’ I suggest.

  ‘You’re joking? They’re squashing my junk as it is.’

  I exhale deeply as I try and think of a solution.

  I grab my underwear from my case and dump it down on the bed.

  ‘Here, help yourself,’ I tell him. ‘I can burn them afterwards.’

  Jack handles a few pairs, laughing as he does so.

  ‘Have you seen my glutes?’ he asks. ‘And even if I could fit into these… do you have any that don’t go up your ass?’

  I bite my lip, unwilling to argue, and with no other options jumping out at me other than Jack sleeping naked, I grab a short black mini skirt from my case.

  ‘Here.’ I toss it at him. ‘This is stretchy, so it will fit and stay in place.’

  ‘You want me to wear a skirt?’ Jack asks in disbelief.

  ‘I want you to sleep in a different room entirely,’ I remind him. ‘But given that we’re stuck together, yes, I want you to wear the skirt rather than be naked.’

  ‘You could just not look,’ he suggests. ‘Or is the problem that you won’t be able to stop yourself looking?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I ask.

  ‘My eyes are up here, Georgie,’ he says, raising his fingers from his torso to his face. Shit, was I staring?

  ‘Look, I’m going to brush my teeth. Just figure it out before I get back.’

  After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I linger in the bathroom for a few minutes longer than I need to, putting off going back into the bedroom to face my pants-less husband.

  ‘All sorted,’ he replies. ‘No only did I man up and put the skirt on, but I used all your weird stuffed animals to make a barrier down the centre of the bed.’

  ‘Erm, thank you,’ I
reply.

  ‘Well, marriage is all about compromise,’ he reminds me. ‘Plus, I was worried about you trying to touch my junk in the night.’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ I reply, placing my phone on charge before climbing into bed.

  ‘I know,’ he replies. ‘A man should be able to sleep unmolested.’

  ‘Not that, you dick. I can’t believe how much effort you’re putting into winding me up. It’s like we’re teenagers and you’ve got a crush on me.’

  I flick the light out and close my eyes tightly, hoping I’ll fall asleep as soon as possible.

  ‘Is that how Howard bagged you?’ he asks after a few seconds, unwilling to let me off easy.

  ‘Leave it,’ I reply.

  ‘Do English guys treat chicks mean so they can score in a tree house?’

  ‘Jack, I’m serious, leave it.’

  ‘Geez, you still got a splinter in your butt or something?’ he laughs.

  ‘Jack,’ I snap, a little too loudly. ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he whispers. ‘Just a joke. Night.’

  ‘Night,’ I reply bluntly.

  A few more seconds of silence follow, before he speaks again.

  ‘Hey, princess,’ he whispers. ‘Can you move up? I don’t have much room over here.’

  Fuck my life, this is going to be a long, painful trip. And it’s not exactly like life is going to get much easier after, is it?

  Chapter Thirteen

  As I feel myself waking up, the first thing I notice is a strong smell of onion. Then, as I open my eyes, I notice an iPhone looking down at me.

  ‘Olly, what the fuck are you doing?’ I whisper, suddenly remembering where I am, and that Jack is asleep next to me.

  ‘I thought I’d put this onion in your bed for a prank,’ Olly explains, grinning widely. ‘Then I walked in on this, and I thought I’d capture the moment. There’s already plenty of things in the bed with you.’

  That’s when I remember the conga line of stuffed animals between us.

  ‘It was cold,’ I whisper. ‘And are we not a bit old for pranks now?’

  ‘In a June heat wave?’ he replies.

  ‘No, I mean we were too warm next to each other, so it was cooler. Look, just get out.’

  Olly finally lowers his phone and puts it back in his pocket, but remains standing over my bed as he menacingly tosses the onion between his hands.

  ‘Get out before my fiancé wakes up,’ I whisper again.

  ‘Fair point, he legit looks like he could crush me,’ he replies. ‘Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room first?’ he asks, nodding towards Jack. I look over at him and thankfully he’s still fast asleep, but he’s entirely naked except for his mini skirt, which has rolled up around his torso. Not only is he naked, but he’s completely uncovered because I was obviously hogging the duvet last night.

  ‘It’s not what it looks like,’ I insist.

  ‘I have no idea what the fuck it looks like.’ Olly laughs quietly. ‘But you’re right, I should leave before your gender-fluid fiancé knocks me out with his monster dick.’

  I’m trying not to pay attention to what Jack has going on under his skirt because it’s none of my business. I gently cover him with the duvet before giving my older brother the coldest death-stare until he makes a move.

  ‘I’m going, I’m going,’ he whispers. As he reaches my bedroom door, he places the onion down on my chest of drawers. ‘Mum says be ready in five.’

  ‘Five? Five minutes?’ I shriek as quietly as possible.

  ‘Yep,’ he replies. ‘You might wanna brush your wig before we head out.’

  As Olly closes my bedroom door behind him, Jack wakes up, unaware we just had company.

  ‘Good morning, wifey,’ he jokes, smiling widely.

  ‘Sleep well?’ I ask, a reflex of my good manners.

  ‘Surprisingly well considering I was wearing a skirt,’ he laughs, reaching under the covers to touch it. I see the look on his face change as he realises it must have moved while he slept. ‘Shit, don’t look,’ he says as he adjusts himself. ‘Remind me to buy PJs today.’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ I insist quickly. ‘So, my mum just called from behind the door. She says we need to be ready in five minutes.’

  ‘Shit, sorry, I didn’t hear. Well, I can be ready in five. Give me another boating outfit, I’ll brush my teeth and I’ll be ready to go. I’m going to do better today, I promise.’

  ‘OK. Well, I’ll get dressed and stuff.’

  ‘Might wanna brush your hair,’ he says as he gets out of bed, careful not to disturb his skirt again.

  ‘Cheers,’ I reply, placing my hands on my hair to feel the damage. It’s definitely going to need a good brushing before I can go anywhere.

  ‘Before I go,’ Jack starts, ‘why do you have an onion in your bedroom?’

  ‘Parker family tradition,’ I insist with a shrug of my shoulders.

  ‘OK,’ he replies. ‘I’ll be ready in five. What’s the plan for today?’

  ‘Today you get to meet my cousin,’ I tell him.

  ‘Awesome,’ he replies, dashing off to the bathroom.

  ‘Hmm,’ I say to myself – he’s clearly never met my cousin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Now that we’re in the centre of Blackpool on a hot sunny day, Jack doesn’t seem to be so turned off by the place. Sure, it’s not Vegas, but it’s nice.

  We’re heading to a place called Caffè Café for brunch with the wedding party. I’m not sure if it’s new, but it wasn’t here the last time I visited home. It’s strange, living so far away. Every time I come back, something is completely different.

  ‘Everyone else is already seated,’ my mum stresses as we walk through the door. This is a dig at me, because I neglected to get ready in five minutes. What kind of female can get ready in five minutes, seriously? My mum would probably argue that she could, but she probably got up at 6 a.m. to start working on her hair.

  ‘Do you have a reservation?’ a man, in what I’m convinced is a faux Italian accent, asks.

  ‘Everyone else is already here,’ my mum tells him. ‘My daughter made us late.’

  I feel Jack squeeze my hand, a subtle, comforting gesture that feels wasted on our audience because they’ll never know he did it.

  ‘Can we sit down already?’ Sara whinges, her patience wearing thin.

  ‘This way please,’ the waiter instructs, leading us to the table where everyone is sitting

  We all take our seats, apart from my mum, who works her way around the table, kissing everyone on the cheek.

  ‘No best man today?’ she asks.

  ‘Not today,’ Dougie replies. ‘He wanted to be here, but his dad has a hospital appointment. Broke his leg,’ Dougie adds for the benefit of those who don’t know.

  Dougie is the groom. His parents, who are sitting to his left, opened a car wash when he was younger – now they’ve got ‘Soap Springs Eternal’ car washes all over the country. After his parents retired Dougie started running the business, and he’s got that annoying air of self-importance about him that businessmen often have. He’s always reminding people that, in his case, ‘time is money’ and, since he took over, I haven’t seen him wearing anything but a suit. He’s got a mess of blond curls on top of his head, and eyes so blue they’re a little bit scary. He likes to ask people ‘meaningful’ questions before staring into their eyes as he waits for an answer – something he says he does to potential employees, as though having a good answer to the question ‘If the French were the tallest people in the world, how would you prove it?’ might suggest whether or not someone was capable of washing a car.

  ‘How sweet,’ my mum says, finally sitting down.

  ‘Hi, everyone,’ I say. ‘This is Jack.’

  ‘Hey,’ Jack chimes in dutifully.

  ‘I thought his name was John,’ my Auntie Diana pipes up.

  She’s sitting there, between my Uncle Barry and my cousin Felicity – the one getting married.<
br />
  ‘He prefers to be called Jack,’ I reply, hopefully for the last time.

  ‘So you’re the pianist,’ Felicity says, looking him up and down. ‘You look more like a rugby player.’

  ‘Calm down, Fliss,’ Dougie laughs, sounding just a little bit threatened.

  ‘Sorry, but it’s true,’ she laughs, flicking her napkin at him whimsically. ‘Do you ever break the piano?’

  I can’t help but laugh at my cousin. She’s living proof that money can’t buy class, but I wouldn’t ever want her to.

  That’s the thing about Dougie’s family, they’re very new-money – and now, so is my cousin. They care so much about what they have – well, more importantly, other people’s perception of what they have. They wear expensive watches, carry designer bags and all drive around in Range Rovers. Dougie’s dad has a cherry-red Ferrari for the weekends, which I’m very surprised he hasn’t mentioned yet – in the ten minutes we’ve been here.

  ‘How are you finding England?’ my Auntie Di asks Jack, as though she were the Queen addressing a foreign ambassador.

  ‘I’m surprised by how warm it is,’ he replies.

  ‘Scorching,’ Dougie’s dad agrees. ‘Wanted to drive here in the ‘Rari, but we gave the kids a lift.’

  First mention of the Ferrari – check.

  Feeling the warmth, I slip my pink blazer off to reveal my strappy, black-lace sundress.

  ‘Ooh, look, your jacket and Felicity’s jacket are the same,’ my mum points out.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I reply.

  ‘Ah, but is Georgina’s Stella McCartney?’ my auntie asks. ‘Because Felicity’s is Stella.’

  Everyone looks at me, waiting for an answer.

  What it occurs to me to say is: ‘Sadly, my jacket isn’t Stella – should I kill myself right here and now, or wait until I get home and save myself any further indignity?’ But I don’t.

  ‘It isn’t,’ I reply.

  ‘You’d never know,’ Fliss says politely.

  I glance around the table at the pitying glances, because poor Georgie isn’t doing as well as her cousin. Olly is enjoying my embarrassment, but that’s Olly. I think, when Jacob was born, he was happy to have a brother he could finally play rough with. When Jacob didn’t turn out that way, Olly decided I was the brother he never had, which is why he makes fun of me, pranks me and generally tortures me.