Page 50 of Husband to Go
“Where’s Jane? Where’s that goddamn sister of mine?” The woman’s literally screaming. At whom, I don’t know. Everyone in the room either runs out or refuses to make eye contact. I guess it’s my responsibility to defuse this situation.
“She just left to go looking for the florist,” I inform my red-faced bride. It’s partly from the exertion, but it’s also partly from the fact that Veronica’s got way too much make-up on right now. She’s taken her usual style and increased it one hundred-fold. Unfortunately, it did not turn out well. Her makeup is clearly caked on. There’s so much of it that it gathers in the creases around her mouth, and it’s hot today, so that can’t be comfortable. I wouldn’t be surprised if her face melts off by the end of the day.
Plus, she looks terrible. Normally, Veronica is well dressed but today of all days, she’s gone berserk. Her dress is much too small for her. It’s skintight and squeezing her like she’s some kind of lumpy sausage, the seams bursting like an old-fashioned corset.
Maybe that’s why she’s being such a bridezilla. Pure discomfort, given that her innards are being squeezed through her throat.
“Forget the florist! Fuck the florist! My hair isn’t done, my makeup needs more work, and I don’t have any shoes!” she screams.
I try not to show my disgust. This woman is in her forties and is having the meltdown of a two-year old. In fact, a two-year old would have more decorum than her, come to think of it. I pin her with a stare.
“Veronica what do you want me to do?”
Her eyes are wild, and the whites show.
“I want you to fix this! Today is my day, and I refuse to have it ruined because everyone around me is incompetent!”
She stomps away, and I guess I’m expected to do something, although what is unclear. Maybe I’ll try to find Jane again. Maybe she knows where Kylie is, and we can give this another go.
I stride through every room of this ridiculously huge venue we rented. Everywhere I look, neither Kylie nor Jane is to be found. What Idofind is a whole lot of people scrambling to please Veronica. The florist is trembling with fear as she fusses with the table arrangements. The caterer looks like he’s about to quit and is completely red-faced and sweaty.
Veronica has struck fear into everyone’s heart today. Is that something to be proud of? I think not.
Finally, I find Jane is a small room that’s out of the way. She’s pacing back and forth, mumbling to herself.
“Jane?” She jumps when I say her name.
“Oh my goodness, Tanner. You scared me. I thought you were my sister for a second.”
“No, Veronica is downstairs yelling at other people,” I reply flatly. At least I assume she is.
Jane shakes her head.
“Shit, Tanner. This is too much. I just got a text from one of the bridesmaids saying that Veronica wants her shoes back. The ones she threw out the window.”
I take a deep breath.
“I can help you find them.”
But Jane’s not having it.
“You don’t understand. She threw them out of a moving car window. On a highway. Those things are long by now, and I have no idea what we’re going to do about shoes now.”
Jesus Christ. What madness is this?
“We can buy her new ones. Just take my credit card.”
Veronica’s sister shakes her head.
“You still don’t understand. She wants thoseexactshoes. They’re custom made or something, so she’ll know if we get her some off-the-rack thing. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and frankly, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. She’s my sister, but she’s clearly a monster too. One with a ferocious appetite.”
Jane is back in her own world, clearly having a mental breakdown. She keeps mumbling, ‘I can’t do this,’ to herself over and over again.
I swipe a hand over my eyes as fatigue weighs me down. This is what Veronica does to her own family, and I’m about tomarryher. I’m about to voluntarily enter myself into her shitshow. But these are my choices, and I need to take control of the day. I straighten my shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it, Jane.”
The woman stops pacing and looks at me suspiciously.