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I pull the card out of my pocket. In fancy lettering, it dictates the union of Lauren and some other guy. I put it back, sighing and composing myself.
From the corner of the ballroom in a rather dark corner I managed to find, I’ve glued myself to the walls, attached to a flask. It really helps, especially with large crowds. People flitter between round tables, all surrounding the main wooden dance floor. A long table for the wedding party sits at the back of it.
Lauren and him finish their first dance. She’s gorgeous. She wears a long, sleeveless white dress that sparkles as she moves. Her eyes seem to as well. I do my best to take my eyes off her.
Hannah comes over to me. She’s the maid of honour, and hence wears a long, sleek lavender dress. I wonder how comfortable she feels in it. Her hair is in an eloquent ponytail, some of it plaited together. She looks a like a Viking shield maiden with the way she walks.
“Ruck,” she greets me.
“Hannah,” I say.
She grabs my arm and walks over to the dance floor. Before I can open my mouth, she shuts me up with a stern stare. “Come on, wallflower,” she says. We reach the dance floor, and she takes my hand and shoulder. I put my hand on other waist and reluctantly start dancing with her. Lauren smiles at me from the other side of the dance floor, ecstatic to see me moving. “Don’t worry, I was paid to do this,” Hannah says sarcastically.
“Fantastic,” I say sourly. How do I get out of here? I didn’t talk to Hannah in high school or afterwards—
She steps on my foot, and I realise she’s a bit tipsier than I thought. “So what made you turn down being best man? Was it the speech?” Hannah says.
I don’t know how to answer. “Yeah,” I decide to say.
“Come on,” she says.
I stutter over my words. “I just… don’t think I would’ve done a good job.”
“Why?”
I don’t answer. She can see the uncomfortable expression on my face I keep trying to hide. She looks elsewhere, before letting go of one hand to spin around. “How have maid of honour duties been?” I try to make conversation.
“Feels like I’m cosplaying, but I’m okay doing it for one night,” she says.
“One night. Plus, the bachelorette parties, the rehearsal dinner, the engagement party—”
“Okay, okay, a few nights, jeez,”
“How has she been?” I nod over to Lauren.
“Ask her yourself,”
“I’m asking you,”
Hannah hesitates, looking at me. In her heels, she’s the same height I am. She really is a tall woman. “Lauren’s been Lauren. Every girl plans out her wedding day decades in advance, and she is no different. The napkins, the menu, the colours, they were all pre-ordained in her scrapbook she’s had since she was ten,”
“So she’s been neurotic?”
“She’s a woman who knows what she wants,” Hannah says defensively. I spin her around unexpectedly. “You’re a bastard,” she says, out of breath.
“You invited me up here,” I say.
“You looked lonely,”
I chuckle. “I was hoping to be a bit subtler,”
“When the bride adores you as much as she does, I don’t think it’s possible,”
“She adores me, does she?” I smile.
“You have a long history, and yet you’re still there for her when she needs it most,” she says. “In my experience it’s the ones that stick around that let you know who truly loves you for you,”
“And that’s us, isn’t it?” I say.
“That’s us,” she says. “No disrespect to Benny, but I did want you to be the best man,”
“Benny is Daniel’s best friend, it makes more sense,”
“If you say so,” The disco ball comes down, and the room fills with spots of light. Hannah ushers me to hold both her hands and spin around. After a devastating array of improvised stumbles, we come back together in a normal position again. “Calm down,” Hannah says, looking at my widened eyes.
“I’m not made for this, Hannah,” I say.
“Neither am I,” she says, not hearing me.
“I didn’t think it would be appropriate—”
“What?!” she shouts.
I say a bit louder, “I didn’t think it would be appropriate to be best man,”
She stops dancing, slowing down to stare up at me, her eyebrows furrowed.
“I couldn’t do it, I um… I think I’m still,” I say, my eyes wandering back to the woman in the white dress. I hear a gag and look back to Hannah.
“I have to…” she mumbles. I immediately help her stand to take her quickly to the bathroom. We exit the main ballroom, taking a left down a hallway towards the bathroom doors. She pushes me away from entering the women’s, and I awkwardly stand outside. I hear her inside throwing up.
“Are you okay?!” I shout.
More throwing up. I look around and enter the bathroom after her. She’s sat on the floor in a cubicle, panting.
“Are you okay?” I repeat.
She gives me a snarled expression.
“Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?” I take off my jacket.
“Can I use your flask?” she says.
“No! You need water—”
“It’s not performative? You’ve got booze in there?”
“Y—Yeah,” I say.
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
Hannah hiccupped and sighed, giving up.
“Let me get you some water,” I say.
“No, no. Go. Enjoy the party.” Hannah says.
“What about you—”
“Whatever,”
“I’m coming back,”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”
I leave the bathroom on the search for some water and quickly find some at the beverage table. No one come up to me, please.
“Ruck!” I hear her melodic voice.
“Lauren,” I say, turning around, glass in hand. “Congratulations, it’s a beautiful wedding,” I say awkwardly.
A disappointed look crosses her face as she stumbles. “The flowers aren’t wisteria,”
I stare at her blankly. “I hadn’t noticed—”
“It doesn’t matter. You and Hannah were killing it earlier,” she says. She’s smiling and definitely a bit tipsy. Maybe you should pay more attention to exactly how drunk people are, Ruck.
“Did you pay her to drag me up there?” I say.
“Would it be such a bad thing?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Lauren,”
“Oh, I promise, this was purely for selfish intent,”
“So you just enjoy making me look foolish?”
“Yeah, yeah I do,” Lauren picked up a glass of champagne. “Where’s Hannah?”
“Oh shit—in the bathroom. I’m looking after her. I should go,” I nod at her and turn to leave.
“What happened?!” Lauren says behind me. She starts to follow.
“Oh, it’s fine, she’s just unwell, you should stay—” I reached the bathroom door, Lauren unfailing right behind me.
“I needed a break anyway. Come on,” she says.
I sigh, and enter the bathroom with the glass of water, immediately handing it to Hannah who since hadn’t changed position. She was alarmed to see Lauren.
“Lauren! Get out of here, go back to your wedding,” Hannah says.
“Was it the skewers?” Lauren asks.
“I dunno,” Hannah burps.
Lauren bursts out laughing, leaning on the counter.
“Sip your water,” I say.
“Sip your water,” Hannah turns her nose up to me, sipping her water.
“You guys have been enjoying yourselves?” Lauren asks with a smile, though a twinge of anxiety creeps through her tone.
“More than I thought I could,” I say.
“You’re such a gentleman about it,” Lauren says.
“More than I thought I could,” Hannah mocks.
“Jeez, sorry,” I say.
“It’s great, Lauren. I’m sorry for being a pooper. I might’ve had a bad… something,” Hannah says.
“It’s okay! We can all be… poopers, sometimes. I’m worried I—” Lauren says.
“Stop worrying, please.” I say a bit sterner than I intend. Lauren looks at me with an eyebrow raised. She’s still so perfectly put together—her lipstick, her lashes, her hair even her dress. I’d probably say that no matter the case. I gulp, taking in her perfume. “Today is your day, you don’t need to worry about whether or not everyone else is having fun – which they are, by the way, a terrific amount,” I say. “The only person who needs to be worried about anything is Daniel, and that’s to make sure he knows how lucky he is to marry you, Lauren,” I’m finding it hard to breathe as she looks at me, and I’m a vampire??
“You know just what to say,” Lauren says, the corners of her lips curling upwards. “I hope you had fun abroad, though I do wish you could’ve been in the wedding party,”
“Yeah I know, I’m sorry,” I say, looking away to Hannah, who’s currently studying our conversation.
“Okay, I’m gonna go find my husband,” Lauren says, showing off her ring. “Take care, you two,” she says. Hannah waves.
“Have fun, Lauren,” I say, almost breathlessly. I smell her perfume once more until she leaves the bathroom. I only notice how long I gazed after her when I see Hannah staring daggers at me. “What?” I say.
“You’re still…” Hannah trails off.
“I’m still?”
“You get away from her,”
“I’m not doing anything to her,”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say rather aggressively.
“You look at her like—” Hannah gulps. I dread what she says next. “—like you wanna marry her,”
I chuckle dryly.
Hannah opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “Oh,” she says, simply. “I’m sorry,”
“I’m fine, Hannah, really,” I say, holding my hand from shaking. I turn the sink on and wet my face with the water. I hear Hannah shift behind me. She joins me at the sink, also turning it on and wiping her face with water.
“Did you wanna marry her?” Hannah asks bluntly.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
“So tell me,” She says, leaning on the sink. “It doesn’t matter,” she retorts. “Did you wanna marry her?”
“It was too messy, I could tell she really loved him, so I told her no, because I didn’t want—” something reaches up my throat, choking me. “And yet,” I look at Hannah, out of breath. I wipe my face once more with a wet hand.
Hannah put a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll pass,” she says.
“I’ve watched Fleebag,”
“Of course you have,”
“I have tried everything. No matter how far away I am, or how long, nothing goes away. I am tormented for the rest of my life—it was gonna be my happiness or hers, so, I hope she’s…” I trail off.
“I wish you’d done something. It would’ve been fun to watch,” she leans her back against the counter, staring into the stalls.
“Yeah well, this isn’t a movie,” I say. “So,”
Hannah takes a deep breath. “Your secrets are safe with me,”
“No one needs to know,” I affirm.
“You might want to make it a little less obvious to keep it that way,” Hannah’s voice grows hoarse as she says it, before patting me on the back and leaving the bathroom.
I cover my face with my hands.
“Excuse me?” I hear from behind me. Lauren’s mother has walked in. “Uh, sorry Ruck, I think this is the women’s,” she says awkwardly.
“Sorry, oh my gosh,” I say, taking my leave.