My Big Fat Low-Fat Wedding (29 page)

“Oh my god, Lolz.” I put my face into my palm, embarrassed at my friend’s obvious drunkenness.

“Isn’t that the cutest lesbian nickname?” Veronica is all smiles at her fiancé.

“Let’s see a lesbian kiss then.”

Did Craig-O just verbalise a strange request?

“Come on, love!” Lara puckers her lips at the same time I’ve decided to raise my mortified head. “Let’s show them our post-vows smooch that we’re going to do at our wedding.”

Oh. Okay. That is it. This is the final straw. Best friend forever, or not, Lara has taken things too far. There is no way I’m going to share a lesbian kiss with her. Not that I mind if real lesbians want to kiss in public. Or that I even mind straight women trying out same-gender snogging, it’s just not something I plan on ever doing with someone I’ve known basically all my life.

I’m the sober one here. Lara doesn’t realise half the mortified feelings she’s going to wake up to upon sobering.

“You’re a cheeky one, Craig darling.” Veronica slaps the back of her fiancé’s hand playfully. “It’s almost as if you don’t believe they’re proper lesbians!” She barks a hysterical laugh and gets that familiar crazy look in her eye.

Lara is still puckering her lips at me. She’s moving in closer. Veronica is staring at me like a maniac. Her fiancé is gazing at myself and Lara lasciviously. Dear god how do I get myself out of this incredibly awkward situation? I don’t know what to do. Should I just go with it, smooch my friend, and get it over and done with? What’s going on with my lips? They’re pooching out of their own accord! I can’t control myself! I don’t know what to do! What to do—

“Blllaaaaaarrrgghh.”

Lara has stopped puckering her lips at me because her mouth is wide open as she vomits into my lap.

***

Having vomit spewed into your lap is not an advised way of relaxing during a bridal show tour.

I’d cleaned up the best I could in the ladies toilets and then Lara and I had gone to our hotel room so I could change. That was yesterday. Today’s bridal show visit was conducted without imbibing a single drop of wine. Now that we’re headed home I’m ever so grateful no alcohol was consumed on day two.

“Thanks for a lovely time, Lolz,” I say, standing in the doorway once we arrive at mine.

“I’ve said I’m sorry like a million times.” Lara pouts.

“I know. It’s just… sick is disgusting.”

“Yes… yes it is.” My best friend bows her head in shame. “And it was really extra disgusting sick with all that specialty food I ate.”

Oh. Never mind. She’s not shameful. She’s exacerbating the problem.

“Remind me never to invite you to one of my food tastings ever again.” I’m about to slam the door in her face when she puts a hand out to stop me.

“You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

I sigh loudly. “No, of course I wouldn’t. But you’re banned from eating my specialties for at least a month.”

She hisses inwardly through her teeth. “That’s harsh. You’re a mean old cow, aren’t you.”

Her use of the word cow stings. I haven’t told Lara about the cow-poop-in-face incident, and I’m determined to never ever breathe a word of that fiasco to her ever. What is it about gross things lately? I might as well have a swimming pool installed and get the thing filled with vomit and poo. Then I could jump into it every morning just to ensure karma already knows I’ve had my daily dose of foul bodily fluid drenching.

After reassuring Lara that I’m only partially joking about banning her from my cookery tastings, she finally leaves. I’m ready to drag myself upstairs into a steaming hot bath, but the doorbell chimes.

“I said you’re not banned.” I shout upon opening the door again, thinking Lara is still standing outside.

“Banned from what?”

It’s not Lara. It’s Brenda.

“Oh nothing.” I sigh. “Come on in.”

“Actually, I need you to come out here and join me.”

I highly doubt she needs me to do anything. Nevertheless, I walk out the front door and far away from a relaxing warm bath. “Where are we going?” I ask my soon-to-be-mother-in-law as we hurry along the pavement.

“There’s a new treatment at my spa that I think you’ll really benefit from, Emily.”

When we arrive at the Meli Spa I’m taken into the treatment area. “I didn’t know they had private rooms.”

Brenda tells me to sit on the bed that resembles a hospital gurney. “Now you just lie there and the nurse will be in shortly.”

Nurse? Since when does a beauty treatment require the assistance of medical staff? I’m feeling slightly worried as I lie here looking up through the sky-light above.

“What’s keeping them?” Brenda leaves the room and I’m left to stew in my worried state of mind.

While she’s out I quickly text Callum:

WHAT’S THIS NEW TREATMENT YOUR MUM HAS GOING AT THE MELI SPA?

He doesn’t reply and when Brenda returns to the room I’m even more concerned to find that the nurse she went to retrieve is a redheaded man.

“What sort of beauty treatment is this, Brenda?” I ask her nervously.

“It’s a detox treatment, darling.”

“A what?” I jump quickly off the bed.

“Relax, it’s just an enema.”

I… I can’t even… my brain cannot process…

Why do I do these things to myself? Why did I leave the confines and safety of my house with Brenda the obvious lunatic? I could have been happily laid back in a nice warm bath by now, rather than fearing for the state of my inner bowels at this present moment in time.

“Brenda. I’m not having the shit sucked out of my arse. I can use the toilet just fine on my own thanks.”

The ginger bloke raises his eyebrows and stops fidgeting with his shit-sucking machine for a second.

“Your waste products are not sucked out, Emily. They are merely washed out pleasantly with local fresh water that rejuvenates the digestive tract.”

Well, well, well. Someone’s been paying attention in the how-to-sell-an-enema-to-hapless-fuckwits class. I for one am no such fuckwit who’s gullible enough to have the shit either sucked or washed out of them… out of me… whatever! It’s so not happening to my backside.

Knock, knock, knock. There’s a pounding on the door. “Emily, are you in there?”

“Callum!” I scream overly dramatically at the sound of my fiancé’s voice. “I am in here, please save me!”

“Oh for god’s sake, Emily.” Brenda scowls at me and opens the door.

“Mum, I specifically said you shouldn’t ask Emily about this procedure.” Callum walks into the room and the redhead nurse guy choses this moment to wisely —in my opinion— leave.

“I know you did, dear, but I just though Emily would benefit from—”

“Oh Mum.” Callum cuts his mother off mid-sentence, which is something I’ve never known him to do before. “Just please, not this time, okay?”

“But I’m only looking out for your health, sweetie.” Brenda looks as though she’s going to cry.

I feel really bad. I didn’t know Callum was going to show up here. I guess he’d been alerted to my whereabouts when I’d sent him that text. I’m also guessing Brenda had asked him first about this enema thing. And I’m thirdly assuming he didn’t go for the idea.

I’m glad that my fiancé is in agreement with me about the goings-on inside my own lower intestines, and I don’t see why Brenda is taking it to heart. She really must love keeping people in shape. It must mean a lot to her.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, Cal—”

He cuts me off with an angry glare. “Look,” he says, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Let’s all just have lunch at the spa restaurant, okay. It’s my treat. I think we all need to relax for a bit.”

And just like that he’s back to being my hero once again. My darling fiancé has just saved me from faecal disaster for the second time in one week. The first time may have involved cow faeces instead of my own human shit, but who cares? I’m just glad I won’t be dealing with shit from the backend of any species today.

Chapter 19

Over the past few weeks everything has been sorted for our wedding. I finally got the dress I wanted, even though it might not be the dress of my dreams. It’s not like I can back out of wearing it now anyway, Lara is sorting the exact alterations with her own two hands. She promised me she won’t be leaving any of the sewing tasks to her robot.

Today is lovely and sunny and I’m hoping the weather holds out over the next couple of days. Callum and I aren’t having an outdoor wedding, or anything like that, but no one wants it to rain on their wedding day, even if it is indoors.

“Now, isn’t this relaxing?” My fiancé surprises me with quite a forceful kiss on the cheek.

“Careful!” Steadying the paper plate I’m holding, I avoid dropping it onto the grass all together. “I’m not going to be very relaxed if you spill potato salad all over my new garden dress.”

“And what a stunning dress it is.” Callum kisses me more gently on my cheek this time. “You could wear that dress to the wedding and you’d still be the shining star of the day.”

I’d whack my fiancé on the arm for even suggesting I wear a picnic dress to my own wedding, but my hands are full of food and drink at the moment. “Let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

We’re at the CoTechnic open day picnic. It’s the one day per year when the science institute opens its doors to family and friends of its employees. Well, I say ‘open doors’ when I mean ‘open gates’. CoTechnic is a top former military scientific research facility. It has north, east, west and south security check points and only one of them is ‘open’ today. Everyone had to enter through the south gate to much trafficy frustrations.

Now that we’re here though, I really am starting to relax. Getting things sorted for the wedding have really done my head in lately.

“Oh look, there’s Lara. Let’s sit over there by her.” Callum and I wander over with plates and plastic cups of beer in hand. Lara is sat on a low brick wall munching on her food.

She looks up at us as we approach. There’s a terrible scowl on her face and I swear I see her eyes flash with tears briefly. “Oh my god, Emily.” Lara chokes down her bite of food and jumps to her feet. “Umm, I was just leaving.”

“You what?” I glance at Callum, surprised. He shrugs his shoulders. “But surely you just got here—”

“Yes but I… I need to finish your dress alterations.” Lara grumbles, looks at the ground and stomps away.

I can do nothing but gaze after her in astonishment. She’s been acting weird lately, but this just takes the biscuit. “I swear that girl is avoiding me.”

Callum and I take her empty space on the low wall. Other families with their children are milling about while some are sat on the grass eating. My fiancé snorts after taking a bite of food. “I’m sure Lara is just a bit nervous about getting her best friend’s dress just right, honey.”

Callum has a good point. I mean, it’s not like she would actually be trying to avoid me so close to my big day. I laugh quietly to myself. I don’t know why I’m so paranoid, it probably has something to do with the fact that I’ll be participating in the most profound moment of my life thus far, in two days’ time.

After we finish eating and downing our beers, I wander off on my own while Callum has a chat with some work colleagues.

“Bomb her!” I hear a child scream and I look up.

Sitting on top of an old military tank that’s been transformed into a statue, is a boy of about ten years in age.

“Watch out lady!” A younger girl who’s probably age eight, pops her head round the back of the de-commissioned tank.

It’s too late though. I now realise I’m standing in the worst possible place. I’ve walked into a trap and I now find myself staring up at the massive barrel of the tank’s gun.

“Don’t shoot!” I cry, raising my hands into the air. “I’m innocent I tell you!”

“You’re a terrorist, lady! And I’m going to blow you up!”

“Oh for god’s sake, Steven, get down from there this instant.”

Phew. I’ve just been saved from imaginary bombing by the boy’s mother. Paige has her hands on her hips and her face looks thunderous. I don’t know if she’s angry at her kid for climbing onto the tank, or if she’s more embarrassed by his outburst about terrorists.