Bring an unexpected plus-one
WEDDING SEVEN
Leo and Ruby
Watch this space…
CHAPTER NINE
On the morning of Obi and Eva’s wedding, I feel positive about the day ahead.
In some ways, it’s a good thing that Matthew isn’t here getting ready with me. I can take as long as I like in the bathroom, for example. There are no impatient knocks on the door while I’m showering; no yells for me to “hurry up” because he needs to grab his beard trimmer. I don’t get told off for the fake tan all over the bedsheets from last night’s careful application, and no one gruffly mumbles that I’m “hogging the full-length mirror” when I have to check which shoes go with which dress.
As I finish curling my hair in my cozy dressing gown, I consider these advantages. I hate getting ready in a rush. I like to give myself lots of time just in case I change my mind on what I’m wearing, or if I make mistakes with my makeup and need to reapply. I hate rushing out the door frazzled in a whirlwind of last-minute stress. Matthew always teased me about taking so long. But it’s not like he would just throw something on at the last minute and casually stroll out the door. He liked to take his time with his appearance, too, which is why me hogging the bathroom would stress him out.
I’m learning that it’s important to acknowledge positives after a breakup along with all the painful stuff, so as much as I miss Matthew, there’s no denying I’ve had a bloody good timepeacefully applying my makeup while listening to an uplifting nineties-pop-star playlist.
Look at me, single and taking as long as I want. I saunter into the bathroom and spritz some perfume on my wrists. Lovely. I check my reflection in the mirror with no one nudging me out of the way so he can check his nostril hair is under control. Fabulous. This is so great.
I go to check the time on my phone charging by the bed.
Oh.Bollocks.
How is that the time?! I swear it’s only been about five minutes!! Leo and Ruby will be here any minute to pick me up in their Uber!And I’m in my dressing gown!
A car horn beeps outside.
Double bollocks.
I run around the room, tripping over the wire of my hair tongs not once, butthree times,until I unplug it in fury. I ignore my phone ringing and then the doorbell ringing as I throw my dressing gown off and grab the blue dress I’d splashed out on for the occasion. Yanking it off the hanger, I slip it on and then remember it has the main zip over the bum and then all these delicate hook and eye fastenings up the back to the neck.
Facing away from the mirror, I look over my shoulder and, clumsily reaching for and clasping the tiny little hook at the bottom, I attempt to attach it. I miss. I miss again.
It’s so tiny, I can’t see it in the mirror, so I forget about trying to look at my reflection, and instead rely on touch. I feel where the hook is. I feel where the opposite eye is. Aaaaandhook! Bugger it. Missed. Okay, there’s the little hook. There’s the little hole. If I just touch them together and then carefully move the hook up, it should just simply slide in. Easy. Aaaaaand…
Oh for fuck’s sake.
Who invented these tiny hooks that don’t hook?!
“Freya? Are you in there?” Ruby’s voice comes through the letterbox.
“Yes! Coming!” I shout back, shaking my arms out before getting ready to try again. “I’m just having trouble with the back of my dress!”
“Let me in, then I can help you.”
“No, I need to do it!”
“Why?”
“Because! I have to work out how to do it on my own!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have Matthew to help me with it anymore!”
“Yeah, but you have me!”
“You can’t just come over any time I need my dress done up!”
