Jennifer:For now. Let me process this for a while and get back to you.
Pippa:Seriously, is that it?
Jennifer:Got to run.
Pippa:You’re not even going to qualify ‘interesting’. Just a little bit?
Jennifer:Nope. Hope the wedding isn’t too horrendous. Send me pics. Would love to see this bridesmaid dress you complain of.
I waited for Andrew outside the reception hall. The ceremony was over and everyone was making their way there. When I saw him, a realization blinked before my eyes like a neon sign on the Las Vegas strip. It was no longeronlymy subconscious that wanted to have sex with him. He walked closer in this effortless way that made him look like he was gliding on air. God, he looked amazing in that suit and tie. Synonyms includedunbelievable, wonderful, marvellous. His hair was styled in a way I’d never seen before, and the dark shadow of stubble across his jaw immediately made him look more masculine, if that was even possible.
‘You look . . .’ He started and stopped.
‘Stop! Don’t say it,’ I warned him, suddenly aware of what I was wearing.
‘It’s not as bad as you made it out to be. The other day you made it seem like something out of an eighties horror movie.’
‘It is out of an eighties horror movie.’ I looked down at the dress. The double, triple, quadruple – who knew how many layers this thing had – dress. ‘She calls the color Thulian pink!’
‘It is very pink,’ Andrew said, tilting his head from side to side.
‘I googled Thulian pink. It’s in the color family Pastel Crimson.Crimson!’
He smiled.
‘I look like a life-size Barbie. We all do. What adult dresses her four bridesmaids in bright pink from head to toe, and with so many ruffles?’
Andrew’s smile turned into a laugh.
‘Even my mom tried to talk her out of this choice, but she was determined. Have you seen my parents?’
‘Yes, I saw them at the ceremony. Your mom was wearing an earpiece and yelling commands at people like I’ve never seen before. She’s terrifying.’
‘You look nice,’ I said, pointing at him, trying to make it sound cool and casual, even though it was anything but cool and casual in my head. I was currently running over synonyms for the word sexy:sensuous, seductive, provocative, arousing, come-hither, titillating.
‘The man at the shop said that black was out and mid-gray was in.’ He held his arms out in a questioning gesture. ‘Also said it would complement pink more.’
‘Mid-gray?’ I eyed the suit, trying to decide what exactly made this gray ‘mid’, and if ‘mid’ was referring to middle, then what was it in the middle of exactly? But at least now I was contemplating his suit and not how steamy, racy and inviting he was. Andrew stuck his head around the door and looked into the hall.
‘It looks incredible in there. Your mom is amazing at what she does.’
I peered in too. There was a reason my mom was the country’s most sought-after wedding planner. She always managed to transform an empty room into something that looked like it had been plucked straight out of the pages of a fairy-tale. Although this sort of thing was not for me – low-hanging crystal chandeliers, hundreds of flickering candles, bowls of floating flowers and bunches of plum-white peonies – I had to admit it was beautiful in its own kind of way. Every detail had been attended to: the elegantly folded napkins, gold hand-calligraphed name tags on the tables, and all the other things that had been painstakingly done behind the scenes that you could not see.
‘She really is very good!’ I said.
‘But is the best man sticking to the wedding plan?’ Andrew asked.
‘As far as I know,’ I said.
‘Shall we find our table?’ he asked.
I nodded and then quickly shook my head. ‘Wait. I just need a minute outside, alone, if you don’t mind. That whole service was very . . .’ I searched for the word that wouldn’t make me sound as crazy as I’d felt standing up there. The sound of the organ had made me want to slither out of my skin and melt into the floor. I’d physically felt everyone’s eyes on me, and that had made me nauseous. The cheering at the end and the throwing of the confetti, and it raining down on me, had made me feel disorientated and terrified, as if under attack. I could still feel psychosomatic confetti clinging to my skin. The dress I was wearing had felt prickly and itchy and it had taken all my concentrationnotto scratch myself in front of an entire church full of people. I just needed a moment alone to decompress before I went into the reception and faced yet another sensory circus.
Andrew nodded, as if he understood what I was saying. ‘I’ll go and find our table. See you inside.’
When I was alone, I circled the lawn a few times, walking in a slow, deliberate manner. I looked around and named the things I could see, then listed the things I could hear and then the things I could feel. I did this for about ten minutes, to bring my hyperarousal down a few notches. This was something that a therapist I’d had many years ago had taught me. It was perhaps the only useful thing the therapist had taught me. I find therapy baffling. So much was said in sessions, and yet nothing was said at all. And everything that was said was shrouded in mysterious terms that made no sense. Did I even have an inner child? And how did I know that child wanted to be soothed? Maybe she wanted to run wild and jump and gallop across the fields? And what age child were we talking about anyway? Baby me, toddler me, teen me? It was all very confusing and impractical, hence the fact she was an ex-therapist, and not a current one. I’d given up on therapy many years back when I realized that it just didn’t work for me.
I continued around the garden a few more times, and the silence and the breeze and the cool glass of water I was sipping on did finally do the trick. And when I’d balanced myself out as much as I could under the circumstances, I mustered the courage to go inside.
