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Guests. Half an hour.
It was Saturday. We were having a mini Vola brunch today. And then I was driving up to Whistler with Mom to check out the wedding venue.
Without opening my eyes, I groaned and rolled onto my side. I groped for the bedside table where I hoped last-night-me, as wasted as she was, was kind enough to leave a glass of water for today-me.Yes.Eyes still closed, I found my mouth with the glass and, after spilling most of it down my neck, managed to get a few swallows down my throat.
Then I set the glass down and lay in bed, blinking carefully in the blinding morning light, as I began to visualize my day. One step at a time.
Mop up spilled water with sheet.
Get out of bed.
Take a shower.
Brush teeth.
Brush hair.
Find my less revealing bikini. The one that won’t make Mom do that non-frowning thing.
Get dressed.
Fuck makeup. We’re talking necessary exertions only.
Go downstairs.
Find a jug of juice and chug the entire thing.
Done.
Ready to greet guests.
That wasn’t so hard, was it?
Except I was still lying in bed.
And I’d forgotten something. Something super important.
I just couldn’t remember what it was…
Then it all came back to me in a rush.
I sat up so fast, my skull hurt.Ow.Last night.
Shane.
The brunette, bent over.
My boob popping out.
“Fuck me.” I collapsed back onto the bed again.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat.“Jolie, my dear! It’s time to get up! There’s something out here for you! Lady brunch is in an hour!”
The woodpecker was back, persistently delighted with the idea of my rising. I did my best to dismiss the pleasant memory of my tiny, overpriced apartment in San Diego, shared with two roommates but blissfully free of mothers and woodpeckers.
She’s just happy that you’re here.
And happy to be getting married in four weeks.
