Page 20 of Four Aunties and a Wedding

It clearly was not fine. I asked how his dad’s back was, and he said it was somewhat improved this morning, though he was still in a lot of pain, and my entire head burned with shame andguilt. I asked how his mom was handling it, and his mouth pressed into a thin line and then he said, “She’s fine,” and changed the subject, asking me how my family and I were. “I’m fine,” I told him. “We’re fine.”

So many fines, none of them real. I can only hope they’re just normal wedding nerves. I have shot over a hundred weddings, and more than two-thirds of my couples have required a calming speech from me, or the maid of honor, or the wedding organizer. This is just one of those things. Still, the whole day, that terrible, insecure part of me just wanted to scream, “DO YOU STILL WANT TO MARRY ME BUH BUH BUH BWAAAH?” I am proud of the fact that I managed to squash down that part of me. See, I’m not totally pathetic! I was actually somewhat relieved when we finally finished the last errand and Nathan dropped me off at the hotel. We’d agreed in advance that he’d spend the night before the wedding at his parents’ house and I would stay at the Randolph. I’m half happy, half sad over that decision. On the one hand, I have the privacy of the entire room to freak out in. On the other hand, I kind of wanted to freak out together with Nathan.

“Earth to Meddy,” Seb says. “What are you thinking about?”

How happy I am that everyone I love is here for my wedding, I want to say. Instead, I blurt out, “I think Nathan’s having second thoughts.”

“Aww, hon,” Seb says, “he’s probably just having those typical wedding jitters, you know what they’re like, god knows we’ve had to talk more than our fair share of brides and grooms down off the ledge.”

“True story,” Staph says, nodding wisely. “And I’ve seen the way Nathan looks at you. That’s marriage-level love, that is.”

“They were like that in college too,” Selena says. “Can you imagine how gross it was being her roommate?”

“You poor, unfortunate soul,” Seb says. “How did you even stand it?”

Selena places her hand on her forehead dramatically. “I don’t know how I managed, honestly. Anyway, our point is, you and Nathan are so clearly meant to be. This whole anxiety thing is like what Seb and Staph said: normal wedding-day jitters.”

“I hope so.” Then I feel absolutely terrible for being a whiny baby and force a smile. “Come on, let’s go dance.”

The next two hours or so pass by in a blur of us jumping and dancing and more drinks. At some point, we all decide we’re done for the night and stumble out of the throbbing club with our arms flung around one another, laughing and talking way too loud. My ears are still buzzing and the world is swaying at my feet.

“I wanna go to a pub,” Seb says.

“Yes! Let’s go to the Eagle and Child. That was where Tolkien wroteThe Hobbit, you know,” Selena says.

“Really?” I blink, trying to envision Tolkien writing in a pub.

“Well, I don’t know if he actually wrote there or if he just went there to get sloshed, but he was definitely a patron. I read they have a plaque and everything.”

“I would love to, but I should go to bed. I have to wake up early for hair and makeup tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you do,” Staph says, “because YOU ARE GETTING MARRIED! Ahh!”

We all laugh and squeal at one another.

“Okay, Selena and I will go to the Eagle and Child. What about you, Staph? You coming?” Seb says.

Staph shakes her head. “I have to work tomorrow,” she says, winking at me, “so I’ll call it a night too. I’ll walk you back to your hotel, Meddy.”

We part ways and Staph and I head toward the Randolph. “Your friends are so great,” Staph says.

“They really are. I’m lucky to have them in my life. I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” I link my arm through hers and she smiles at me. “Are you going to be okay walking back to your hotel alone?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Staph says. “I’m going to meet up with Third Uncle for ice cream at G&D’s. That’s not very far away from the Randolph at all. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” At the entrance to my hotel, we hug again and then part ways. I go into the lobby, smiling dopily, and rummage through my bag for my key card. My fingers brush up against a box. Dammit! I’d prepared little gifts for both Seb and Selena and, at the last minute, had decided to give Staph one too, because she’d been so helpful with all of the prep leading up to the wedding. I take out the box and then totter back out onto the street, pausing to let the chilly air sober me up a bit more.

This time of night, the streets are almost empty, save for random groups of rowdy, drunk college kids. I spot Staphanie’s form in the distance and walk briskly toward her. She’s on her phone. I try to call out her name, but my voice is hoarse from shouting in the club and I end up coughing instead. No choice but to jog to catch up with her.

A few paces away, I catch snatches of conversation.

“Yes, it’s still on,” Staph says, irritation showing clearly in her voice. “No, I’m not drunk, I spat—”

Huh? Scenes from the evening flash through my mind. Staph had carried a bottle of cider with her the whole night, which she’d used to chase down whatever shots we took. But now that I think about it, did she use the bottle to spit the shots into instead of chasing them down? I can’t—I don’t understand why she would. I slow down my steps so I won’t be breathing hard and keep a few paces behind her.

“—I needed to—partying otherwise—get suspicious.”

What’s going on? I walk even closer to her.

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