Page 123 of The Wedding Menu

“That’s when everything went down,” I explain as the water trickles down our bodies and steam fills the room. “On the day of my wedding.”

It Doesn’t End with a Wedding

— THEDAY OFAMELIE’SWEDDING—

The hairdresser smiles at the mirror, and I return her joyful expression before averting my eyes. My stomach is a tangled mess of emotions, and since this morning I’ve held myself back from gagging twice already.

“We’re almost done,” she says, to which I distractedly nod. It’s the first moment I’m sort of alone since the day started and I was hurried out of the apartment and into a cab by Frank’s mom. She’s so nervous, it almost feels like she’s the one getting married in three hours.

“Your dress is beautiful,” the hairdresser says. I look up at the reflection of her kind eyes in the mirror, and she points at it. “I saw it hanging.”

“Thank you,” I breathe as I throw a look at the champagne princess gown. My backup dress. My voice is thin, barely audible, but she seems satisfied with my answer as she curls a lock of hair with the straightener.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to add some extensions?”

“No, only some curls.”

There’s a knock at the door and, without waiting for a greeting,Martha and Barb walk into the room. They shriek as my eyes meet theirs, and my heart palpitates. They’re both beautiful in their short, light blue dresses, but seeing those outfits only reminds me that this is happening. This is real. It’s the day of my wedding.

“How’s the bride doing?” Barb asks, dropping a kiss on my cheek.

“A little nervous, honestly.”

“That’s perfectly fine. I freaked out before my wedding. Remember?” she says.

I nod, but I can’t. She was brimming with excitement, counting down the seconds until she could walk down the aisle in her dress. She wasn’t fighting against her breakfast like I am right now.

“Where’s the photographer? Shouldn’t he be taking pictures?” Martha asks, her head bobbing to either side of the room.

“No, I think he took a billion. He was starting to get on my nerves.”

“Don’t be silly. You need pictures of you in the dress.” Throwing a disgruntled look at it, she gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Then maybe after the wedding you can explain why you went through the trouble ofstealingmy dress and you won’t even wear it.”

She leaves the room as I sigh, and Barb takes a seat next to me, then passes me a flute of champagne. “Happy wedding day.”

“Thank you.”

Her smile wavers. “Are you good?”

“I don’t know.” I swallow, my throat as dry as dust. Time is running out and I don’t know what to do, who can help me climb out of the spiral of panic I’m losing myself to. “What if I’m not sure? What if this is a mistake?”

She shakes her head. “No, of course not. You and Frank love each other so much. It’s jitters.”

“But what if it isn’t?” I ask, my voice cracking. “Since we gotengaged, things with Frank have changed, Barb. And then… I got close to Ian, and now I don’t know if this is what I want anymore.”

Her lips part in shock. “Ian? Who’s Ian?”

“And this—today wasn’t supposed to be like this. Here, with the wrong dress, the wrong flowers, the wrong—”

“Here we are!” Martha announces, reappearing with the photographer. Both the hairdresser and Barb are wide-eyed, but when I clear my throat and smile, they follow my lead, pretending nothing happened.

“It’s nerves,” Barb whispers, her eyes fixed on mine until I nod.

She nods, too, but I don’t think the makeup artist covered my pale skin very well, because her eyes scout my face. Maybe she can see the dark circles around my eyes, my sunken cheeks. I haven’t slept properly in weeks.

Why is it so fucking warm in here? It’s only the first week of spring.

The photographer instructs me to look in one direction and try out another pose as the hairdresser completes her work. Then it’s time to fit into the dress. It takes two people and a whole lot of swearing, but in under half an hour my shoes, gown, and veil are on. Martha and Barb talk around me. They say how beautiful the location is, comment on the guests who have arrived and their outfits, and speak of how they’re looking forward to the lunch, since my dad prepared it.

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