Page 14 of Going Overboard

Ah, well, here we go. I sigh and finally hit ‘call’.

Two rings and she picks up.

‘This is Emma,’ she says, in a way that sounds like she believes it just cost her money, having to explain that to me.

She sounds like someone who irons her nighties and judges people for drinking Prosecco instead of champagne.

‘Hi! This is Jessa, I’m Kelsey’s chief bridesmaid. She suggested I call you as we just need to make some changes to the cabin set-up, for the boat.’

Silence. Not the sort of silence where someone’s writing something down. The kind where you can hear the frown. A silence just long enough to suggest I’ve already inconvenienced her.

‘And what sort of change would that be?’ she asks.

‘Well, it’s?—’

‘And it’s a ship, not a boat,’ she can’t help but interrupt me.

‘Isn’t a ship just, like, a really big boat?’ I ask.

‘I don’t have time for this, Jessa,’ she snaps back.

Ha! She was the one who started it. Anyway…

‘Right, well, as I was saying, we just need to make some changes.’

‘You said that,’ she replies. ‘What changes?’

If she could stop interrupting me for five seconds, I could tell her.

‘I am currently down as sharing a room – a cabin – with Todd,’ I say, quick to self-correct, before she chimes in with any more fun facts. ‘We need separate rooms. Cabins! We need separate cabins.’

Another silence, this one even frostier than the last.

‘You want me to help you with that?’ she asks.

‘Well, yes, please, Kelsey said to call the wedding coordinator, or the planner – you, basically.’

‘I suppose you think they’re the same job,’ she says, sounding offended.

I absolutely do. But I don’t know the difference between a boat and a ship, so…

‘And why are we making such significant changes when the wedding is imminent?’ she asks.

‘We’ve broken up,’ I reply, keeping it simple. No need to unpack it too much, not when I’m trying to stuff my emotional baggage to the back of my mind.

I have a tendency to overshare when I’m anxious, or trying to justify myself, or make myself easier to relate to. If I start elaborating, I’ll end up telling her about the slow dancing, being savagely dumped in public, and the rogue floating ice cream in my bathwater. No one needs that visual.

‘Are you drunk?’ she asks.

‘No,’ I reply – although I have had a couple of cocktails. I thought it might help, give me a bit of Dutch courage, to make the phone call I’ve been putting off.

‘Are you high?’ she asks next.

‘Look, I know it’s late in the day, but I wasn’t expecting to need my own room, or for Todd to need his own room…’

‘Late in the day? Do you know how long I’ve been planning this wedding, young lady?’

I try not to snigger at her calling me a young lady, because I’m pretty sure she’s not much older than I am.

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