Page 85 of The Notecard
‘Can we just leave?’
She sees the look on my face. The look of desperate horror. She realises what’s happened.
‘Oh, Nick, I’m sorry. I really thought…’
‘Me too, Dotty.’
Dotty and I walk back to the car together. I need to drive back to London and then to Nottingham. My new life awaits. Meg isn’t going to be a part of it. My mind is numb. I sit in the car in silence. I took a risk. I made a fool of myself. But unlike in stories and in films, it didn’t pay off. They lied to me. Sometimes you don’t get the girl. It breaks my heart. I sit in the car and watch the world go by, and despite the pain that sits on my heart, slowly breaking it down cell by cell, I hear Dad’s laughter. He’s out there somewhere. He’s young and we’re running through the sea, holding hands, and I hear him laughing. Fuck that laugh, it gets me every time.
Meg
Mum and Dad are gyrating on the dancefloor like it’s 1985. Dad is behind her, and she’s pushing herself into him, and to be honest, it’s disgusting. Dad just whooped. He took off his Paul Smith jacket a few hours ago, and now his shirt is unbuttoned at least two buttons less than is anywhere near appropriate. And he’s sweating. God, how he’s sweating, and Mum’s boobs are threatening to free themselves from her dress. I really hope they don’t. I suppose I should be happy that they’re back together, and so in love, and I am, but oh my god, Dad just tried to do the splits! Mum’s helping him up. He won’t be trying that again in a hurry. His Paul Smith trousers almost had a tear where the sun doesn’t shine. Dad thinks he’s John Travolta! They keep on dancing though. Drunk on either the free alcohol or perhaps it’s just love.
I’m at the bar getting in another drink and trying to stay out of everyone’s way. I’m terrible company at the moment. I just want to get slowly drunk on my own. It’s eleven-thirty and I still can’t believe what Nick did. The words he said. He loves me. Laura was fuming after he left, and shouted at me in the hallway, as if Nick coming here was all instigated by me because I just can’t help myself. I’m so jealous of her that I had to try and ruin everything, and just because James fucked that other girl, it doesn’t mean I get to make today all about me. I said nothing back because, well, it’s her big day, and you can’t go around swearing at brides.
The rest of the afternoon and evening has been a bit of a blur. I can’t stop thinking about Nick. About what he said. About what I said back. He told me he loved me. I can only imagine the amount of courage it took to do it, and I said no. And then he left. I have probably broken his heart, and the worst part is that I have no idea how I feel about him. I like him a lot. I might even love him. The problem is that I can’t trust myself at the moment. I don’t know how I feel about anything. I just need to go away. I’m focused on that, but a part of me can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake. Timing. Moments.
I’m at the bar when Adam walks over. He’s drunk.
‘This is your last chance, Meg,’ slurs Adam. ‘I’m getting some big vibes from a girl called Vicky, but it’s you I want. What do you say, Meg? You and me. For one night only?’
‘How about you and me for a serious long-term relationship?’
‘I don’t understand. What do you mean?’
He’s standing right next to me. So very close. The evening reception is in a marquee on the hotel lawn. There’s a band playing all the classics. The dance floor is packed full of people letting loose. There’s lights and bunting. It’s gorgeous. Laura did a good job. She really did. She should be a wedding planner. She’d love it.
‘I’m not a one-night stand sort of girl, Adam. If you sleep with me, it’s because you want a relationship. I’ll expect a level of commitment, and maybe something in writing that states we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.’
‘For me to have sex with you, I need to be your boyfriend?’ says a perplexed Adam.
‘That’s right. I only do super serious, Adam. So unless you’re ready for a proper, mature, grown-up relationship, I suggest you scuttle back to Vicky.’
‘I, umm, don’t, umm,’ says Adam, who suddenly looks very uncomfortable.
I’m not being very kind, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t assume that just because I’m a bridesmaid and he’s the best man, he gets to sleep with me.
‘I, umm, think I should...’ says Adam solemnly before he walks off.
I can’t help but smile. He walks a few paces then runs onto the dancefloor, as the band starts playing Dancing Queen by Abba. He’s soon talking to a girl, probably the aforementioned Vicky, and before long they’re snogging like teenagers at a school disco. Dad seems to have recovered from his attempt at the splits, and he and Mum are dancing next to a couple of boys, probably about seven or eight, who are running up and down the dancefloor skidding on their knees. I think they’re having the best evening. I wish I was eight years old and skidding on my knees at a wedding. I don’t know where Laura is. Simon is talking to some friends and he seems to have recovered from the Tenerife story. I’m standing at the bar, sipping on a gin and tonic, watching the night unfold before me. Friends laughing and talking, couples dancing, children playing, and love is definitely in the air. The band starts playing Love Is All Around. There’s a happy, loved up vibe, but I don’t feel like a part of it. I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I’m going to sneak off back to my room after I nip outside for a cigarette. An early night and then back home tomorrow to get ready. One day and counting.
I take my drink and head outside. They’ve set up a designated smoking area, and when I get there, Dad’s cousin, Stan, is having a cigarette. Stan is overweight, bald, and sells cars in Kent.
‘Alright, love?’ says Stan, in his wheezy (will surely die from lung cancer) voice. The government should use him in anti-smoking campaigns.
‘Yeah, good, thanks,’ I say, lighting up my own cigarette.
‘Weird business with that fella earlier. He must really love you to make such a prat of himself like that.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Obviously you don’t feel the same though or he’d be here now. Still, you gotta follow your heart, love. Do what feels right. I’ve been married to Sue for nearly forty years. Jesus, forty years. It’s hard to believe. Never regretted it once.’
‘That’s good,’ I say, taking a puff on my cigarette.
‘She probably regrets it every day,’ says Stan, and he laughs at his own joke
Stan finishes his cigarette, and then he looks at me.
