Page 40 of Cookout Carnage
Father Gabe says, “This is quite enough. This is unacceptable talk and behavior in the house of the Lord. Have some respect. Get a hold of yourselves.” He takes Tanya’s weapon
I stutter but maintain my voice, “Father, we’re terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. It was called off two days ago. There isn’t a wedding.”
Tanya shrieks, “Like hell, there isn’t.” Without warning, she reaches into my pocket and grabs my keys. “I’ll be at the altar.” She runs out of the room, rattling as she does from all the things hanging off her dress. Does she really think she can outrun me? I was a tight end in the NFL.
“Tell her to keep my truck. We’re leaving even if we have to walk.” My phone buzzes, and I glance at it.
TRISTAN: Get up here. I convinced Tanya’s mother to sing Michael Bolton. Also, your mom thinks it would be rude to leave without explaining everything to the town. And she’s frantically talking about candle making to anyone who tries to talk to her. She’s out of things to talk about. And she’s a lamb. I adore her. Come take care of your mother’s reputation and save her sanity.
SABRINA: Which Michael Bolton song?
RORY: Are you out? Is it done?
TABI: Update, please.
TRISTAN: Bloody fucking chaos. Get the fuck up here, mate. And bring your spring break jello shot of a woman with you.
BEN: Yeah, what happened there?
TRISTAN: Alcohol-filled melons exploded all over her.
TABI: And that’s why you should always drink wine.
TRISTAN: {Video of Tanya singing “Party in the U.S.A.” with the organ in the background}.
SABRINA: For a train wreck, she has a decent voice. Like, early American Idol good. She couldn’t make it to the Hollywood round now, but like twenty years ago she could have beat Rueben.
TABI: What the fuck is wrong with you, Bree?
SABRINA: The only thing to watch at the cottage in the woods are old VCR recordings of early American Idol. Kelly Clarkson clearly was the best singer. Not even sure why we ever considered Justin a viable option for the crown.
BEN: Aren’t you there with Patrick?
SABRINA: Yes.
BEN: Then surely you could make better use of your time.
SABRINA: I can’t hike anymore. Or swim in the bay.
TABI: SEX. He’s talking about sex. Go fuck Patrick to pass the time. We lost Jonathan and Tristan. Probably not reading anymore.
RORY: I wish I weren’t.
I tuck my phone away as they jabber on about nothing.
Pastor Gabe, in his best stern minister voice, grabs my attention. “Mr. Tucker and Ms. Dexter-Haven, you have work to do. Come with me, young man, and sort this out.” He points at me with his bible. I’m shocked I’m not struck down. He’s right. It’s not fair to my parents or the good people who came to the wedding because they care about me. And I need to stop the karaoke party.
“Mr. Tucker, clearly, you and Ms. Dexter-Haven are rekindling something. When did this happen?”
Jules takes my hand, and I notice a watermelon seed on her neck. I touch her cheek.
“Yesterday. And since the first harvest I can remember. The first sunset I thought was beautiful. The moment she doctored my face after my first fight. The first day of school, the first waffle, kiss, and goodbye. She’s never left my life. And I was so freaking consumed with making the farm conversion to soft winter wheat—”
Jules gasps. “You did? You did the Maker’s switch. I’m so proud of you.”
I kiss the top of her head and say, “And I’m sorry I didn’t get drunk sooner and make that call.”
“Technically, Tabi made the call.” I stop myself from putting my hands through her hair like I’ve dreamed of, mostly because it’s plastered to her head with what smells like Boone’s Farm Watermelon Summer.
