The Two-Night One-Night Wedding

by Ryan Ringbloom

  I glance at my watch for the time. “I wonder how the shower went.” Holly had sent me a text that she was going to dinner with her family before they went back home, but she hadn’t mentioned any details from the party.

  “I’m sure it was great.”

  “I hope so, ’cause things have been rough lately, between living with my parents and buying the house and wedding planning. Not to mention, Holly’s put a hold on any and all types of sex until we’re married, that’s certainly not helping things out.”

  “No sex. Brutal.” Jeremy’s mouth stretches into a yikes of disapproval. “But at least you only have a couple weeks to go.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m gonna make a couple of weeks, and I’m worried that even after the wedding Holly is gonna still be weird about it. She has it in her head that my mother doesn’t like her.”

  “Any truth to that?”

  “None. My mom loves her. But I can’t seem to convince Holly of that.”

  “As far as the wedding planning, is that all taken care of? Anything you need help with?” Jeremy scratches his beard thoughtfully.

  “No. I think we’re good now. Holly has her dress, Romeo’s is taking care of the food and drinks, Kent hooked us up with a DJ, and he’s all set to do the ceremony for us. We have the marriage license.”

  “What about flowers?”

  “Oh yeah, Holly ordered the cake and flowers from Costco.”

  “She did? That’s surprising. I know she mentioned wanting stephanotis in her bouquet. Costco can’t do that. They don’t do tiered cakes, either.”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, and the conversation ends there as the lights dim and a spotlight shines onto the small stage. The music begins and a large foot with a chunky strapped heel pokes out of the purple velvet curtain, followed by a very full-sized leg.

  “Why, hello boys.” A large, scantily dressed woman with poufy red hair addresses the crowd. “I am Cinny-Mann Whisky, but you can call me… later.” Maybe I’m imagining it, but I think she winks a heavily eyelashed, powder-blue-covered eye directly at me. Laughter and applause fill the room.

  Cinny-Mann kicks up her legs to the slow, steady beat of a drum. Her large hips jerk back and forth to the beat before she breaks into song, and I’m blown away out how dead-on her vocals are. Wait, maybe she’s lip syncing?

  After Cinny-Mann leaves stage, Wiley Serious, who bears a striking resemblance to Miley Cyrus, twerks her way on stage to perform in skintight shorts. She squats down low and sends her round behind into a wave of ripples. I didn’t even know butts could move like that. Jeremy catches me in an openmouthed stare and elbows me before bursting into a hearty laugh.

  “What? A guy can look,” I say, sending him into near hysterics as he almost falls from his chair.

  Eleganza De Lite, a stunning blonde in a sequined gown, is next up. She belts out an Aretha Franklin song. This time I watch the lips closely and confirm she’s lip syncing. It’s strange to me that all these women have stripper-esque names but aren’t strippers. I guess with all the women in show biz, ya gotta make yourself stand out in whatever way possible.

  Last up is Blooming Bookay. The blushing bride is decked out in a patent leather white gown with cutouts at the waist and a voluminous feather boa around her neck. She takes her act onto the floor, singing to the guests, pausing to make small talk, and rubbing a satin-gloved hand over the shoulders, arms, and even heads of a few of the men in the audience.

  “He’s getting married, Ms. Bookay,” Jeremy says when she arrives at our table, pointing at me.

  “Well, congratulations.” She wraps the boa around me and shimmies her large covered breasts in front of my face. She bends down and puckers her lips in my direction. “Tell me, are you the groom or the bride?”

  “What?” I ask, bewildered, but she ignores me and saunters over to the next table. I look to Jeremy, but he just wipes away a few tears from his nonstop laughter, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

  What the…? Huh?

  I SIT IN my car and watch as the digital clock turns to eleven. I’ve been out here for twelve minutes, avoiding going inside. The shower was beautiful, and afterwards dinner with my family was actually normal and very enjoyable. But my gut sinks with a dread over seeing Mrs. Daniels, who I know is waiting right inside. I can see the living room light on.

  Jayne and my sister both mentioned the dishtowels. My mother just raised her eyebrows with a smug smile. They wondered if I was upset. I told them it isn’t a big deal at all. Because it isn’t. At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself. Simple, nice, plain, boring, beige dishtowels. Nothing wrong with that. It just means that the woman… hates my guts.

  I’m about to make my move and exit the car when my phone vibrates. I grab it, welcoming the excuse to stall for another minute.

  I open a text from Jeremy and immediately start laughing at the picture. Matthew is wrapped up in white feathers, being air kissed by someone who is clearly a drag queen. Well… clear to most. More laughter bubbles up. I reply to the text.

  Holly: Does Matthew know?

  Jeremy: Not a fucking clue.

  Every time I think I can’t love Matthew more, I’m proved wrong. One of these days I’m scared my heart might just explode. God, I love that man.

  Holly: LOL! Have fun!

  Jeremy: I’ll try not to have him home too late.

  I bite my lip, looking down at the picture one last time, stifling more giggles, before shoving the phone in my bag and stepping out to finally go inside. I prepare in my head what I will say to Mrs. Daniels when I see her: The shower was beautiful. The cake was delicious. All the gifts are wonderful. Then I’ll yawn, say how long the day was, and make a quick getaway upstairs.

  Inside, Mrs. Daniels is in the living room with a book in hand. I pop my head in for the rehearsed conversation. “Hi, Mrs. Daniels.”

  “Holly, I’ve been waiting up for you. Can you come sit?” She places the book down and extends a hand toward the sofa.

  Sit? Crap. Goodbye quick conversation.

  “The shower was beautiful,” I say, still trying to go with what I planned.

  “It was. Ashley is a wiz at putting together beautiful parties.”

  “And the cake was delicious.”

  “Very.” Mrs. Daniels nods in agreement.

  “All the gifts are wonderful.” I say the last comment and yawn. Almost there. I stand up for a second yawn and stretch into it for effect.

  “Well, I wanted to talk you about that. The dish towels….” She looks down at her hands.

  “I love them. They’re so useful. Thank you.” I react quickly. “They’re a great gift. Perfect.”

  “No, they’re not.” She shakes her head. “And truthfully, I didn’t even buy them, they were part of Ashley’s many wishing well gifts.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure what to say to that. She didn’t even buy the dish towels. “Um, that’s okay. Really, all you do for us, letting us live with you, we should be buying you a gift.” I force a smile.

  “Well, you did just buy me a new mirror,” she says.

  The forced smile vanishes and I throw up a little in my mouth. She knows about the mirror? What else does she know? “I’m…. It broke by accident.”

  “Oh, I know, honey. I shouldn’t even have said anything. I just want you to know that I understand accidents happen, and you could’ve just told us. We would’ve replaced it.”

  “I’m sorry.” My eyes start to fill. I don’t want them to, but they do. “I make so many mistakes, and I know I’m not good daughter-in-law material like Ashley and Robin. I want to be, but I think I’m just… different.” I’m starting to blubber.

  “Holly, stop. You are absolutely daughter-in-law material. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel any other way. You are a wonderful addition to the Daniels family.” She reaches for a tissue and wipes her nose, motioning with her elbow for me to sit back down. “I think I need to apologize if I’ve made you feel un
comfortable. It’s never been on purpose. It’s just that Matthew is… my baby. He’s my little boy, and sometimes I think it’s hard for me to grasp that he’s all grown up and that soon he’ll be married. I know it sounds silly, he’s a grown man.” This time her eyes fill, and she uses the same tissue to catch any tears before they spill. “With Kent and Patrick, it was different. Those two were practically born angsty teens, but Matthew, he’s… special.” She clears her throat into a soft chuckle. “Moms aren’t supposed to have favorites, but maybe I do.”

  I squirm on the sofa uncomfortably. I’m stealing her baby. Her favorite son. What do I say to something like that?

  “I love Matthew with all my heart.”

  “I know you do. And just like Matthew, you are a very special woman. You’re the perfect woman for him. Everything he needs and deserves.” My heart pounds in my chest. Does she mean it? She picks up an envelope from the end table. “This is my real gift to you. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you at the shower, but your mother had just given you her generous gift, and the last thing I wanted was to come across like I was trying to outshine her.” She hands the envelope to me.

  I take it, my hands shaking as I open it and pull out the thick papers inside. I read, and read again.

  “Maui?” My jaw drops. Am I dreaming?

  “Yes, everything has been taken care of. Air, hotel, transfers. I want you two to take the honeymoon you always dreamed of. The one you both deserve. Even if it is before the wedding.”

  “Yes, our pre-wedding-moon. Only us,” I say through my tears with an awkward grin.

  “Yes, only two people as special as you could pull off something that crazy and that wonderful.” She beams, and my lips twitch into a smile from the compliment.

  “This means so much to me.” I hold the papers up to my chest. “You have no idea. Ever since I met Matthew, I’ve always worried that maybe you didn’t think I was good enough, and some of the things you’ve seen….” I probably should not bring those things up.

  “All families are different, and in this family, I know privacy is always a bit of an issue. But believe me when I say we’ve all seen many things from every member of this family. And I know that a big family like this one takes some getting used to. But please don’t ever feel uncomfortable or question if we love you, because we do.”

  “I love you, too, Mrs. Daniels.” I get up from the sofa and run over to hug her. “This means so much to me. How can I ever thank you?”

  “Well, how about you stop calling me Mrs. Daniels and start calling me Grace?”

  “Thank you, Grace, for Maui….” Once again my eyes fill. “And for Matthew.”

  THREE MORE DAYS. I can do it.

  I think.

  Holly has been my roommate only for the past twenty-four days, but in three days we leave for our honeymoon, the one my amazing parents generously gifted to us. She has been adamant about waiting until we are away before touching of any kind. And once we land in Maui, I might have to do her right there at baggage claim.

  It’s quiet. The house is empty, something very rare around here. Holly’s out with Jayne, and my parents went two towns over to watch a cheer competition. I worked an early shift and have ten and a half hours until I need to return.

  What to do? What to do?

  What the…? I sit up on my elbows and listen. “Who said that?” No response. The house is still. Silent. Was it…? No. It couldn’t be. I relax back down. It was nothing. Just my mind playing tricks on me.

  I cross my arms and rest my hands behind my head. My eyes dart from place to place, finally landing on my Pokémon poster. It’s strange, being in my old room like this all alone. It brings me back. I almost have to laugh at the irony of being back home, this time with my fiancée but just as, if not more, sexually frustrated than I was as a teenager. What did I do back then to relieve all that pent-up frustration?

  Ahem. I remember what you used to do.

  Oh, no. This time I recognize the voice. It’s coming from deep within.

  It’s Peen.

  When I was younger, Peen—yes, my actual peen that I so cleverly referred to as Peen—would talk to me. Help me out. Guide me. But after meeting Holly and falling in love, Peen and I stopped talking.

  You’re not supposed to be here. We discussed this. I speak to him telepathically, just like the old days.

  You sure about that?

  I’m sure. Go away, Peen. I don’t need you.

  Okay. Anything you say. You’re the boss.

  He’s right. I am the boss. I close my eyes and try to shake him out of my mind.

  Hmm, nothing happened—I’m still here.

  Okay. That didn’t work. What else can I do? Maybe I should go for a run?

  Or….

  There is no “or.” In three days my issues will all be solved. I’ll be in a suite in Maui making love to my soon-to-be wife.

  Three days plus a twelve-hour flight. You’ll never make it, Matty boy.

  I will.

  Nope. I don’t think so. And even if you do, tough guy, what are you gonna do? Give her a three-second boink? You need to let loose now and be ready and virile for the honeymoon.

  Shut up! I cover my ears, trying to make the voice go away. How do I get you to leave?

  I’m glad you asked. I say, go to the bathroom, lock the door, hop in the shower, and rub one out.

  I can’t.

  You can and you have. Many times, I might add.

  That was before. But I’m about to become a married man. I can’t. I shouldn’t. I mean, I know it’s natural, but still. Like, I know other guys probably do partake in that sort of thing, but not me. I’m getting married. It’s wrong. Well, it’s not wrong, it’s just….

  It’s just what? Five minutes of tension relief? I really don’t see the problem. Besides, if you didn’t need a little release, would I be here?

  Five minutes?

  Yes, that’s it. Maybe even less. Think of the stallion you’ll be if you get a little relief now. You’ll be able to rock that honeymoon and blow Holly’s ever-loving mind.

  Hmm, I didn’t think of it like that. That’s pretty sound advice. So, you’re saying I should do it for the sake of the honeymoon and for Holly?

  Yes, for Holly. Do it for Holly. She needs you to do this, man. She wants you to.

  She wants me to? Women are okay with this?

  Yes, they’re fine with it. They’re cool. But… uh… just don’t ever mention it to her, though.

  Do married men do… that?

  All the fucking time.

  How do you know what married men do?

  ’Cause I just do.

  Really? I run my hands through my hair.

  If it makes you feel better, you can think of Holly’s boobs the entire time.

  I do love those boobs. I miss those boobs. Those boobs are incredible. My mind wanders down her body to her other perfect curves. But… still….

  Hey, here’s a thought—I wonder if while you’re in Hawaii, she’ll give up the Aloha “A”?

  That’s it. I’m convinced.

  To the shower I go!

  MATTHEW FALLS BACK on the luxurious mattress next to me. His dark hair is mussed, and he has the slight stubble of a beard that has scratched and tickled almost every inch of my nude body.

  “I’m thirsty,” he says, regaining normal breaths.

  “I’m starving.” We’ve had nothing but room service since arriving two days ago. Our pale skin has yet to see the beautiful Hawaiian sun. “We really need to get out.” I roll over and swing my legs off the side of the bed. “I’m gonna shower first. Alone,” I add quickly. Every effort we’ve made to go explore this magnificent island has been interrupted by naked encounters. Not that I mind, but it would be nice to actually see some of this beauty surrounding us before leaving.

  Matthew covers his face with a pillow to doze, and I take advantage, sprinting naked over to the bathroom.

  One long, hot shower later, I’m dressed in s
horts and a tank, ready to go. Matthew sits up, stretching, finally ready to emerge from bed for a shower of his own. The deliciously tight muscles of his firm chest almost lure me back over. Images of our last few days tangled in the sheets flash before me. I decide the best way to avoid temptation is to get out while I can. Slipping into a pair of sandals, I grab my purse, all set to bounce.

  “I’m going to the gift shop while you shower. I’ll be back in a few.” I turn back to say goodbye just as the sheet drops from his chiseled body. I know it’s because I’m watching that he lifts his arms up and this time does a full-body stretch. Every muscle tenses, and the semi he’s sporting adds to his spectacular godlike stance. I really should be sexed out by now, but the ache in my lower stomach says otherwise. I swallow down the lust lump rising in my throat and exit the door quickly.

  Downstairs, I opt to step out of the hotel and have my choice between 4 different, yet all the same, ABC stores. I’m drawn to a rack of Hawaiian print dresses and start rummaging through them for a print that I like. A strapless off-white dress embellished with white flowers and a tie at the waist jumps out at me. I remove it from the rack and hold it up to the front of my body.

  “You can try it on.” A woman offers and points in the direction of a small curtained dressing room in the back of the store.

  I grab two different sizes, just in case, and go back to the privacy deprived room and slip into the cute white sundress. It’s adorable. I love it.

  “Are you on your honeymoon?” The woman’s voice carries over the curtain.

  “I am,” I answer proudly with a gleeful giggle. “How did you know?”

  “Most honeymooners opt for that print. I have the man’s shirt to match if you’d like.”

  A matching shirt and dress. That’s so cheesy.

  “I would definitely like that,” I say excitedly. Cheese away! Honeymooning in Hawaii is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and matching Hawaiian wear is an Instagram gold mine.