by Lucy Vine
The dancing is immense but I’m too distracted to truly enjoy it. I’m watching in a trance from the sidelines of the dance floor, as the array of beautiful colours fly in every direction. A few feet away, Joely is dancing like a madwoman with some guy, who leans in and whispers something in her ear. She shrieks with laughter and then shakes her head, striding away in my direction without another word.
She joins me and I say, ‘He seems nice,’ nodding at the forlorn-looking man she’s abandoned.
‘Oh, him?’ she says. ‘He’s dreadful. He looks like a White Walker with a pinky ring. I am less than zero interested in him. Negative interested. Do you know what he just said to me? I asked him for dancing tips and he said, “I’ll give you a tip, babe – my penis tip!”’ She laughs and adds, ‘Don’t you think that’s hilarious? I mean hilarious in a bad way. Men are just so interesting. Did he really think that would work? What was I going to say? “Sounds great – show me to the nearest floor space for the sex”. And only his tip? What about the rest? Does he not know how sex works? His poor previous girlfriends. Or maybe he’s never had any. I can’t imagine many girls putting up with just a tip for very long.’
I laugh with her but I’m distracted. She takes my drink from out of my hand, taking a long sip through the straw, before handing it back. What’s mine is hers full stop, and I like it.
‘Where’s Lauren?’ I say, looking around a little anxiously. I’m worried about her. After the service, she shot off, muttering something about needing the loo and I haven’t seen her since. The line can’t be that long. Well, I mean, obviously it can be that long because it always is with the ladies, but I’m pretty sure there’s more to it than that.
I can tell she’s angry with me. I shouldn’t have said that stuff about marriage – that was really dumb and insensitive. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. She didn’t need to know about Will’s half proposal. Now she’ll think I’m trying to steal her thunder, or her limelight, and it’s very important no one steals any of those things from Lauren.
Joely sways to the music. ‘Last time I saw her she was talking the bride’s ear off about flower arrangements,’ she says disinterestedly. ‘She seemed fine, don’t worry about her. Hopefully she stays over there, because I’m really at my shit-eating limit with her wedding babble. I really am.’ She leans in for another sip from my straw, before continuing: ‘Jesus, it started before we even got here today. She rang me at four this morning in a panic about whether she should let children come along to the day part of her ceremony. Like I give any kind of a shit. Did she not call you too?’
I think guiltily about how I’ve started putting my phone on silent at night, and the three missed calls I woke up to today.
Joely growls with frustration. ‘She told everyone there would be no kids allowed at the service but a few of our relatives have gone mental about it. They were ringing her up all day yesterday to shout at her that she has to make an exception just for their children. They’re acting as if it’s their big day and they have a say. I know it’s rubbish for her to deal with and must be a massive burden or whatever, but this is her wedding and I’ve heard her moan enough about it for ten lifetimes! It really isn’t my problem. Lauren wants to get married on short notice, and also have the biggest, fanciest, most pretentious event ever, so she has to deal with the consequences. I told her it was a terrible idea to do this in six months and she should’ve given herself longer, but she never listens to anyone but herself. She thinks she can do anything she likes just because she’s the bride, and we’re expected to follow her around picking up the slack. Fuck the bride. She should just tell our idiot relatives no if she doesn’t want their kids there! Why is that so hard? She loves saying no to us; why can’t she say it loud and proud to bitchy Aunt Martha? And either way, I don’t want to hear any more about it, you know? She’s taking over my life. Everything in my life is suddenly about weddings and I’m not even getting married. Before all this, I was quite close to becoming a two-naps-a-day person, did you know that? That is the dream, the absolute dream, and now I don’t even get one proper nap because she’ll wake me up with some inane problem.’
I nod awkwardly. Naps are important.
She goes on: ‘I haven’t even had time to do my blog properly over the last few weeks because I’ve been so distracted. My fake boyfriend dumped me because I kept missing our set-up dates. I’ve had to settle for some Big Brother star from 2010 for my next publicity relationship. My followers keep asking if something’s wrong and one girl commented on my last photo that I looked like I hadn’t slept in a month! I’m going to start losing followers soon, just because Lauren’s too self-obsessed to see that no one gives a shit about her wedding. I’m over it, Lil, totally bored of it. She’s acting like she’s the first person to ever get married. Newsflash, dickhead, everyone does it and no one cares! As if anyone’s interested in table plans. Just fuck off already, Lauren.’
A voice full of ice cuts through the middle of us, from behind. ‘Well, it’s good to know what you actually think.’ Joely and I whip around as one, and Lauren is standing there, red-faced and completely, absolutely, totally furious.
Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no.
‘Lauren, it wasn’t . . .’ I begin, horror filling me as I try to count up the many terrible, destructive words she just overheard. Oh God, what did she see me doing? What was I doing? Nodding? Agreeing? I can’t think – I was on autopilot. How was I reacting? How many supportive noises did I make while Joely was talking? Shit.
Lauren immediately stops me before I can say anything else, holding up a hand to my face. She’s shaking with rage. ‘Don’t even bother, Lilah,’ she snaps. ‘I heard everything she said, I know exactly how she feels now. I suspected as much, and now I know. She’s a spoilt princess and I’m sick of her selfish nastiness. She thinks the whole world revolves around her and it doesn’t. She’s just a fucking blogger – it’s not even a real job – and she thinks it makes her better than us and too good to help her friends. But it doesn’t, it makes her a pathetic, sad bitch, and everyone is laughing at her.’
Joely’s shocked mouth snaps shut and she is suddenly just as angry as Lauren. ‘You know what?’ she spits, standing up straight to her full six-foot height, and towering over her averagely sized cousin. ‘I’m not even sorry you heard all that, Lauren, because it’s high time you got some home truths. I’m the princess? I’ve never known anyone with such a princess complex. You’ve been such a nightmare these last few months and I’m so sick of all your irrational demands. Everyone is. Do you even hear yourself sometimes? It’s about time someone told you to cut it out. We are not your wedding slaves and we are not your hen do minions.’ She turns to me. ‘Lilah, did I even tell you that this cow told me to lose weight for the wedding?’
Lauren takes a step towards us. ‘That’s bullshit, Joely, and you know it. I was pissed off that you’d put on weight just before the bridesmaid fittings, and I made the smallest, tiniest little comment about you dropping a few of the kebabs on occasion so you could get into the dress. Believe me, I was seriously holding back, you have no idea. You think you’ve been restrained over the last few months – I’m the one who’s had to hold my tongue. You’re so rude and unhelpful. You seem to go out of your way to make me feel shit about asking for help, even though you know full well I’m dealing with all of this on my own. I haven’t even asked for that much but you have deliberately looked bored and been useless at every single one of our wedding meetings. You haven’t even had the decency to bother trying to disguise it. It’s pathetic. This is my wedding, Joely. The biggest, most important moment of my life, and you’re meant to care about that and be there for me. Not just as my bridesmaid and one of my best friends, but as my cousin too. You’re family – you’re supposed to be there for me.
But no. No, because it’s not all about you and your stupid cocking Instagram profile and stupid wanking blog, you can’t even pretend to care, can you? You are unbelievable.’
Joely throws her head back and laughs sarcastically. ‘Oh, Lauren. This is incredible. You are the most self-obsessed, un-self-aware person in the entire universe. I had no idea how badly you’ve climbed up inside your perfectly bleached bum hole! I can’t believe you actually just said all those things out loud. You have been demanding our full attention every waking moment for months now. No one’s allowed to talk about anything else. We can’t even go for a drink together anymore – it has to be a stupid wedding meeting. Have you asked me anything about my life lately, Lauren? Can you think of even one moment you’ve considered doing that since May? Do you know anything about how I am? Do you know, for example, that I got dumped recently? Because I can’t remember you asking even once. Yes, your wedding is important. Lordy, do we know it’s important. But it’s not THIS important. It’s not meant to require your friends giving up their entire lives for you for months on end. That is absolutely insane. And Lilah feels the same, don’t you, Lilah?’
Uh-oh. I have been watching their shouting match get louder and louder, and nastier and nastier, with growing terror. I knew I was going to be dragged in at any moment, and as they both turn to face me now, panting with anger, I just stand there, frozen, with my mouth hanging open. I am a rabbit caught in headlights, as the oncoming furious, unstoppable traffic thunders towards me.
Lauren turns back to Joely when I don’t answer. ‘Don’t try to bring Lilah into this, you bag of shit,’ she screams. ‘She loves helping me, she’s not an unhelpful, resentful bitch like you. And she’s MY best friend, not yours, so if you think she’s going to take your side over mine, you have reached a new level of absolute dumb. You’ve been trying to steal her off me for years, and especially lately, but you can just back off. You’re only part of this group because we feel sorry for you, you stupid whore. We don’t even want you as our friend, do we, Lilah?’
I whimper and Joely laughs spitefully. ‘She is not your lemming, Lauren. She has her own opinions, her own life. Look at what you do to her, she can’t even speak. Look – she was even too scared to tell you Will proposed to her because she knows you’ll lose your shit about her getting more attention than you for one second. Can’t have that, can we? A huge, massive moment in her life and she didn’t tell you. What does that say about you? I know that Lilah’s sick of you, just like I am. Come on, Lilah, tell her the truth for once – tell her you’re sick of it.’
I have no idea what to say, so I stand there looking from one to the other.
‘Lilah?’ Lauren says impatiently.
Joely crosses her arms, bright red and livid. Her perfect, lovely features are contorted with fury. ‘Lilah?’ she snarls like an echo.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ I reply eventually in a small voice. I really don’t. I don’t agree with anything they’ve said, but then I also agree with all of it. They’re both wrong and they’re both right. And I know nothing I could say right now would make either of them happy.
Joely rolls her eyes angrily when the silence stretches on. ‘Right, OK, Lilah, maybe you are Lauren’s lemming after all. You’re too chicken to actually say what you think. But I know you’re sick of her behaviour too. I know you are. You’ve been on the receiving end of her demanding nonsense even worse than me and I’m close to murdering my whole family just to escape her.’ Joely glares at me, as Lauren starts in on me too.
‘Lilah, tell her you don’t feel like that. Tell her right now. I’m serious, Lilah, tell her to sod off and that I haven’t been demanding too much of you.’
I am breathing so hard, my whole body is hot and sweaty. I blink rapidly and swallow down tears. I know I am close to full-on bursting into sobs and I know this would be the wrong moment to do so. They’re waiting, both staring at me with hate-filled expressions and still I say nothing.
‘Screw this,’ mutters Joely. ‘I’m sick of it. I’m leaving. I have better things to do than deal with you two. Don’t call me, don’t text me – either of you. I can’t deal with your demanding shit –’ she points at Lauren – ‘and I can’t deal with your cowardly shit.’ She points at me and then she turns on her heel and storms out.
Lauren turns to me. ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, Lilah, but I’m sick of it too. You’re meant to be my best friend. I have always had your back, always stood up for you and protected you, but you couldn’t do it for me even once today. You’ve clearly been slagging me off behind my back with her, and lying to me about stuff with Will. Why wouldn’t you tell me that he proposed to you? Do you actually think I’m that much of a monster to have been annoyed? I would’ve been thrilled for you! But you decided to hide it, act like I’m some unbearable ego villain, and then surprise us with it today, months later, when I’m more stressed out than I’ve ever been in my life. Did you say no because of me? Did you? Because I never asked you to do anything like that, I never would. I would’ve been happy for you if it’s what you wanted. Well, thanks so much, Lilah, now I know how you really see me.’ She pauses, and my mouth opens and shuts. She goes on, and her voice is sad and hateful. ‘You know what? I don’t need your help with the wedding anymore. You clearly don’t want to help and I don’t need you. You’re no longer my maid of honour. I thought you were my best friend, and I thought you’d be happy about being included in my special day, but clearly you’re as ungrateful and selfish as Joely. Just . . . forget it. Delete my number.’ She grabs her handbag furiously, and, after giving me one more awful, murderous look, she leaves too.
Wedding Number Ten: Aakifah and Talal, The Granary Estate, Isle of Anglesey
Theme: Garden party, which apparently means loads of elderly people holding teacups in a large marquee.
Menu: Smoked salmon starter, followed by chicken and a meringue dessert. Veggie option: stuffed red pepper with goat’s cheese.
Gift: Honeymoon vouchers, because who really cares at this point @ £50.
Gossip: A very drunk pair of groomsmen stole all the disposable cameras from the tables and did an extensive genital-based photoshoot in the loos. Word is that the bride’s dad later collected them all up to have the pics developed and made into a special album for his baby girl.
My bank balance: -£1112.12
16
‘Siri,’ I breathe out slowly, ‘what am I going to do with my life?’
The cool, disinterested voice replies immediately: ‘I didn’t find any events about “life” in the next three months, Lilah.’
Oh thanks, Siri, you shady fucking bitch.
I try another question, desperate for some validation. ‘Siri, is it OK to drink, like, a lot of alcohol, alone on a Sunday morning when my boyfriend is out at the gym again, I’m hungover from another lonely wedding where I knew no one, and I’m generally having a really bad time?’
Her reply is distant and disapproving. ‘Here’s what I found on the web for that, Lilah.’
The worldwide web, it appears, thinks it’s probably not a good start to a Sunday and I close the booze cupboard reluctantly. I can’t even get any warmth or comfort from my phone, and it knows me better than anyone.
I go for a wee and sit on the loo, drip-drying and thinking sadly about what is going on with my life.
It’s been a week since Lauren and Joely stormed out of that wedding, leaving me high and dry – except not dry at all, because obviously I cried loads like the loser sap I am. After they left, I stood there awkwardly for ten minutes, my mind blank. I was probably in shock, still clinging on to my melting drink while I tried to process what had just happened and what I should do. I was peripherally aware that a few people nearby were staring at me – understandable, given all the shouting – so I got out my phone and pretended to laugh at a couple of text messages. But then I lost it because I saw a t
ext from Lauren, sent hours before, innocuously asking what I was wearing to the wedding and telling me she was bringing fabric samples along for my maid of honour dress.
That’s when I ran out the building, barely holding it together. I couldn’t stop replaying the argument over and over in my head. Going through what I should or could have said to calm the explosion. I’m still wondering that now, as I climb back into my cold, empty-of-Will bed, without any Sunday morning booze to warm me up. Whose side was I supposed to take? What could I have done to stop the horrible outpouring at each other – and at me? A woman in the car park outside the wedding asked me if I was OK, and should she call someone for me. I assume she thought I was drunk (which I was), and I kept shaking my head, tears pouring down my face, and thinking that the people I needed her to call for me were the ones who’d just stormed off and abandoned me there. The person I was going through all this shit for was the one who’d just screamed at me and left. It didn’t feel like the right time to reach out to Will to come get me – not after so much silence between us – and I knew my brother wouldn’t even answer his phone.