At the Wedding

by Matt Dunn

  ‘You don’t have a cat.’

  ‘For precisely that reason,’ laughed Rachel. ‘And I love cats.’

  Livia glanced across at her, relieved her friend was back to making jokes. ‘Why did you stay with him for so long, if things weren’t great?’

  ‘Because there were times when they were. He could be charming, and sweet – when he could be bothered – and funny, and daft, and a gentleman, and not that demanding – which sometimes is a real bonus – and he had a good job, and a nice car, and his mates all seemed decent . . .’ Rachel shrugged her shoulders exaggeratedly. ‘I guess it was like when you binge-watch a box set, and halfway through Season Two you realise that while it’s not actually the best thing you’ve ever watched, and you’re not, you know . . .’

  ‘Engaged?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Rachel gave her a brief smile. ‘You’ve invested all this time in it, so you kind of feel duty-bound to keep going. To see what the ending’s like. Or if it gets better.’

  Livia gave her a look. ‘Rachel, you’re a beautiful girl. You shouldn’t feel like that. Any man would be lucky to have you.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Rachel wasn’t sounding convinced, though Livia suspected that was just the post-dumping blues talking. ‘I’ve just never felt it, you know?’

  ‘Felt what?’

  ‘Love.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘Unless I’ve just missed the signs. Though I’m not sure I know what they are any more.’

  ‘You’ve never been in love.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Livia laughed again. ‘You’d know if you had. Believe me.’

  ‘I mean, I’ve had relationships that, when they’ve ended . . . I’ve kind of missed the relationship rather than the person themselves. I just hope I never get to the point where I really can’t be bothered to do the whole thing again.’

  ‘Maybe you’re trying too hard.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Maybe you should just . . . let it happen.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  Livia nodded. ‘Hey – I realise I was lucky with Jed, even though I had to come all the way to Barcelona to meet him, and yes, I was thinking I was the one who was in danger of being left on the shelf, even all those years ago. He was here for the football. Barcelona were playing . . .’ Livia frowned. ‘Well, I can’t remember who it was. But he’d stupidly assumed he could come here and buy tickets just like that, and when he found out they were all sold out, he ended up watching the game in the bar we were in and . . . it’s a long story, and it involves a lot of cocktails, and . . .’

  ‘You dancing on a table?’

  ‘I’ve told you?’

  ‘Once or twice. Usually when you’re drunk.’

  Livia smiled wistfully. ‘Anyway, my point is, sometimes you find love in the strangest of places. Especially when you’re not looking for it.’

  ‘But I’m always looking for it. And then, even when I do bump into someone who maybe I could, conceivably, fall in love with . . .’

  Livia stared at her. Rachel was pretending to be fascinated by the poolside bar’s laminated drinks menu. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Come on. Spill.’

  ‘This afternoon. When I was out sightseeing. I . . . met someone.’

  ‘Met someone?’

  ‘Well, I got robbed and . . .’

  ‘You fancied your robber? I know they say that bad boys—’

  ‘No! He – Jay – rescued me. Got my phone back. So I bought him lunch to say thank you. And one thing led to another.’

  Livia narrowed her eyes. ‘So, by “met”, you mean . . . ?’

  Rachel nodded, and made a guilty face. ‘Twice,’ she said, and Livia couldn’t prevent her jaw from gaping open.

  ‘Rach!’

  ‘I know. I didn’t know I had it in me.’

  ‘If you’ll excuse the phrase! Where?’

  ‘At his flat.’

  Livia widened her eyes in admiration. ‘And?’

  ‘There is no and. He lives here, I live in England. Long-distance relationships don’t work.’

  ‘Out of interest, have you ever had one?’

  ‘Well, no, but—’

  ‘So how do you know they don’t?’ Livia leant in conspiratorially. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to tell. It was a fling, that’s all. Though between you and me, I did consider asking him if he wanted to come tonight.’

  ‘That’s . . . Rich.’

  Rachel laughed. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was appropriate either, so I didn’t in the end, although to be honest, right now, I’m rather regretting—’

  ‘No.’ Livia put a hand on the top of her friend’s head, and swivelled it round so Rachel could see who had just appeared at the other end of the pool and was now grinning sheepishly at the two of them. ‘Over there. That’s Rich!’

  Surprised by the sound of what he assumed must be a lawnmower outside – an odd thing to hear on a pedestrian street in the middle of the city – Jed turned and peered out of the bar’s window, just in time to see Patrick manoeuvring a small, yellow three-wheeler into the nearest parking space. For a moment he considered hiding, but that would be childish, and besides, if Patrick had managed to find the bar he was in in a city with this many bars, then finding him in the bar probably wouldn’t be that hard.

  In any case, he could do with someone to talk to. He’d been sitting here for what seemed like an age, and he still hadn’t come to any conclusions as to what on earth he was going to do. Or managed to get through more than half a glass of Estrella – though that was possibly a good thing. He raised his eyebrows in a silent greeting as Patrick made his way inside and climbed up onto the adjacent stool, then resumed staring miserably into his beer.

  ‘Aha.’ Patrick smiled wistfully. ‘The eternal question.’

  ‘Huh?’

  He tapped his index finger on the bar in front of Jed’s glass. ‘Is it half full, or half empty?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to decide.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Jury’s still out, I’m afraid.’

  Patrick glanced at his watch, not so subtly that Jed didn’t get the message, then he gazed around the bar’s interior. ‘Well, this place hasn’t changed much in ten years.’

  ‘I just wish it wasn’t the only thing.’

  ‘Tempus fugit?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s what it’s called.’

  ‘No, that’s Latin for “time flies” . . .’ Patrick spotted the look Jed was giving him, and laughed. ‘Ha. Yes. Very good. Well, at least you’ve still got your sense of humour.’

  ‘Only just.’

  ‘Even so.’ He clapped Jed on the shoulder. ‘Thought I might find you here.’

  Jed sighed. ‘Sent you to get me, has she?’

  Patrick nodded at the barman to get his attention. ‘No, actually. Livia doesn’t know you’ve gone AWOL. We – Liam and I – were getting a bit worried. So I just thought I’d come and see if you were okay.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘So at the risk of asking a question I can probably guess the answer to, are you?’

  Jed had picked up his beer bottle and started to top up his glass, then – seeing how much his hands were shaking – put it straight back down again. ‘I don’t think I can go through with it, Patrick.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s just . . .’ Jed slumped down onto the bar. ‘Not how I expected things to go,’ he said, miserably.

  The barman had just appeared in front of them, so Patrick pointed at Jed’s beer and made the ‘two’ sign. ‘Isn’t that the whole point of a surprise wedding?’

  ‘I don’t mean the ceremony part. That’s exactly what I’d expect – Livia’s organised the whole thing with military precision. It’s the assumption that I’ll just go along with it all.’ Jed drained the rest of his beer in one, grimacing at the fact it was now room t
emperature. ‘She packed me a tie, you know. I haven’t worn a tie for ten years. Why should I suddenly put one on now?’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t have to—’

  ‘I don’t just mean the tie. It’s symbolic. Not one part of this have I had any say in.’ He hauled himself upright, stared helplessly at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, then looked away, unable even to meet his own gaze. ‘It’s just not right.’

  ‘Have you said anything to her? Told her how you feel?’

  Jed gave him a look. ‘Oh, sure. A couple of hours before a wedding she’s spent I don’t know how long planning behind my back, I march up to her and say, “Hey, Liv, I’ve got a few thoughts about how today should go, the main one being – it shouldn’t.” I can really see that going down well!’ He reached up and scratched the top of his head agitatedly. ‘I get that being married is important to her, but doing it like this?’

  ‘Maybe she thought you might like a surprise.’

  ‘A surprise is giving someone what they want when they’re not expecting it. This? It’s been an ambush, from start to finish. And you shouldn’t have to do that to get the person you love to marry you.’

  ‘No,’ said Patrick, nodding his thanks to the barman, who’d just deposited two bottles of Estrella in front of them. ‘You shouldn’t.’

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘By which I mean, why did she have to?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why did Livia have to go to these lengths?’

  ‘You’re saying it’s my fault?’

  ‘Well, “fault” is a strong word . . .’ Patrick grinned. ‘You’ve been together for what? Ten years?’

  ‘To the day.’

  ‘And seeing as you never proposed, can you blame her for taking matters into her own—’

  ‘Hers wasn’t a proposal. It was an ultimatum.’

  ‘It’s still her right, though.’

  ‘Why? It’s not a leap year.’

  ‘No, but it is 2018. It may have passed people like your brother by, but women have the vote now. And what are you so put out about anyway? That she beat you to it? That she put you on the spot? That she picked your clothes?’

  ‘No, it’s just . . .’ Jed waved his hands around again. ‘Everything. Doing it here.’ He thought for a moment. ‘No stag do.’

  ‘Hang on. You didn’t care about getting married but Livia does, and now you’re finding fault with her arrangements?’

  ‘Yeah, I know how that sounds, but . . . remember last year, when she bought me that watch for my birthday?’

  ‘The one you made her take back?’

  ‘It was a Rolex. Gold. Really quite something. If you like that kind of thing.’

  ‘Which you evidently don’t?’

  ‘That’s not the point. It’s just . . . a watch like that, it’s going to last you the rest of your life, isn’t it? You’re going to be wearing it a lot. Looking at it all the time. And if that’s the case . . . I’d just have liked to have been involved in choosing it, that’s all.’

  Patrick frowned. ‘So, I’m confused. Is it the fact that you’re getting married, the fact that you’re getting married here, the fact that you’re only getting married because Livia asked you, or the fact that you’re getting married the way Livia’s choosing?’

  ‘All of it.’ Jed sighed, conscious he probably sounded like he was inventing excuses. But the alternative would be to admit to Patrick the one thing he couldn’t do anything about. ‘You know what I’m like.’

  ‘And so does Livia. Which is probably why she thought you needed a nudge.’

  ‘But that’s my point. This isn’t a nudge. It’s a full-on, both-hands shove. And into the back of a waiting kidnapper’s van, with its engine running, “Married Life” written on the side and a full tank of petrol . . .’

  ‘Okay, okay!’ Patrick smiled. ‘So, were you thinking of splitting up? Leaving her? Finding someone else?’

  ‘What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? Of course not!’

  ‘So what’s going to change?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Once you’re married. What difference will it make?’

  ‘To me? Or to Livia?’

  ‘To you, dummy.’

  Jed thought for a moment. Then a moment longer.

  ‘Exactly. Bugger all. You don’t have to change your surname. You won’t be going from a Ms to a Mrs. Fundamentally, all this means is that you and your friends are going to have a great party here in this wonderful city, you’ll make the woman you love incredibly happy, you won’t start feeling awkward at describing her as your partner or even girlfriend – which, trust me, starts to sound pretty weird the older you get – and your child won’t have to face any awkward questions at school as to why Mummy and Daddy have different surnames. And, despite all of that, you won’t feel any different afterwards. So, I’ll ask again – what’s going to change?’

  ‘I might,’ said Jed, softly.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘My dad . . . He always told me my mum tricked him into getting married, by getting pregnant with me. And he resented the hell out of her for it. Got his own back by cheating on her. A lot. And rubbing her face in it.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So what if that’s me?’

  ‘Why is it likely to be?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was – is – a real . . .’ Jed struggled to find the right word. ‘Loser, Patrick. And I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be like him, but sometimes . . . history repeats itself, doesn’t it?’

  Patrick swallowed a mouthful of beer and regarded Jed levelly. ‘You know Sarah cheated on me, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Everyone knew. Except for me. Until it was too late. If I’d realised how unhappy she was, I could have prevented . . .’ He stopped talking, and gulped down another mouthful. ‘Anyway, the point is, forewarned is forearmed. You two are in love. Livia really wanted you to marry her, probably would have loved for you to ask her, and for some reason you missed that. And if you ask me, you’re lucky that this is the way she’s dealing with it.’

  Jed stared at him. On some level he knew Patrick probably had a point, but he didn’t want to admit it – and besides, it didn’t make what she’d done right. ‘Maybe,’ he said, then he sat up straighter and patted the bar affectionately. ‘This is where we met, you know?’

  ‘I’m flattered you remember.’

  ‘Me and Livia,’ said Jed, then he realised Patrick had been joking. ‘Yes, very good.’

  Patrick raised and lowered his eyebrows in a ‘gotcha!’ kind of way. ‘We were here on a work trip. Team-bonding session. Who’d have thought she’d have ended up bonding with you?’

  Jed ignored the insult. ‘She was dancing on one of the tables.’

  Patrick smiled fondly at the memory. ‘I still have the photos. She was very drunk. Probably why she agreed to go out with you in the first place.’

  ‘Ha bloody ha!’ Jed picked his beer up, then he put it back down again. ‘It was all going along just fine, then we decided we’d start a family, and almost straight away she got, you know . . .’ He mimed a pregnant stomach. ‘And don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy about that, but I’d just about got used to the idea, then all of a sudden this happens . . .’ Jed put his head in his hands. ‘Patrick, you’ve been married.’

  ‘“Been” being the operative word.’

  ‘And that’s exactly my point. Married people . . . you’ve always got that divorce thing looming on the horizon, haven’t you? Whereas couples who aren’t married stay together because they want to be together. Not because they’ve signed a contract.’

  ‘It’s not exactly a contract.’

  ‘Well, that’s how it feels. Like I’m signing my life away. Betting half of everything I own that Liv and I are going to stay together.’

  ‘It’s Livia’s place you live in, right?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Jed, exasperatedly. ‘I just always thought Livia was diffe
rent. That we’d be different. That people who got married only did it because they’d run out of ideas.’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Present company excepted. We were full of ideas. No children. No ties. We could just please ourselves. Go where we wanted. Do what we wanted. Live how we wanted. And I thought Livia wanted that too. But it turns out she’s just as conventional as the rest of them.’

  ‘Doesn’t look like that to me.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Jed. ‘But marriage, motherhood . . . it changes people, doesn’t it.’

  ‘People change anyway. It’s called getting older. It comes with the territory. And that’s not necessarily down to being married. And the way I see it, you’ve got two options.’

  ‘And they are?’

  ‘Just go with it . . .’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Same answer, except remove the “with it”.’ Patrick smiled. ‘When was the last time Livia danced on a table, do you think?’

  Jed let out a short laugh. ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘And do you think she’d still like to?’

  ‘She’d be worried she’d fall off! And don’t get me wrong – I love her to bits. But I never thought I’d end up with someone who’d worry about things like that.’

  ‘Okay. Well, tell me something. When was the last time you got up and danced on a table?’

  Jed stared at him for a moment, then returned his gaze to his beer. ‘You’re too good at this, you know?’

  ‘Only because I already have the scars.’ Patrick folded his arms and leant heavily on the bar. ‘Listen, Jed. I’m the last person to be a cheerleader for marriage after how mine ended up. But I’m a huge fan of Livia. And like it or not, there comes a time when we have to save dancing on tables just for special occasions. It might not be nice to hear, but it’s a fact. And if marrying Livia is what it takes to keep her – even just to make her happy – then if I were in your shoes, I know what I’d do.’

  ‘But marriage just doesn’t mean that much to me.’

  ‘Then what’s the big deal?’

  Jed frowned at him. ‘I can kind of see the logic in that statement, but it doesn’t stop it from being wrong.’

  ‘Okay, think of it another way. It might not be a big deal to you, but it’s obviously a big deal to Livia, and just look at the lengths she’s gone to try to make it one for you. I mean, how many of your other friends’ partners have hijacked an anniversary weekend in their favourite city, proposed to them and arranged a surprise wedding, all without you having to lift a finger, or get involved in the arrangements, or spend weekend after weekend choosing venues and menus . . . ? In my mind, that still makes you the different ones. And it’s a hell of a story for the grandkids . . .’ Patrick laughed. ‘Your face!’ he said, nudging Jed playfully. ‘You might worry you’re doing the same as everyone else, but it doesn’t mean you can’t do it differently, does it?’