Brenda

by Lee Ellis

  “Yep. He’s getting married. I’m officially going to be an old maid. No offense.”

  “Shall I make you some tea?” matronly Maid Mary asked. Brenda nodded, and matronly Maid Mary magically made the tea instantly, because a scene where she brews the tea would be boring as shit. You’re welcome.

  “Now, you’ve known for some time this was coming, haven’t you, dearie?” Dearie is officially my new least favorite word.

  “Yeah,” Brenda sighed, “but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “No, I suppose not, dearie. But it’s not like you did anything to let this Jacob know you were sweet on him, did you?” Australians say sweet, right? It shames me as I write this to realize how little I know of Australian lingo. Though, I’m not sure the maid is actually Australian. We’ll say she is. If not, she comes from some country that does. I think England qualifies.

  “I did what I could,” Brenda protested. “Besides, it’s not like it’s my job to ask him out. That’s the man’s job. I dropped hints.”

  “Not your job? I’m sorry, dearie, I wasn’t aware it was the 1950s,” matronly Maid Mary said sarcastically. “Perhaps you should have just told him straight up how you felt. Men are dense. They need to be told, not hinted at. After all, that’s what this Lucy did, and it looks like she ended up getting what she wanted.”

  “Great. And where were you when all this was going down?”

  “Saying the exact same thing. I do, after all, have a way of being in your head, now don’t I, dearie?”

  Brenda sighed. “You do know me better than I know myself at times. Still, this isn’t a wedding I’m looking forward to. Perhaps, though, there’s one last chance for a big romantic stand.”

  Chapter 18- The Wedding.

  “Well, sir, you look wonderful,” Reginald said, straightening Jacob’s tie. It was Jacob and Lucy’s wedding day, if you need the remedial version of what’s going on.

  “Thank you, Reginald, you’ve been great on this, my, oh wait, we’ve covered that,” Jacob said.

  “So we have, sir. I still can’t believe you picked that nincompoop as your best man, however,” Reginald said, pointing his head toward Rock who had already drank his share and was sticking his face in the hors d’oeuvres. You’d think that’d be a figure of speech, and you’d be wrong. He was literally taking his face, shoving it in the hors d’oeuvres, picking it out and screaming “LANDSLIDE” with food sticking to his face. Yeah, I know, it made no sense.

  “Well, who else would you have had me go with? It’s not like we’ve really developed a whole lot of options here.”

  “That’s true, sir. We should have picked out a suitable candidate earlier and developed a decent enough relationship solely for this purpose.”

  Jacob looked at Rock, who was seeing if he could get his tongue stuck to an ice sculpture. “You’re right. Why didn’t you think of that earlier?”

  Reginald shrugged. “I never thought you’d actually be getting married, sir. I kind of expected you to die alone.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Reginald, you monkey licker.”

  “Well, sir, there was one other candidate who would have been suitable, but I didn’t think you’d be on board.”

  “Who was it, Reginald?”

  “Well, I dare not mention his name, sir, for fear you may punch me, but as a best man he would be ideal. If he managed to not overshadow the groom, that is, sir.”

  “Overshadow me? Please, Reginald, I think I’m good,” Jacob said, laughing, but growing more concerned as Reginald failed to meet his gaze. “Who is it, Reginald?”

  “Well, sir, traditionally best men are either friends…”

  “No, shit, fuckshit, that’s why I picked Rock.”

  “Or family, sir.”

  “No. No no no no no no no no no,” Jacob repeated like a two year old. “Not him. Anybody but him.”

  “I know how you feel about Richard, sir.”

  “Fucking Richard,” Jacob said.

  “Fucking Richard, sir,” Reginald corrected himself. “But, sir, it’s either that or drunkey the douchebag over there.”

  “No, Reginald,” Jacob said definitively. “It’s bad enough I let that perfect prick come in with his perfect wife from his perfect city.”

  “Detroit, sir?”

  “Yeah, Detroit, the magical city of gold, where Prince Richard lives with his unicorn wife, farming lollipops of sassafras.”

  “Sassafras, sir?”

  “Or candy corn, whatever, fuck you. What I mean to say is that I’m not letting that fucker in the ceremony. No, it’ll be Rock. He may be an idiot, but at least he won’t overshadow me.”

  Reginald looked over at Rock, who was approaching several wedding guests and attempting to get them to pull his finger. He eventually succeeded in getting a seven-year old to do so, if you’re interested. “I suppose that’s true, sir. You could have at least asked him to bring his babysitter.”

  “He did. She’s a bridesmaid. She’s with Lucy now,” Jacob said, checking his reflection in the mirror and quickly turning around. “Rock! Put down the child. Before you drop it.”

  “It’s not a child. It’s an airplane,” Rock said, spinning the kid around like, well, an airplane.

  “No, Rock, it’s a child. Now put it down before you drop it. Get over here,” Jacob called out, as Rock dropped the child. “What is that you have in your mouth?”

  “Pacifier, dude,” Rock said, taking a pacifier out of his mouth.

  “Oh, Rock, gross. You took a pacifier from the kid?”

  “No, dude. He gave it to me. It was a gift.”

  “Well, throw it out.”

  “Dude. Gift. It’d be rude not to use it.”

  “I don’t think the kid cares. Now throw it out and get over here.”

  “Stupid pacifier,” Rock said, throwing the pacifier to the ground and stepping on it despondently. “What’s the point of stealing you from a kid if I can’t even use you?”

  “Rock, focus. Now, did you make sure the comedian was here?”

  “Yeah, dude, but I still have to say that it’s unusual. Most people have a band at the wedding, or at least a DJ. Are you sure about going with a comedian in lieu of music?”

  “Rock, use your head. We can’t have music at this wedding.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I’d have to dance.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” Rock said, shrugging. “Anyway, the comedian’s here, and she’s ready.”

  “Good. Wait, she?”

  “Yeah, dude. The comedian’s a woman.”

  “Fuck. Well, the entertainment’s ruined.”

  “What, because the comedian’s a woman? Women can be funny, dude.”

  “Well, yeah, they can be,” Jacob said, straightening his tie, which at this point couldn’t be any straighter. “One question though. Is the woman Tina Fey?”

  “Um, no, dude. You didn’t get Tina Fey to perform at your wedding.”

  “Right, then she’s not funny.”

  “Come on, dude. Don’t be like that. Give this woman a chance.”

  “Whatever. We’ll see how you feel when she’s in the middle of her tenth vagina joke of the night. Because apparently the epitome of comedy these days is women talking about their vaginas. Or is it vaginae? Anyway, is there anything else I need to know about?”

  Rock shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

  “Alright, dude. I’ll see you out there.” The two embraced, and Rock took his leave.

  “You do look nice, sir,” Reginald said as Jacob made his final checks in front of his mirror.

  “Thank you, Reginald.”

  “So, sir, I suppose that after the wedding, you’ll be moving in with Ms. Fontaine?”

  “No, Reginald, I’ll be moving in with Mrs. Stanton. Well, Mrs. Fontaine-Stanton, anyway. Why?”

  “Well, it just seems, sir, with you living with Ms. Fontaine, you shouldn’t have much need of me anymore.”


  “Hmm. I never thought of that. Perhaps you’re right. What’s your point?”

  “Well, sir. I was wondering if you would like me to take my leave. You know, leave you and Ms. Fontaine to your new life together.”

  Jacob thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, Reginald, not quite yet. I think I’ll still need you.”

  After they’d played “Here comes the Groom,” or whatever the fuck it is to get the groom to the altar, Jacob stood at the altar. I mean, obviously. I was just trying to set it up, but it turns out I don’t actually know how the groom gets to the altar at a wedding. I mean, he walks, obviously, but I presume there’s some ceremony to it. He doesn’t just roll up and stand there like a jackass waiting for his bride, does he? Seriously, I don’t know. I don’t go to a lot of weddings, and the ones I do go to I don’t really pay attention. That’s probably why I don’t get invited to a lot of weddings. Basically what I’m saying is if you have a wedding, don’t invite me. I will start a food fight with the hors d’ouevres and, if I get drunk enough, I may try to have sex with the ice sculpture. Spoiler alert, I will get drunk enough and this part never ends well. It’s your own fault. Weddings are boring as shit.

  Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, so Jacob was standing at the altar with the priest, suck it David, when Wedding March started and Lucy started down the aisle.

  Oh my God. Here it goes. I can’t believe this day is finally here, Jacob thought. She looks so beautiful. At least I think she does. Can’t really tell behind that veil. Why do women wear that veil anyway? Is it so I’m surprised by her face? Because I know what she looks like. And why don’t I get a veil? I want a veil so I can surprise her with how beautiful I look. Then we could get her down the aisle, everything’s all serious and what not, then I pop off the veil and boom. Face tattoo. That’ll show her.

  Lucy walked up the altar with her father, beaming with only the joy that a pointless ceremony initiating a short honeymoon phase, followed by the increasing monotony of everyday life and an inevitable divorce battle can bring. Wow. She looks so beautiful. At least, that’s what I’ll tell her later. She actually looks pretty much exactly the same as she always does, only with all that makeup she’s considerably more porcelain-doll like. Sigh. We’re so in love, if ‘in love’ were redefined to mean ‘settling for each other’. Maybe she loves me. She always did have a stupid streak.

  When everyone was in place, the priest took his place and began to read the vows, or whatever the fuck you call them. You know what I’m talking about. Tee hee. A priest. It’s the only thing I actually insisted on in this whole stupid ceremony. I bet David’s having a conniption right now. What is a conniption anyway? It seems like something I should know, but I’ve only heard it in that context, so I’m not sure. Maybe it’s like a heart attack. I hope it’s a heart attack. David having a heart attack would be the best wedding present ever. Better than that vegan toaster he got me. Prick.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sign of God,” the priest began, because that’s what priests say at weddings. You know the drill. Even if you’re like me and don’t go to many, you’ve seen enough movies to know what’s going on. Here we go. Finally, let’s get this show on the road so I can get drunk and then marriage laid.

  “To join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” the priest continued. Man, this is boring. He keeps using all these big, priestly words. I wonder if I’m actually supposed to be listening or paying attention during this part. Do most people pay attention for this? I always assumed people just kind of zone out for this part and then say “I do,” at the end, sort of like clicking agree at the end of the user agreement for computer stuff.

  “Into this estate these two persons present now come to be joined,” the priest said. Well, I mean recited. It’s not like he made it up or anything. Seriously, maybe we should have had him come up with something original. I mean, if we’re going to pay the guy, he ought to do a bit more than show up, recite some shit he’s recited a thousand times before, eat our food, and sprinkle us with holy water. They use holy water in these things, right? Because I have this whole “melting” joke that I really think is going to kill Lucy’s grandfather. I mean literally, I’m hoping it will give him a heart attack. Every bit closer to her inheritance, the better.

  “If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together—let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” the priest said, delivering his ultimatum. Seriously, who was this prick to be laying down take it or leave it propositions? Anyway, it was met with silence, because, seriously, who the hell was going to speak up at a wedding like that? Nothing? Well, I guess that’s good. I mean, you can’t expect life to end like a fairy tale, now can you. Now all that’s left is to click.

  “I do,” said Jacob.

  “You do what?” asked the priest.

  “I do, I do. You know. The thing. The thing we’re doing. That we’re here for.”

  “Um, I’m not done yet, son.”

  “Oh, really? Sorry, dude, carry on.”

  “Marriage is the union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind,” the priest continued. What the hell? I thought the ‘speak now’ part was the end. There’s more to this? Since fucking when? I can’t believe this guy is still talking. This is the last time I get a priest for a wedding. They’re too verbose. Next wedding, I’m hiring a silent monk.

  Lucy does look beautiful, though, I do have to admit, thought Jacob, acting like a cliché. And a pussy. A pussy cliché. Fuck off. So I’m a little in love at my wedding. Is that so bad? The woman I’m marrying is absolutely beautiful. Especially when she cocks her head like that and gets that nervous, awkward smile on her face. And that concerned look she has on now is incredibly hot. Oh my god, is that creepy? I feel like a rapist saying that. Still, I’m so in love, it’s like the rest of the world has gone silent and she’s all there is in the universe.

  The priest cleared his throat loudly and stared at Jacob.

  “Do you need a cough drop, Father?” Jacob asked.

  “And do you, Jacob Stanton, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the priest asked, loudly and sternly.

  “I do. I do, Jesus Christ. Calm down, Father, you don’t have to shout.”

  “Well, son, apparently I do. I’ve asked you that question three times, and you didn’t respond. It’s like you weren’t even paying attention.”

  “Well, Father, you have to admit, the whole thing is kind of long, boring and lame. And you have the most pleasant Irish brogue. It put me right to sleep.”

  “I was born and raised in South Carolina, son.”

  “Must have gotten it from your parents.”

  “They were from Chicago.”

  “They must have gotten it from their parents then. Jesus fuck, Father, stop breaking my balls.”

  “My grandparents were Polish.”

  “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?”

  “Father Baranoski? I feel like you could have put that one together.”

  “What am I, an ethno-nameo-ologist?”

  “Damn it, Jacob, just let it go,” Lucy muttered under her breath.

  Father Baranoski sighed. “You may now kiss the bride.”

  “You may now kiss my ass,” Jacob muttered under his breath as he kissed Lucy. Somewhere, a nun readied her yardstick, or at least she would have if the Catholic Church hadn’t turned into a bunch of pussies who won’t even hit children anymore. Seriously, what’s the point of even having a religion if they won’t beat your kids for you? To teach them compassion? Fuck that. Religion’s purpose is to make people believe ridiculous shit so that they learn to accept what they’re told because people are too dumb to think for themselves.

  “How was the wedding, dearie?” matronly Maid Mary asked as Brenda walked back through the front door of her apartment.

  “Fuck you, Mary,” Brenda said, Australian accentedly. “It sucked. Like everything. Like you. You suck, Mary. Eve
ryone sucks. I hate people.”

  “I take it your grand romantic gesture didn’t go according to plan, dearie?”

  “There was no grand romantic gesture,” Brenda said, sighing. “It was no use. What’s done is done.”

  “That’s a very mature view, dearie. If it’s any consolation, I think you made the right call,” matronly Maid Mary said with a stupid look on her face.

  “I guess, but it’s still disappointing. Wait, seriously? Did you just make a maid pun?”

  “Oh, I did, I did,” Maid Mary, who was rather matronly, said gleefully, clapping her hands in delight and bouncing up and down. “See, your matronly maid can be funny too.”

  “Seriously, at this point? It’s not even that funny a joke.”

  “I’m just trying to cheer you up, dearie.”

  “Thanks, I guess. I think I just want to be alone for a while.”

  “Alright, dearie. I’ll shut off your phone,” Maid Mary said, taking a seat next to Brenda. “So, you want to tell me what happened now, dearie?”

  Brenda shrugged. “Nothing. I went, and it got to that part in the ceremony, and well, it just didn’t seem right. I mean, who actually pulls stunts like that?”

  “I don’t know, dearie, but they do say fortune favors the bold.”

  “Yeah and the bold also are the ones everybody’s laughing at behind their backs for all the stupid shit they pull. Besides, Lucy’s a friend, and there were a bunch of people I work with there. It was too much of a risk."

  “If you say so, dearie,” said Maid Mary, knitting now, because that seems like something she’d be doing in this situation. “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “Nothing, I guess. I mean, I missed the boat on this one. I guess wait around for somebody new to come along.”

  “And when they come along, you’ll chicken out again and miss the boat on them, won’t you dearie?”

  “Yeah, probably. Then I’ll end up an old maid.”

  Maid Mary put down her knitting, uh, knitters I guess, and put her hands on her hips, giving Brenda that harrumph look. “And what’s wrong with being an old maid, may I ask?”