The Importance of Being Married: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  “You want me to…” I looked at him uncertainly.

  “To walk down the aisle, that’s right,” Roger said encouragingly.

  “Down the aisle.” I nodded and walked toward the door. I wished Helen were here now for me to cling to. Wished the altar weren’t quite so far away. Taking a deep breath, I started to walk, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, slowly, unsteadily. Max was facing the front of the chapel; from the back, he could have been Anthony. Tomorrow it would be Anthony, I thought to myself, and felt my hands go clammy.

  And then he turned around, and our eyes met, and he grinned reassuringly at me, and suddenly it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore. So I carried on walking, and soon I was standing next to him and Roger was saying, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” and I found myself thinking that this wasn’t going to be so hard after all.

  “So,” Roger said, “you have to repeat the vows after me. We won’t go through them all now, but let’s just try the first one to make sure I don’t go too fast, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Right. So, I, Jessica…”

  “I, Jessica…,” I repeated.

  “Take thee Ant—” Roger frowned. “Well, since he’s not here, we’ll skip over that line. So, to have and to hold…”

  “To have and to hold…”

  “To love and cherish…”

  I could feel Max’s eyes on me, and my cheeks started to burn up. I couldn’t say these words tomorrow. Not to Anthony. Could I?

  “To love and cherish…”

  “In sickness and in health…”

  “In sickness and in health…”

  I looked up briefly, and then looked away, but my eyes were drawn back to Max’s almost immediately. He was hot, too, I noticed.

  “And so on and so forth.”

  “And so on and—” I stopped myself from repeating what he’d said word for word just in time.

  “Okay,” Roger said, his eyes twinkling. “So then Anthony will say his stuff, and then, if I’m feeling generous, I’ll tell him he can kiss the bride.”

  I imagined kissing Max and my flush deepened. Max’s did, too. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing, then shook myself. Of course he wasn’t. He was probably just embarrassed. Probably wondering what was wrong with me. I was, too; my hands were hot and clammy and my face felt like a furnace. Max, meanwhile, was pulling at his collar.

  “And then,” Roger continued, “you’ll go and sit over there and sign the marriage certificates while I give the congregation a scare with my sermon.” He laughed, then, seeing that no one else was joining in the joke, he shrugged. “Okay, then. After that, we’ll finish the service, you will walk back down the aisle a married couple and, hopefully, the booze will start to flow. Sound good?”

  I managed to nod.

  “Great, so if you and Max can make your way back down the aisle?”

  Max looked at me uncertainly and held out his arm; I took it, equally uncertain. Just touching the sleeve of his jacket was shooting little electrical currents all around my body; as I hooked my arm around his, I felt his muscles tighten. We walked silently down the aisle until we reached the bottom where we stood, waiting, although I wasn’t sure what for. All I knew was that I didn’t want to let go.

  “Great! Okay, well, I think we’re done,” Roger said. “If you’re happy with that?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” I heard myself say.

  “That was great!” Fenella said, walking toward us. “Okay, so now you need to go back to the hotel to get changed for the dinner. It’s in the conference suite—starts in forty-five minutes. Okay?”

  We both nodded, silently, and carried on walking, down the aisle, out of the church, around the corner. It was only as we were approaching the hotel that I realized I was still holding Max’s arm.

  “Well, that went okay,” Max said, as we walked through the main doors. “I’m sure tomorrow will go perfectly.”

  I nodded. And tears started to prick in my eyes and I didn’t know why so I wiped them away irritably.

  “If you want it to,” he said tentatively.

  “If I want it to?” I repeated.

  “If it’s really what you want to do.”

  “Is it what you want me to do?”

  “Me?” He stopped, and I suddenly realized what I’d said.

  “You? No,” I said quickly. “No, I didn’t mean…”

  “What did you mean, Jess?” Max was staring at me, and as he did his eyes seemed to go darker, more intense, and I could feel the heat of his body, even though he was several inches away from me, and suddenly I didn’t want to be Jessica Milton, I wanted to be Jessica Wild, here, with Max. And I don’t know if I moved closer to him or if he moved closer to me, but suddenly we were touching, from our legs to our shoulders, and before I could even think a coherent thought his lips were on mine and my arms were around his neck and it felt so incredibly right. And suddenly I knew. Knew without any doubt that I didn’t want to marry Anthony. And that it had nothing to do with hating marriage, nothing to do with my desire for independence. It was because I was in love with Max. I was in love, just like my mother had been before she had me, just like all those silly girls my grandma used to roll her eyes at, like I used to roll my eyes at.

  “I can’t do this.” Max pulled away and I felt my heart thud with despair. And then I pulled myself together. Of course he couldn’t. Nor could I.

  “No, of course not,” I said immediately, my voice slightly shrill. “No, I can’t do this either. I don’t even know what happened then…”

  “You don’t?” Max’s expression was unreadable.

  “No,” I said quickly. “No, it must be wedding jitters. I’m sorry. I really should go…”

  As I spoke, I heard a familiar voice from across the lobby. “Jess? Maxy,” Anthony called. “There you are. Sorry I missed the rehearsal—I was on the phone. Work got in the way, I’m afraid. So, drink? What do you say? I think I need a stiff one, myself.”

  “Anthony,” I said, turning guiltily. “Hi!”

  “I looked everywhere for you,” Max said. He was trying to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We had to do the rehearsal without you.”

  “Well, so long as you don’t do the same with the wedding I think I’ll survive.” Anthony grinned.

  “Marcia said there was a problem with payment,” Max continued. His voice was expressionless, like nothing had happened, like we hadn’t been clinging to each other just seconds before. I was suddenly aware of a big, empty feeling in my stomach, but did my best to ignore it. It was just weakness on my part. I’d get over it.

  Anthony smiled easily. “Max, it’s kind of you to worry, but believe me it’s all under control. So, drink?”

  I looked at Max.

  He looked at me.

  We both looked at Anthony.

  “Actually, no,” Max said. “No, I think I need to do some work on my best man’s speech if that’s okay. You…you have a drink together. If that’s what you…” His eyes flickered over to mine; I looked away.

  “Yes! Absolutely. You work on your speech,” I managed to say. “We’ll see you later?”

  “Of course,” Max said, looking down at the ground as he spun around and marched off toward the lifts.

  “Come on, Jess,” Anthony said affably. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

  “Yes,” I said, looking up at him. “I guess it is.”

  Chapter 30

  PROJECT: MARRIAGE DAY 42

  To do

  1. Get married.

  2. Oh God.

  3. I’m getting married. I’m actually getting married….

  Helen arrived the following morning with Sean and Ivana in tow to find me still in bed. It was, I realized, the last time I would wake up alone, the last time I would have my own bed—even if it was a hotel one—and I wanted to make the most of it. Plus I had a bit of a headache—one drink had turned into quite a few the night before; somehow
it seemed the right thing to do, and Anthony certainly thought it was a good idea. He kept saying how tomorrow was a big day, how any problems would disappear, and even though I wasn’t sure entirely what he was talking about, I found myself nodding vigorously and telling myself he was absolutely right.

  Ivana inspected the room, nodding curtly as she noted the smart plasma television screen, the writing paper, the large shower, the huge bed I hadn’t been able to pull myself out of.

  “Is nice room,” she said. “Good bed. But is now time you get ready.” She sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette. Immediately I got up and opened a window.

  “So how did the rehearsal go?” Helen asked.

  “Oh, you know, fine really,” I said, attempting a smile.

  “You no seem like excited bride,” Ivana said, her voice deadpan. “No big smile and screaming.”

  I shrugged. “I’m screaming on the inside.”

  Ivana raised an eyebrow and picked up the remote control, flicking on the television as she and Sean took over the double bed, leaning back against the headboard and stretching out their legs. “Ah!” she shouted. “Ah! Is perfect film. Is wedding film. We watch.”

  I looked at the screen to see Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell in a restaurant talking about the number of lovers they’d had.

  “Maybe Runaway Bride’s on the other channel,” I heard myself say, a little smile playing on my lips.

  Helen looked at me uncertainly. “You’re not…having second thoughts, are you, Jess?”

  Ivana turned up the volume.

  “Because…” Helen came over to me and took my hand. “Look, I want you to know, Jess, if you are, then that’s fine. I’ve been thinking…you know…I mean, marriage is a big deal. I know I said it isn’t, but it is. And I’d hate to think I pushed you into anything you don’t…you know…want to do…”

  “You haven’t,” I said quickly. “This is my mess, not yours. You haven’t pushed me into anything. You’ve just helped me, that’s all. And I am grateful, you know. I do appreciate it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I nodded. “Come on—this time tomorrow I’m going to be a millionaire!” I forced a smile, tried to make myself feel happy and excited.

  “Oh, thank God.” She smiled in relief. “So listen, how would you feel about being on TV?”

  “TV?” I looked at her uncertainly.

  “My interview yesterday,” she said, grinning. “This producer asked me for an idea for a television show and I was thinking about you and the wedding, and I just, you know, came out with it. And they loved it!”

  “Came out with what?” I demanded.

  “How to turn your life around in fifty days.”

  “What?”

  Helen sighed. “Like you did,” she said patiently. “You see, I was in this job interview and I was having one of those out-of-body experiences where I realized that I didn’t really want to work on a program about fishing and that I was missing your rehearsal.”

  “Right,” I said doubtfully.

  “I mean, I was thinking about how amazing the whole Project Marriage thing had been—you know, making all your dreams come true.”

  “My dreams,” I said, thinking of Max, then kicking myself. “And?”

  “And I thought, you know what? Anything’s possible,” Helen continued. “Don’t you see?”

  “Anything?” I sighed inwardly. “I’m not sure about that.”

  “Yes it is! Jess, we completely turned your life around, didn’t we?”

  I nodded. “You’re right. We did. So you got the job?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Helen said excitedly. “But after the interview I went for a coffee and ended up at the same table as a producer. And I told him about my crap interview and about you, and about my idea for a series based on people changing their lives completely. And he loved it! Commissioned it right there and then! And the best thing is, you can be our first show, so it’s virtually already in the bag. I mean, ideally we’d have filmed the wedding, but there just wasn’t time to get a crew down here.”

  “You were going to get a crew down here?”

  “Well, not without asking, obviously,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “But it was all down to you. So you have to be in the show. Don’t you?”

  “Can I think about it?” I asked tentatively. “Maybe after the wedding?”

  Helen shrugged. “Sure. I mean, you know, whenever works for you…”

  I smiled weakly. “Okay, time to get dressed.”

  “This dress?” Ivana had moved off the bed and was now looking at my wedding dress, which was hanging on the back of the door, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. “Is no good dress. Febric is itchy.”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, it’s my dress. It’s the one I chose.”

  Ivana shrugged. “Funny choice, to me.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t ask you,” I said.

  “End there is no ashtray in room,” Ivana continued, apparently not noticing the stress in my voice. “Where am I putting cigarette out?”

  Helen looked at me warily. “Tell you what,” she said, walking over to Ivana. “Why don’t the two of you go downstairs to the café? You can smoke there; I’ll stay here with Jess and help her get ready.”

  “Downstairs?” Ivana asked dubiously.

  “That’s right,” Helen said, helping Sean off the bed. “We’ll see you in the church, okay?”

  Ivana opened her mouth to speak, then shrugged. “We put coffee on your room teb. Maybe even full breakfast.”

  As Helen closed the door, she turned back to me with raised eyebrows. “She means well,” she said tentatively. “They both do.”

  “I know,” I said quietly. “But thanks for getting rid of them.”

  “No problem. So look, let me do your makeup before you put the dress on, okay?”

  I nodded silently, my eyes drifting over to the plasma screen showing Four Weddings and a Funeral as Helen smeared creams over my face. When she was finished, I picked up my wedding dress. It took awhile to fasten, but eventually it was on and I turned to look at myself in the mirror. I was a bride. I was a bride wearing a dress that didn’t do much for me, that was uncomfortable against my skin, that even a Soho prostitute turned her nose up at. But to me it felt right. The wrong dress for the wrong wedding to the wrong man.

  “I got you this.” Helen handed me a garter belt. “It’s blue. And if you give it back, it’s borrowed. Plus it’s new. So that’s covered three out of four.”

  I gave her a hug and put the garter on, pulling my dress right up in the process.

  “Your knickers,” Helen said.

  “My knickers?”

  “They’re the old thing, right? I mean, they’re not new, are they?”

  I reddened slightly. I’d bought some new silky lingerie weeks before from a shop that Fenella had recommended (actually, she’d insisted I go there—at one point I thought she was going to march me in there herself). But somehow I hadn’t been able to put it on this morning. My old graying cotton panties seemed somehow more appropriate.

  “No one’s going to see my knickers,” I said.

  “No one?” Helen raised her eyebrow.

  I shrugged and opened my eyes wide because I could feel the prick of a tear and didn’t want to encourage it.

  “Jess, are you okay?” Helen put her hands on my shoulders—her expression was anxious. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I nodded. “Of course I do.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” I nodded. “I’m just…emotional, that’s all.”

  “Good. Just checking.” She held out her arm, and I hooked mine over it. “So, ready to go?”

  I looked back at the television, briefly, to watch Hugh Grant getting punched by his bride in front of a whole congregation of his family and friends.

  “Ready,” I whispered.

  Slowly, silently, we left the room, walked down the stairs, out through the hotel lobby, the
n around the corner to the church. It was a warm day, but I was shivering.

  “To the future Mrs. Milton,” Helen said, giving me a wink. And as she spoke, the doors to the church opened, the organ started to play, and suddenly we were walking through the doors, down the aisle.

  “Perfect timing!” I turned to see Fenella right next to me. “Okay, I’m going to the hotel to get everything ready. Good luck!”

  She dashed off; I looked ahead, uncertainly, and saw Anthony, who was standing in front of the altar. He turned around and winked at me. Next to him was Max; our eyes met briefly and my stomach flip-flopped, then he looked away. As we approached the altar I could see on one side Ivana and Sean, who both offered me a thumbs-up, and on the other side, Marcia and Gillie.

  Giving me a little squeeze, Helen prized my arm out of hers and went to sit down. Roger, who, as promised, was wearing the full regalia of gowns, gave me a beaming smile, and the organ changed its pace and suddenly everyone was standing up and singing a hymn.

  And then the singing stopped. “Dearly beloved,” I heard Roger say. “Or rather, ladies and gentlemen. Good morning. And what a morning it is. A morning for celebration. A morning for being thankful for God’s bounty—for love, for devotion, for friendship, for support—for all the things in fact that make up a good marriage. Because, as we all know, marriage isn’t something to approach lightly, not something to jump into out of boredom or because it seems like a good idea. Marriage is a lifelong commitment in the eyes of God. It requires faith, trust, love, commitment, honesty, and hard work. It means enjoying the good times together but also working through the difficult ones, supporting each other. The phrase we all know is in sickness and in health—but it’s more than that. It’s in poverty, in uncertainty, in dark times when the only light at the end of the tunnel is the belief that it’s there. That’s real love. And that’s what we’re here to celebrate today. The wedding of Jessica Wild and Anthony Milton.”

  He smiled at me and I tried to smile back, but I felt like the world was closing in on me.

  “And so,” Roger continued, apparently oblivious to my glassy eyes and greenish skin, “without further ado, let’s get this show on the road, shall we? Although, first of all, and please excuse the official language, but I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now.”