The Bastard Takes a Wife

by Lindy Dale

  I was trying to put it behind me, to remain calm and unemotional. Really. I was trying to remember that other people had worse wedding experiences than me, horror stories, in fact, that you would never get over. I tried not to let my blood boil over the little things that had the potential to become earth-shattering if I thought about them for too long but it was very hard when everything seemed to be imploding and all I wanted was to explode. And the thing that made me the most stressed was the fact that I wasn’t normally like this. I’d never been the girl who became distraught over shoes and hairdos. So why was I doing it now?

  Pushing that thought from my mind, I looked around the assembled group, grateful for each one of them and all they were doing for me. Next to Paige, Kirby was flicking through a magazine and on the other side of the room the remainder of the girls were looking at something on Mel’s phone. I smiled to myself. It was nice that Alex was fitting in. I wanted them to be friends.

  “Can you believe this email Angus sent us?” Mel asked, tossing her phone across the reception area at me. “It’s five pages long. We’re not going to have time to scratch our bums for the next two weeks.”

  I opened the screen in question and began to read. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, Mel. I never wanted it to be like this.”

  Every email he sent was longer than the last and more demanding.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  I gave her a wan smile. “But I’m letting it happen. I feel like I’m on the freight train to Disasterville and I can’t get off. I guess I just have to face the fact that it’s Sam’s mother’s wedding, not mine. And she likes big.”

  “Well, this is bigger than the fucking London Olympics. I mean, if that email had said we were arriving in horse-drawn pumpkin coaches, I wouldn’t have been surprised ~ well, apart from the fact that it’d be extremely fucking tacky and you’re not tacky in the least. Are you coping with everything else, okay?”

  “No. I could quite happily tell them to shove it.”

  “Is there anything we can do? As your bridesmaids it’s our duty to make things easier for you.”

  “I don’t think so. I just don’t want anything else to change. I’ve had it up to here. If one more thing happens that’s not in the plan, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  I could feel my eyes beginning to tear up and I blinked to keep them away. What the hell was wrong with me? Yes, this wedding was way more stressful than I ever thought it would be but crying? I was behaving like an utter girl.

  “Not long now and it’ll be over, Chica,” Alex said, getting up to hand me a tissue. “And I know this isn’t the wedding you dreamed of but you’ve got to look at the bright side.”

  “Which is?”

  Right about now, I was lucky to be seeing any side, let alone the bright one.

  “After it’s done, you and Sam’ll be married.”

  I sighed and blew my nose. In all the hullaballoo I guess I’d forgotten that small important point. “Thanks Alex.”

  “And you have a really pretty dress,” Paige added.

  I gave a sniff and cheered a little. “Yes, I do.”

  “And the cutest junior bridesmaid ever.”

  I bent over and kissed her forehead.

  Satisfied that she had helped, Paige began to look around, her round eyes taking in every detail of this new environment ~ the bamboo plants screening the windows, the walls covered with stacked stone, the water feature trickling in the corner that seemed syncronised to the sound of the panpipes wafting through the air. It was possibly the one thing she hadn’t experienced in her seven years of life.

  “This is freakin’ awesome,” she said, placing her small hand on my forearm. “Thank you for bringing me, Millie.”

  I put a hand over hers. She was so excited at having been included in the big girls’ day out; she’d been talking about it all week. It made a pleasant change from her other main topics of conversation ~ Justin Bieber, Jennifer Brayshaw-Jones and her newest obsession One Direction, the biggest boy band to hit the charts since Take That.

  “As if I could leave you out. You’re one of the bridesmaids and if we’re having a day of beautifying then you should too.”

  “And Jennifer’s never been for a spa day,” Paige giggled rather loudly, “So that makes me way cooler.”

  On Paige’s left side, Kirby put a finger to her pink glossed lips. “Shhh, Little One. This is, like, a quiet place. You have to use, like, a small voice.”

  Paige gave her a confused look. Then she turned to me. “Why does Kirby say ‘like’ all the time? Mummy says only common people and teenagers add ‘like’ to their sentences.”

  “Paige,” I whispered back. “You shouldn’t talk about others. It’s disrespectful.”

  “But she does.”

  “I know, but Kirby’s our friend and when someone’s your friend you accept them for who they are.”

  Even in all their pink-ness.

  “Oh.” Paige wriggled on her chair and looked at her fingers twining in her lap for a moment. Her cherub face had become solemn. “Sorry, Kirby.”

  “That’s like, totally, okay.” Kirby waved her hand in the air. “That-slut-Courtney says way worse about me and she’s a grown up.”

  Paige mouth opened to form a perfect ‘o’. Then with a look to me, she swallowed, obviously trying to ignore the word that Kirby had said. “But why?”

  “Oh, because she’s, like, a total heinous cow.”

  “Like Mrs. Jennings across the way?”

  “Well I guess,” Kirby replied. “Now, let’s have a little shush for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “People are trying to de-stress. Chatter’s, like, not conducting to the process.”

  “Wow. That’s, like, totally funny. You meant ‘conducive’, didn’t you?” Paige asked her, trying to copy Kirby’s speech pattern. “Do you, like, know any more funny stuff like that?”

  “Like heaps. I try to use a new word every day. Sometimes I get a bit mixed up though.”

  “Like when I called Chicken Parmigiana, Chicken Pyjamas?” Paige giggled back.

  “Exactly.”

  “Chickens don’t wear pyjamas. They have feathers.”

  For the first time ever, Kirby looked bemused.

  Paige sat quietly for a minute. Then she tugged on Kirby’s sleeve. Seemingly, she thought she’d met some type of Bratz Doll kindred spirit. “So is this place, like, for de-stressing?”

  “And to get made beautiful,” Kirby whispered back.

  “I don’t need to be made beautiful. I’m already gorgeous. Mummy tells me all the time.”

  “Well, yes, but regular beauty treatments keep you looking beautiful.”

  “Can I have a seaweed wrap?”

  Oh my God.

  “Where did you learn about seaweed wraps?” I asked.

  “I Googled it on the iPad while you were in the shower. Mummy had one when we went to Italy skiing last Christmas. They’re very good for releasing toxins from your body.”

  “Well, I don’t think you need one,” I replied. “You have no toxins in your body to detox seeing as how all you eat is organic food.”

  “But I had a Babycinno at Claremont Quarter yesterday. There’s caffeine in that.”

  “Not enough to warrant a seaweed wrap. A massage and Mani-Pedi will do you just fine.”

  “Can I have an eyebrow wax, then? I have this dreadful mono-brow growing. I can’t look my best with that on my head.” She frowned and ran a finger along the crease between her brows. Then she leant across to let me examine the nonexistent hair. “See?”

  “You don’t need an eyebrow wax. Besides, you’re too young.”

  “But they do it on Toddlers and Tiaras. And some of them are only four.”

  The sound of a door opening interrupted my answer and a girl wearing the loose black pants and top that signified her role as the therapist walked towards us bearing a tray filled with small ceramic cups and hot towels. She put the tray down on a coffee
table between us and began to hand them out.

  Paige stared down at her hot towel. “What’s this for? I already had a wash today.”

  “It’s to begin the cleansing process,” I replied, showing her how to open the towel and wipe it over her face and hands. “Have a try. It feels lovely.”

  Paige turned the towel over in her palms and seeing everyone else doing it, flopped the towel over her entire face. “It feels all tingly,” I heard her mumble. She hopped off her seat and put the used towel back on the tray. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Welcome to Bodybliss.” The therapist’s voice was softer than rain on a window. It lilted and fell to the sound of the panpipes, making me feel as if the stress I’d been feeling was a myth.

  She looked around the group, her eyes landing on each of us in turn. “My name is Kaylee. I will be looking after you today between your therapies but for now I have some questionnaires for you to fill out. Then we can get into our robes and begin. So, I’ll leave you to drink your tea for a few minutes and complete your forms. Then I’ll be back.”

  “Do we have to take our clothes off?” Paige asked, after Kaylee had left.

  “Yes, but they give us warm fluffy robes to wear. They even have one for you. You can take it home if you like.”

  “Can I take it for Show and Tell?”

  “You’ll have to discuss that with your mother.” Adele was very particular about her children’s choice of items to take to school. She had a reputation to uphold that I wasn’t sure if it included a robe from a day spa.

  *****

  Despite the fact that Paige and I had been in the same room for the hour-long massage, I felt uncharacteristically relaxed and ready for my facial. It was as if the touch of the therapist’s hands on our skin had sent healing powers into us both. Paige’s incessant chatter had faded after the first ten minutes and the room had become silent but for the sound of the panpipes. At one point I could have sworn I heard the sound of childish snores ~ a testament to her relaxation. It didn’t surprise me that she had. The child could fall asleep during a nuclear explosion. A massage would work wonders.

  After sitting up and putting our robes back on, we were given a glass of refreshing iced water and a chance for a quick toilet break before the facial portion of the day began. Paige was whisked away for her Mani-Pedi where Alex and Kirby would look after her and I was led into the treatment room.

  I was sooo looking forward to this part. I loved that cream and goo that they put on your face but could never justify spending money on it when I’d been saving for the B & B. Back then, every eighty dollars I’d put aside had been one step closer to my dream. Well, I didn’t need to worry about that now and today, I could be extravagant in the name of matrimony.

  The first fifteen minutes passed in heavenly bliss. The therapist had inspected my pores and cleansed my skin with something very cooling and cucumbery. She’d given me a treatment to firm the skin around my eyes and applied a tonic to my T-zone for something-or-other I hadn’t quite caught as I’d slipped into semi-consciousness. Her soft toned voice had explained every detail of the service as she smoothed an exfoliating mask over my skin.

  “This mask will give you a deeper cleanse and remove the dead skin cells,” she said, as her fingers slid over the skin of my nose and cheeks. “It’ll feel tight and a little tingly at first. Some clients say it has a warm sensation. That’s the Glycolic Acid doing its job and absolutely nothing to worry about. After ten minutes, I’ll rub the mask off and your face will glow, ready for the big day.”

  She continued to apply the mask to my face, and as promised it did feel slightly tingly at first. Then, she put two cotton pads, soaked in something lovely, over my eyes. “I’m just going to clean up here. Would you like a foot massage after I finish? It will be very relaxing while we wait for the mask to take effect.”

  Would I ever. The closest I ever came to a foot massage was when Sam played ‘tickle monsters’ on my feet. And that could only be described as torture.

  “That would be lovely. Thank you.” I relaxed under the blanket and let her get on with it.

  A couple of minutes after the therapist had taken up her position at the end of the table and was pushing at a pressure point in the ball of my left foot, I began to feel a little uncomfortable. The mask was tingling but it was extremely warm. In fact, my face had begun to feel as if I’d shoved it into a hot oven. I tried not to think about it. She’d told me this might happen and that it was nothing to worry about. Yet, as I talked myself out of my concern, I could feel my face growing hotter and hotter.

  “Um, my face feels very hot.”

  “It’s fine,” she replied. “Completely normal.”

  “But it’s burning.”

  The therapist put my foot gently down on the table and covered it with the blanket. In silence, she glided along the side of the table and stopped next to my face. Though I couldn’t see her, I could sense her body near me. She placed a finger on my cheek.

  “Hmm. You are a little hotter than I’d like. Most unusual.” She pressed a finger to my other cheek, then my chin. Then she took a warm cloth and cleansed a spot along my jaw. “Look. I’m going to take it off. Your skin may be overly sensitive to the ingredients.”

  I felt myself go rigid. What the hell did that mean?

  “You don’t have any allergies you didn’t disclose, do you? Any medical conditions? Sometimes the smallest thing can spark a reaction even if you’ve never had one before.”

  “No, none.”

  I heard her wringing out the cloth in the bowl. Then she applied it to my face and began to remove the mask. She didn’t speak for quite a while.

  “Is everything okay?”

  By this time I was imagining patches of burnt, peeling skin poking out from my cheeks and large welts along my forehead and chin. Even though the therapist had almost finished taking the mask off, my skin was still burning. Or it could have been in my head. I had been prone to over-reacting lately.

  “Yes. It’s fine.”

  Shit. And we knew that meant it wasn’t.

  “Your skin is a little red but I’ll put a lavender moisturiser on. That should fix it. It’s not uncommon to have red skin after a facial. You’ll find it will settle in an hour or so.”

  “It’s never happened to me before.”

  “Hmm.”

  It wasn’t so much what she’d said but the tone of that one utterance that made me worry even more.

  Another ten minutes went by. I tried to relax as the therapist put the moisturising cream over my face and décolletage and worked it into my skin. I tried not to think about looking like a lumpy bumpy red thing. I tried to concentrate on the fact that if she was still working on me then things couldn’t be that bad. Or maybe she was trying to repair the damage? Maybe she’d been trained not to cause alarm in skin-threatening situations? My mind raced and my blood pressure built. If only I could see how I looked in a mirror and know the extent of the damage.

  At last the facial was over. I slid back into my robe and all but jumped from the table to look in the mirror near the door.

  Holy shit. I looked worse than I used to when I’d spend hours by the pool without sunscreen. My face resembled a cooked tomato about to burst. The skin around my eyes was so puffy, I could barely see them. And the pupils were bright red too. Not to mention the bumps that looked like hives, which were springing up along my forehead as I stared at my reflection.

  “What…. what have you done to me?” I spluttered. I wanted to cry but I knew the tears would sting my skin so I held them in.

  “You’ve had a mild allergic reaction.”

  “Mild! I look like a raspberry with eyes. No, actually, that would be an insult to a raspberry.” I couldn’t stop the tears now. Big fat plops were running down my lumpy cheeks.

  “It will settle.”

  “In how long? I’m getting married in ten days, in case you’ve forgotten. I can’t have my photo taken like this.”

/>   “I just don’t understand it,” the therapist said as she ushered me back to the reception area. “Reactions like this are so uncommon. I’ve only ever seen it once in my whole career.”

  That didn’t go far to reassure me.

  “Look, if you pop to the chemist on your way home, they’ll be able to give you a few anti-histamines. That should calm the reaction down by tomorrow. And I won’t charge you for today.”

  Well, thank God for small mercies.

  Chapter 17

  On the way home, Paige and I stopped by Sam’s flat to drop off his shirts that had been at the cleaners. It had been easier for me to pick them up ~ the drycleaners was only two doors away from the Day Spa, after all ~ but in my current state of physical disarray, I didn’t want to be doing errands or seen by anyone. It had been bad enough having Paige slink along behind me as we walked to the car. She was looking at me as if I were shedding chunks of skin onto the footpath or something. Which I wasn’t.

  I went into the shop and dinged the bell for service. The woman, Beverly, who usually served me, came scurrying out from the back.

  “Why hello, love,” she said, stopping abruptly in the doorway. Her lips pressed together at my appearance. It was clear she was trying not to laugh.

  “I’ve come to collect Sam’s shirts.”