The Less Than Perfect Wedding

by Sam Westland

  "Susan?" Alex asked. "Your sister? What did she want?"

  My response was a shrug. "To be honest, I have no idea," I confessed, thinking back to our unusual talk. "It was really weird. I guess that she just heard about us getting engaged."

  "Ah, so she was offering congratulations?"

  "Not quite," I said. "As far as I could tell, she was upset at us, because apparently we were 'showing her up' and embarrassing her by getting engaged when she had just broken up with whatever guy she has been dating recently." I tried to remember whether there had been any real thread of sense to the conversation, but drew a blank. "She even called from a number that I didn't recognize, because she had changed phone numbers to dodge this guy. My sister really is crazy, I think."

  "She didn't seem that bad when I met her," Alex protested, his eyes briefly darting to the ceiling as he thought back.

  The last time I could remember Alex and my sister being in the same room was at least six months ago, possibly at her birthday party. "That's because it was my sister's birthday, and she didn't have to act out to make sure that she had everyone's attention," I pointed out. "Look, I know that you want to not offend me by bad-mouthing my family, but it's okay - I realize that they're all crazy!"

  Alex nodded, but still didn't say anything bad about Suzy. "Actually, I received a pretty strange call this afternoon as well," he commented, changing the topic instead.

  I turned to look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "I think it might have been from one of the vendors for the wedding - he wanted to confirm some date that he'd heard, and was demanding money for the deposit," he continued. "Did you give them my phone number? I didn't realize you had begun making reservations, but he was telling me that I needed to give him money for - and I remember this quote - 'the wedding and shit.' He actually didn't sound like that reputable of a vendor, so I told him that I would have to check with you. Did you already pick out a date and a place?"

  The confused explanation must have been clear on my face. "Alex, I haven't even started planning the wedding," I told him. "We don't even have a date picked yet! I certainly haven't even started looking up vendors for catering or anything, much less putting down any deposits."

  Now Alex looked confused as well. "So you don't know this guy?" He paused, and then scrabbled at his pocket for his phone. "Wait a minute. I jotted down his name, after the conversation, so I could ask you about this. Here it is. Do you know a Bryan? He didn't give a last name."

  "Bryan?" For a moment, the name meant nothing, and then, like a post-traumatic stress flashback, I suddenly saw the emails from my high school acquaintance living in the apartment building where my father now resided with his new girlfriend. "Wait a minute, I think I know who that was! What was the area code from the phone call?"

  Scrolling through his phone, Alex read off the three-digit number, and my suspicions were confirmed - the call came from my parents' hometown. Blossom might not have a phone, it seemed, but her deadbeat son somehow managed to afford one. "That Bryan that you talked to is my soon-to-be stepbrother," I informed Alex. "Not even officially part of our family, yet, and he's already trying to scam money out of us. This makes me so happy with my dad's personal choices."

  Alex was still looking at me, confused; I hadn't been keeping him fully up-to-date with the woes that my parents were going through, preferring instead to put that part of my life out of my mind as soon as possible after reading the messages from friends and past neighbors. Sighing, I gave my fiance a quick overview of what had transpired with my parents since we had last seen them a month before. By the end of my recap, Alex's jaw was hanging open.

  "I told you that my family was crazy," I said, shaking my head back and forth. "And I'm pretty sure that things will end up just getting worse, especially when they are all forced together into close proximity for our wedding." I raised my eyebrows at him. "Still time to elope to Las Vegas and get married there without telling anyone?" I offered, keeping my voice light but only half-joking.

  Regretfully, Alex shook his head. "I'm pretty sure that my parents will be crushed if they don't get to go to our wedding," he confessed. "They really like you. Besides, I've already told my younger brother Danny about it, and he's looking forward to being the best man. He would never let me live it down if we just ran off and got married without letting him have his fun."

  The two of us turned our attention back to the program on television in front of us, but I had to stop after a few minutes as a new and disturbing thought surfaced in my mind. "How did Bryan even find out about our wedding in the first place?" I asked out loud.

  "Your father must have mentioned it to him," Alex guessed. "If he's living with Bryan and his mother-"

  "Blossom."

  "-right, then maybe he heard about it and wanted to get involved," Alex finished.

  "But we haven't even decided anything on our wedding! We haven't even picked out a date!" I cried. "So how does Bryan know about a date, when even we don't have anything confirmed yet?" As I spoke the words, however, a horrible thought surfaced in my mind. "Actually, I may have an idea what's happening," I said, replying to my own rhetorical question before Alex could offer an answer.

  He quirked his eyebrows at me. "What are you thinking?"

  I shook my head. "It's probably nothing," I said, hoping that this was the case. "But I think that, tomorrow, I'm going to have to give my mother a call. With all the craziness that she's been doing lately, it wouldn't be that surprising if she's even trying to use this wedding as a chance to get back at my father somehow."

  "Is there anything that I can do?" Alex asked.

  It was a question I had been considering for a while. Was the groom supposed to help out with planning the wedding? Unfortunately, I knew Alex's style in areas of fashion and decor, and it was absolutely appalling. He had once tried to insist that the best way to brighten up our house was to purchase a collection of ceramic orange pumpkins! Orange!

  "I think that I have this under control," I finally told him. "I'll focus on planning the wedding. You can relax, pick your best man, give me your guest list, and just focus on writing those vows!" I gave the man a poke in the side, just below his ribs, and made him squirm.

  Alex just grinned, swatting my hand away. "Sounds good," he replied. "But remember, if you ever need me to step up and shout at your family, you let me know."

  I craned my head around to look up at him. "You're honestly not bothered by all this insane stuff?" I asked in a wondering tone.

  He shook his head firmly back and forth. "I told you, I can handle your family, no matter how crazy they end up being," he said, his tone filled with conviction. His arm tightened around me. "Don't worry, babe. Nothing's going to ruin this wedding."

  I gave him a smile, and we turned back to the television, but I still couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding dread. Please, let everything work out, I prayed silently, although the little voice inside my head was whispering that, just maybe, the best thing to do in this situation was to grab Alex, cut all ties to my crazy family, and just run.

  The Wedding Planner

  *

  Fortunately, the next day was a Saturday, and I was determined to call my mother and figure out exactly what was going on as soon as I finished my morning cup of coffee. Swirling the last dregs in my cup, I sat down at our little dining room table, flipped open the spiral notebook that I had designated as my wedding planner, and pulled up the contact list on my phone. I scrolled down to "Janice - mother", took a deep breath, and then hit the call button.

  My mother answered on the second ring. "Oh, I was just about to call you," she began, not even letting me say hello. "I have some decisions about your wedding that I need you to sign off on, and you have to hand in your approval so that we can get the deposits in place before all of the caterers and locations are booked up."

  I could already feel my mouth beginning to drop slightly as I was hit by this barrage, but I rallied, quite magnificently in my opinion. "Hol
d on a minute, Mom," I interrupted. "What are you talking about? Alex and I haven't even picked a date, or started thinking about the details of this wedding at all. Why are you already talking about caterers or locations?"

  "Well, the wedding planner needs to get everything reserved," my mother blithely replied. "Speaking of which, she needs a check too-"

  "Wedding planner!?" I sputtered. "Mom, you hired a wedding planner? Why!?"

  My mother's tone immediately shifted from commanding to hurt. "I'm just trying to help out!" she whined. "Look, everyone's hiring a wedding planner these days, and if you don't get the ball rolling, everything will be booked up and you won't be able to get anything that you want! I've paid some of the deposits-"

  Once again, I was forced to interrupt. "You paid the deposits? Mom, I haven't even agreed to anything yet!" A new thought occurred to me. "And besides, how are you paying all of these? Shouldn't be using your money for the divorce proceedings, legal fees and such?"

  "Oh, don't worry about that. I'm using up your father's checks," my mom said. Her tone sounded as though it was meant to be reassuring, but I was anything but calmed by this. "We've always had separate accounts, but he put me as an authorized person on his account, and now I'm just making sure that, since he's living with that whore now, he pays his fair share of the wedding costs."

  Not even bothering to hold in my groan, I rubbed one hand across my face. Now, I was beginning to get a better idea of what was going on. "Mom, you're just using this as an excuse to screw over my dad, aren't you?" I asked. "No, wait, don't answer that. I already know. Look, you need to stop this right away."

  "But I'm just trying to help, like a good mother should-"

  "No!" I cut her off. "Listen, Mom, I don't care that you're trying to help out, even if you're not just doing this to hurt Dad! This is my wedding, and I am going to be the one who plans it. Not this wedding planner that you've hired, and certainly not you! Now, I want you to stop telling her anything - if this wedding planner wants to help out, that's fine, but she'll be asking me about every decision, and I have the final say. Not you, not Dad, and not anyone else. Me! Is that clear?"

  There was a long pause after this furious outburst, and for a moment I feared that my mother would begin screaming at me as well. But finally, grudgingly, she spoke up. "Fine. I will give Sally your information, and tell her to give you a call directly."

  Sally? "Mom, where did you even find this wedding planner?" I asked.

  "Oh, one of my church friends recommended her," my mom said. "But don't worry, I'll pass on your message to her."

  I felt as though I had won this argument too easily. "Actually, why don't you give me her number right now?" I replied. "I'll just call her right now and let her know the new arrangement. That way, you won't need to worry about calling her at all."

  My mother tried to protest, as I knew that she would, but I was insistent, and finally I was jotting down the digits of Sally, the supposed wedding planner. "Thank you, Mom," I said, my words carrying no hint of sympathy. "It was so nice of you to start working on my wedding for me, but I will take care of everything from here on out." I heard my mother pull in a breath, ready to start protesting again that she could help out more, but I ended the call before she could speak.

  I set the phone down on top of my spiral notebook, next to where I had jotted down Sally's number. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heartbeat, push the frustration flooding through me aside, and prevent the vein in my forehead from bursting out in a shower of blood. When the doctor asked me why my blood pressure was so high at my next checkup, I thought darkly to myself, all I would need to do is bring in a family photo to point at. That would answer every question, right there.

  After several deep calming breaths, my eyes closed as I tried to remember the teachings from the couple of yoga classes I had attended a few years ago (I had a half-price coupon, and still only ended up going to four of the six sessions that I purchased), my blood pressure had subsided to something resembling normal, and I could no longer hear my blood pounding in my ears. As I tried to draw in deep, steady breaths, I heard footsteps approaching from behind me.

  A minute later, Alex's arms dipped down to wrap around me, below my bust, and he nuzzled into my neck to plant a quick kiss. "Hey, honey," he greeted me, his breath warm on my ear. "How are things going? Starting the wedding planning?"

  "Apparently it's already been started for us," I replied, rubbing my forehead. "My mother has decided that she isn't content just being happy for us, and has decided that the best course of action apparently is to hire a wedding planner, pay her off with my dad's money, and make every decision about our wedding for us."

  A moment later, Alex's lips regretfully pulled away from my ear as he sank down into the chair next to me at the table. "You know, I'm starting to see why you didn't want to see them for this past Christmas," he groaned. "Your mom has a way of making sure that she gets her own way, no matter whether it's her place or not."

  I nodded fervently. "I told you that my family's crazy," I said.

  "So, what's next?"

  Looking down at the spiral notebook in front of me, I tapped the phone number that I had managed to strong-arm out of my mother. "I guess I'll have to give this wedding planner a call, see if I can get her onto my side." I picked up my phone again and tapped in the number, but held off on calling, staring at the screen.

  Alex was definitely able to pick up on my reluctance. "How about I leave you to it?" he said quickly, hopping up out of his seat and scurrying off to the kitchen. I sent a death glare after him for deserting me, but the look bounced harmlessly off the back of his head.

  Pulling in one last deep breath, I hit the "dial" button and lifted the phone to my ear. After three rings, there was the click of the other end of the line answering, and I heard a young woman's voice on the phone. "Yes? Hello?"

  "Hi," I said, my tone uncertain. "I'm, um, calling for a wedding planner?"

  "Yes, speaking, this is Sally," came the reply.

  "Okay, hi. My name's Danielle Jansen, and I think that my mother hired you to plan my wedding?" I began, not sure how to bring up the subject.

  "Oh my god! Ms. Jansen!" the voice on the other end of the line exclaimed. "I'm so sorry for not getting in contact with you sooner - I haven't quite managed to get everything all confirmed yet, but I've been trying my hardest! It will just take another day or two!"

  "Whoa, whoa!" I interjected. "Calm down! I'm not upset, or calling to yell at you! I just found out that my mother hired you, and wanted to know what was going on!"

  After a moment, I heard Sally take a long, shuddering breath. "Oh, thank god," she let out. "I don't think I've ever been yelled at this much in my life before I agreed to take on this wedding."

  "Great, great," I nodded.

  "In fact," Sally continued, "what if I just stopped by your house later today? I could bring by my designs, and we could get everything figured out?"

  I sighed, but I didn't have anything else planned for the day. "Yeah, sure," I said, and gave the wedding planner my address.

  About forty minutes later, I heard the buzzer of my front door. When I opened my door, I was greeted by a young blonde woman who would be quite pretty if she didn't look so frazzled and frayed. She was quite short, with a bob cut, a slightly panicked expression, and a very large binder tucked under one arm with scraps of paper and cloth samples sticking out at all angles.

  "Hello," I said, mustering up a smile. "You must be Sally."

  *

  The young woman at the door was indeed Sally Stafford, a wedding planner with a background in design and event management. And much to my surprise, as she laid out some of the preliminary plans that she had made for our wedding, she was actually quite good at her job. From flower arrangements to wedding invitation designs, the suggestions that she pulled out of her cavernous binder were very well coordinated and beautiful.

  As we sat at my kitchen table, looking over designs that she sho
wed me, I was pleased to see that Sally had finally begun to relax. When it became clear that I wasn't going to begin screaming at her, she was willing to suggest some wonderful color themes that I could already envision for our wedding.

  A few minutes into our conversation, Alex emerged from the kitchen, munching on half of a bagel with cream cheese. When he saw the wide array of wedding-related materials spread out on the table, however, he beat a hasty retreat out of the room, managing to spit out a few words about "doing some work in the bedroom." I suspected that he was more likely to put in headphones and play one of his video games, but I let him go.

  Forty-five minutes later, my mood had pulled a complete one eighty. Sally might be as timid and easily bullied by my mother as a mouse, but she certainly knew her stuff; she had a selection of different venues picked out, and was able to clearly explain the benefits and downsides of each style of wedding that we could plan out.

  "So, now it's your turn," Sally said at length, after we had examined the various styles that she had laid out from her binder. "What sort of wedding do you want? What are you envisioning?"

  I looked down at the different pictures, photos, and wedding magazine clippings spread out across the table. "Well, I've always wanted a summer wedding," I mused, my eyes temporarily losing focus as I tried to imagine how I had pictured the happiest day of my life. "And I always thought that it would be nice to have a more formal affair, in a big church with flowers and a reception at a hotel ballroom and everything."

  Her small hands moving rapidly, Sally shuffled through her stacks of pictures, pulling out a few and spreading them out in front of me for me to observe. "How about these ones?" she asked.

  I looked over the photographs. After a few minutes' observation, I picked out one of them, holding it up to Sally. "Wait a minute!" I said. "I recognize this one! This is my family's old church!"

  She took the picture from me, nodding smartly. "Excellent," she said approvingly. "In fact, I know this one, Sacred Father - and I know that it has an open booking weekend. And between proximity to downtown hotels and my calls, I believe that it would be all but perfect for what you have in mind." I was nodding, but Sally had a little more to add: "There is one issue, though."