by Becky Monson
The guilty stabbing pain mainly comes from the wording: “Mr. and Mrs. Raymond S. Dorning, along with Barbara J. Moody and the late James N. Moody, request your presence at the marriage of Julia Warner Dorning and Jared Nathan Moody.”
The marriage of … Our marriage. But we’re already married and now this whole thing is feeling like a bit of a sham. I mean, no one else will know, but still. All of the work that everyone went to. I know it was the right thing to do for Jared and me (mostly for me). I know it. But still, I can’t help but feel some guilt. I clearly didn’t think of all of the consequences. Not to mention it’s been near impossible not to tell Anna or Brown. I keep trying to figure out a way to tell them the story without telling them we eloped, but since that’s the key element there, it’s just not possible.
“Julia, dear, you never told us about your weekend away,” my mom says as if reading my mind. She’s carefully inserting an RSVP card into an envelope.
“It was … um … nice?” Why do I end sentences with a question when I’m not being honest? I need to get some counseling on that. Although I doubt any counselor would help me on my lying skills.
“Well, you seem less stressed,” Bobby says.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I act like I’m concentrating on a particular invite and don’t look up. I don’t want to give away anything with my eyes. Honestly, we should’ve taken into account that I’m the worst liar ever before Jared and I eloped.
“Okay ladies, we need to focus,” Anna says, and I’m suddenly so grateful for her slave-mongering ways. “We have to get these done tonight so they can go out tomorrow.”
Only five weeks until the big wedding. I just have to shut my trap for five weeks. It’s going to be pure luck that I will, because right now I have very little faith in myself.
CHAP
TER 27
“You what?” Brown yells, and I quickly shush her. We’re sitting on the couch at her home and no one is around. I don’t even know why I shushed her. No one can hear us.
“We eloped,” I say in hushed tones. I can’t seem to stop keeping up the façade.
I made it two weeks without telling anyone, but it’s been building up inside me so much that I needed an ally. Someone I could rely on to keep it a secret. Someone I could talk to. So of course Brown was the perfect person. And I told Jared I was telling her and he was fine with it. Mostly.
“You freaking eloped?” Brown’s eyes are wide with disbelief.
Honestly, of all people I thought Brown would be the one to take this piece of news the best, especially considering her love of gossip and the fact that she’d be the only person who would know. Ever. And also because it was romantic as heck to elope. I figured she’d see all of that.
But the look on her face isn’t as excited as I thought it’d be. Maybe it’s her pregnancy hormones making her act opposite of how she usually does. Maybe I need to up the ante.
“You can’t tell anyone, Brown,” I say, so she knows she’ll be the only person who’s privy to this gossip.
“Well, of course not,” she says, her eyes piercing into me. “Everyone would be devastated. They’ve put in so much work. Why did you do it?”
Hmm, yes, a question I’ve asked myself one too many times these past two weeks. It’s not that I regret eloping with Jared—I love being his wife. It’s just that I haven’t been able to be his wife since we can’t tell anyone and I’m currently living in my parents’ basement and he’s living in his condo with his mom.
“Because I couldn’t take the pressure of the big wedding. It was making me crazy. So I thought if we eloped then it would make it so there wasn’t so much stress on our wedding day, and nothing would have to go perfectly since we were already married.”
She stares down her nose at me; I can see her assessing the situation.
“Were you really that overwhelmed with the wedding?” she asks. I know she’s pregnant and that was on her mind, but how did she not see all the crazy wafting from my body? I mean, I was certifiable. I still sort of am. I’m more of a recovering certifiably crazy person now.
“Yeessss,” I say overdramatically. “Anna was making it so over the top and Bobby’s invited half of Denver … I just kept thinking that there was so much riding on it being the most perfect day, and my nerves couldn’t take it.”
“So do you feel better now?” Her face morphs into something a little more understanding. I think I might be getting through to her.
“Well … “ I trail off.
“Julia,” she says, the understanding gone. “Explain.”
“Okay, so it was super romantic and all of that—well maybe not so much the ceremony, with the officiant being high and all. Oh, and Lia making herself my maid of honor.” My mouth starts spewing stuff, in random order.
“Whoa, slow down there, Bessy. Let’s back it up and tell me from the beginning,” Brown says, her gossip face back on.
“From the beginning. Right. Okay,” I say.
So I tell her from the beginning. She knew a lot of it, but I filled in the blanks, like how I convinced Jared to elope at the hospital, to which she tells me that I should never make huge life decisions under the influence of drugs. I mean, I was on pain meds, but this had been on my mind for a while. The drugs just gave me the guts to say it out loud.
I tell her about the actual eloping and how that all went and her tone lightens up exponentially as I explain it. I feel lighter, being able to say it all out loud to someone other than Jared. First of all, Jared is a guy—and so he won’t truly discuss things in detail like I want to/need to. Secondly, he was getting sick of the rehash. That’s why he was “mostly” okay with me talking to Brown. He was a little against me telling anyone because he didn’t want to risk it getting back to Anna or Bobby or any of our family. But especially Anna and Bobby. Brown can be a vault when you need her to, though. So I know I can count on her to keep our secret.
“So let me get this straight. Now that you’re married, you’re living apart. You, back in your parents’ basement, and Jared with his mom in your future condo,” she says, her brow creased as she retells the last part of what I just explained.
“Yep,” I say flatly.
“Jules,” she says, and then she looks like she’s going to continue on, but instead she starts laughing. As in she can’t breathe, she’s laughing so hard.
I have to admit, hearing it all does point out the ridiculousness of the scenario. And it’s all just so fitting. It’s absolutely something that would happen to me. It’s all so very … Julia.
“Oh my gosh,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “That’s the best story I’ve heard in a long time.” She wipes her eyes with a tissue that she grabbed from a box on the end table next to her.
“I’m glad I could give you something to laugh about,” I say, with a quick, disdainful eye roll to the sky.
“I’ve been so nauseous lately, it’s nice to feel something else,” Brown says, leaning her head back against the couch.
“You’re nauseous?” I ask, wondering why this is the first I’ve heard of it.
“Yeah, it just started last week,” she says, rubbing her flat stomach. It’s hard to believe anything is growing in there.
“That’s good, right?” I ask, not actually having a clue if it is or not.
She shrugs. “I guess. It’s kind of miserable, but I hate to complain about it. Especially since I should be excited about everything. But honestly, the nausea has made me pretty depressed. It’s sort of sucked the fun out of it.”
“Does Matt feel the same way?”
“No. He’s thrilled. So I have to pretend I’m excited.” She looks down at her hand on her stomach. I can see that she’s having a pretty decent battle between how she should feel and how she’s actually feeling. What an awful thing to go through.
“Brown,” I say, putting a hand on hers, which seems to be happening more and more lately—I think we’re becoming more touchy-feely friends. “I’m sure it’ll go
away and then you can be excited again.”
“Maybe,” she says.
“But even if it doesn’t, don’t let feeling guilty ruin this all for you. If you feel sick and not excited, then just feel sick. Don’t make it worse by adding guilt into it all.”
Wow, that was poignant. Especially for me. Marriage has made me wiser. Or maybe it was Oprah.
“You’re right. Thanks, Jules,” she says with a half-smile.
“Look at the bright side, at least you didn’t have to sneak your husband in through your parents’ basement window last night and then out before anyone woke up in the morning.”
“You didn’t!” She says, a smile back on her face.
“Oh, but I did. It felt like we were in high school, actually. It was kind of exciting.”
“That actually sounds a little thrilling,” she says, her mood brightening substantially at this.
“It really was,” I say.
I honestly hate the running around Jared and I have to do now, but at least in the meantime we get to make some fun out of it. Like sneaking him into my parents’ basement. Sure, he could just come in the front door—my parents wouldn’t really care—but since we’re trying to keep up the façade for Bobby, we seem to keep going with it, even for my parents. Plus, we wouldn’t want it to get back to Bobby. And my mom is what I call the “innocent gossiper.” Meaning, she spreads gossip like wildfire and never even realizes she’s doing it.
“Well, I guess I’m happy for you, Jules,” Brown says, her lips curving up for the briefest of smiles.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“I guess I should start calling you Mrs. Moody now,” she says, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
“Not so fast,” I say, my index finger pointedly warning her. “No one knows I’m Mrs. Moody yet, and they can never know. This one has to go to the grave, okay Brown?”
“Your secret is safe with me.” She mimes zipping her lips.
“Thanks. It feels good to tell you,” I say.
“I bet it does. How do you anticipate keeping it from everyone else? You’re a terrible liar,” she says, her head tilting to the side as she questions me.
“I’m only a terrible liar if someone directly asks me a question. No one is going to think we’d actually elope,” I say, but then feel a tiny tinge of worry travel down the length of my spine. What if someone does ask?
I only have to make it four weeks. That’s it.
I can do this.
I hope.
CHAPTER 28
Mother of all things crappy, if I have to open one more piece of lingerie in front of my mom and Bobby, I might scream.
And everyone is loving it. Squealing in delight with each piece I receive. Sharing stories I never wanted to hear (oh the things that have come out of Patti’s and Debbie’s mouths). This is the stuff nightmares are made of.
I tried so hard to get out of this whole bridal shower thing, but Anna was not having it. And of course it’s pretentious and over-the-top, just like I hate. We’re sitting in my parent’s living room, which has been decorated in ridiculous amounts. Anna went with a tea party theme. I don’t even like tea. And now we have to sit around sipping it and I get to open gifts that are basically x-rated. In front of my mother and future (well, actually current) mother-in-law.
Bobby has been her normal refined self. Unfortunately, this whole lingerie thing has opened up a can of super disgusting worms where my mother is concerned. She’s said things about her and my father that I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to scrub from my brain.
My sister-in-law Jenny is here. Poor Jenny. She’s about as flabbergasted with it all as I am. I don’t remember any of this at Anna’s shower.
Oh gosh, please just let me die right now.
If that weren’t enough, Lisa is here. My arch nemesis, Lisa. I don’t know how I got suckered into inviting her, but Mark mentioned her wanting to come and caught me on a rare moment of insanity (or, not-so-rare)—so I told him to tell her she was welcome to join us. I honestly didn’t think she would, but she arrived right on time, her dark silky hair in tow. If Lisa and I ever got into a throw-down (which doesn’t seem that far-fetched, honestly), I’d have to do something besides pull her hair like a normal cat-fight. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt those silky locks, not matter who they’re attached to.
And just so she could offer yet another jab, the ever-so-sweet Lisa’s gift was a certificate for a spa that does laser hair removal. She said it was for my “you know what” as she indiscreetly pointed to her upper lip indicating that hair removal was needed on me, which it’s so not. I had that taken care of long ago. She’s the epitome of loveliness. Thank goodness the meds have cured my eye twitch or I’d be twitching all over the place right now.
I, for reals, hate her.
“Open mine next,” says Brown.
“I’m afraid,” I say.
“You should be,” she replies, her eyebrows doing a double lift.
Anna hands me a large, beautifully wrapped box. It certainly feels too heavy for lingerie. Of course with Brown, it could be whips and chains. Please don’t let it be that. I look at Brown with questioning eyes and she motions with her head for me to open it.
I take my time removing the ribbon and opening the foil-striped blue paper because I don’t want to rip up all of the work she put into it, and I also want to put off what I might find in here. I start pulling out the tissue paper until my hand hits something hard. Definitely not lingerie. I reach in with both hands and pull out a cutting board. A gorgeously stained wood cutting board and engraved in the center is Mr. and Mrs. Moody, along with the date of the wedding. It’s simply stunning.
“I love it,” I say as my fingers feel around the inscription. Maybe it’s because of my new medication, or maybe it’s because I’ve just opened a bunch of dirty lingerie and I’ve finally been given a reprieve, but my eyes well up at the thoughtfulness of this gift.
“Thank you, Brown,” I say, almost in a whisper.
“You’re welcome. And there’s something else.” She points to the box still in my lap.
I pass the cutting board to Anna and she sets it with the other gifts and then I look under another layer of tissue paper. There I find his and her matching g-string underwear that say “Mr.” and “Mrs.” on the front.
Brown starts laughing hysterically and everyone joins in as she pulls them out of my hand and holds them up for everyone to see. I swear I’ve blushed more in the past hour than I ever have in my entire life.
“Oh, Betsy, those are darling,” my mom exclaims.
“Darling, mom? Really?” I say, not being able to help myself.
“They’re a far cry better than your granny panties,” Anna interjects.
“How dare you,” I say to Anna, and then I grab the offending underwear (if you can even call it that—they don’t look like they cover much) and tuck them into one of the bags I’ve already opened.
“You’ve saved the best for last,” Patti says, as Anna hands me the last present—a colorful gift bag that feels rather full. I simultaneously want to be grateful that this is the last gift, and also cry because it’s from Patti and there is no way she’s gotten me something tasteful.
“This is from both Patti and me,” Debbie chimes in and then stifles a giggle.
Oh my dear heavens, I don’t even want to know.
I peek in the bag. Crap of all craps, it’s basically a bag full of wedding night paraphernalia. An entire freaking bag full. Creams, his and her gels, and a blindfold and—good gracious, is that a whip?
“What’s inside?” Bobby asks.
“Uh…” I sputter. “It’s just, uh—“
“Oh let her see it,” Patti cuts me off, pulling the bag out from me and dumping the entire contents onto the floor in front of everyone.
All I can do is cover my face with my hands as everyone in unison starts talking and laughing as they fish through the loot. Even Jenny joins in. That traitor.
I
would so love for this day to be over. Like, right now.
“Oh Julia dear, look how much fun you can have,” my mom says as she picks up a tube of what I can only guess is lubricant.
I hate my life.
“You know, when Raymond and I first used something like this, it changed everything for us,” she says and others nod at her in agreement.
Oh no, please, no more stories. Dear Lord, if I promise to dump this entire marriage and join a convent, will you please get me out of this?
“Well if you think that’s fun, you should try this,” Patti says, and hands a can of something that looks like mousse to my mother.
“Oh!” she looks at the can and then giggles. “Do you really think so?”
Please. Make. It. Stop.
“Ladies!” Anna yells above the racket. “It’s time for cake!”
Just like that everyone abandons my gifts from Patti and Debbie and heads over to where the cake is. Apparently the only thing that can get women to stop talking about wedding night paraphernalia is chocolate cake. I’ll need to remember that for future use.
CH
APTER 29
I’m in such a good place right now.
Not emotionally or anything. I’m just currently eating chocolate.
Anna has made me limit my chocolate before the wedding and honestly, it’s been tough. I mean, what is there to live for without chocolate? So when I finally do sneak a little, it’s like heaven. Honestly, if heaven isn’t one big chocolate fountain party, then I’m not sure I want to go.
I’m actually doing better emotionally. Even being separated from my husband and still having to pull off this massive wedding, I’m feeling so much more relaxed. Only two weeks until we can make this charade official, so that’s making things easier as well.