‘Vi, you might wake up tomorrow to clear skies,’ I say, sitting down next to her.
I know she’s been stressing since we left the venue. I have been too. Seeing all the work that’s going into the reception space brought home how much thought has gone into planning the wedding. Mum’s time, Maia’s time, Vi’s time – two years of organisation – just for one day. Then there are all the guests who’ve flown in to QT the last three days, who are excitedly posting photos on Facebook, hyped up for the destination wedding.
I get it now – why Vi wants tomorrow to be as perfect as possible.
‘It’s not the weather,’ Vi says, wiping her eyes. ‘I don’t know what it is. I just started crying. I feel weird. What if . . .’
‘If?’
‘Jack and I wind up like them. Mum and Dad.’
I go quiet for a second. ‘Vi, you won’t. You guys are nothing like them.’
‘They were happy once too,’ Vi says.
She’s right. They were. You could see it in their wedding photos – if they weren’t beaming in a photo, they were laughing, their mouths open, heads back, brimming over with joy.
No-one starts out unhappy.
‘Vi, you and Jack won’t let that happen.’ I know my voice is shaking slightly, even though I’m trying to keep it steady. ‘You’ll do things differently.’
‘You think?’
‘Of course.’
We grab each other’s hands because neither of us knows what to say to squash down the same fear we’ve both always had.
Love doesn’t last.
‘Hey, what’s going on here, girls?’ Mum’s at the doorway, holding two mugs of tea.
‘Vi’s got cold feet,’ I say as Dad appears at the door too.
‘Well, I’ve got an easy cure for that.’ Dad grabs a pair of woolly socks from the dresser drawer and sits down next to Vi. He puts the socks on her feet, then starts rubbing each foot between his hands, like he’s trying to start a fire.
‘Any better?’ Dad asks.
Vi groans but manages a smile.
‘That’s how we got your mum’s cold feet sorted the night before our wedding,’ Dad says. ‘Ask her.’
‘That’s not true.’ Vi rolls her eyes.
‘They were solid blocks of ice.’ Dad shakes his head sadly. ‘You can’t blame her – knowing she was going to be shackled with this guy for eternity.’
‘Were you actually scared?’ Vi asks Mum.
Mum climbs onto the bed with us and starts massaging Vi’s shoulders, trying to help her relax. ‘Of course I was.’
‘Everyone’s scared the night before their wedding.’ Dad squeezes Vi’s foot, which is still in his hand. ‘It’s normal. Means you’re taking things seriously.’
‘You don’t regret it, right?’ Vi asks. Although her voice is lighter than before, you can tell the question’s serious.
Mum dips her head. Vi can’t see her from where she’s sitting, but I can. There’s a lump in her throat, moving up and down. She’s trying not to cry. I look away so I don’t either.
‘How could I ever regret your mum?’ Dad says. ‘How much of an idiot do you girls think I am?’
‘Pretty big,’ Vi says, smirking now.
‘You really want to ask that question?’ I say, trying to be light-hearted for Vi’s sake.
‘You know, Jack could get a beer gut,’ Dad says to Vi. ‘Maybe you should call this thing off.’
Vi throws a cushion at him, and then Mum and I do too, and then it’s outright war until all four of us are flat on our backs on the bed, laughing.
Taylor
Saturday 8 June
We’re waiting for the bride now, out on the lawn. It’s 2:55pm, and the wedding guests are seated. Jack and his groomsmen are tuxed up and standing by the floral arch. Jack’s grinning, even though you can see he’s a tiny bit nervous too.
The guests are turning in their chairs. I peer back at the house and I see a flash of white.
‘The bride’s arrived,’ the celebrant, Janet, says. ‘Could I ask you to please stand to greet her?’
We rise from our seats. I’m closest to the aisle, in the second row of the left-hand side next to Dad. The music starts. I can feel my heart pounding – I can’t even imagine what Jack’s feeling right now.
Issy’s the last bridesmaid down the aisle. Her dress is the colour of pinot – the ruby-toned wine they make out in the Gibbston Valley – and her lips are the same shade. She’s smiling at me like I’m the only one in the crowd, and I forget about turning my head to look for the bride like everyone around me is doing.
That’s when I remember.
When I was six, I asked Isolde to marry me.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t actually ask. I kind of just assumed marriage was the deal we had going.
I can see us now. We’re sitting in the lounge room in her parents’ house in Sydney. We’ve just finished watching Snow Dogs, the Disney movie about husky sled racing.
‘When we get married, I reckon we should have at least three huskies,’ I say to Isolde. ‘That way we have a sprint team. We can take them to comps—’
‘What makes you think we’re going to get married?’ Issy interrupts.
‘Best friends always get married.’ I shrug. ‘That’s how it works.’
‘What if I love somebody else though?’ Issy asks. She looks worried. ‘What if you do?’
‘Well, that’s impossible.’ I make a face at her. ‘I love you best.’
She’s quiet for a second. The movie credits stop and so does the accompanying music. There’s shouting in the kitchen. Her mum’s voice, and then her dad’s. They fight a lot.
‘I don’t think I want to get married,’ she says, picking up the remote. She starts the movie again and turns up the sound.
Isolde
Saturday 8 June
I can’t stop looking at my sister. Everything around us today – the sky, the mountains, the lake – is breathtaking – but she’s the most beautiful.
Mum’s a mess. Dad is too. They’re both crying in the front row. Dad’s reached over and is gripping Mum’s hand in both of his. I can’t look at them, or I’m going to cry too. I keep my eyes on Jack and Vi, because right now, everything is perfect for them.
Tiny birds are warbling all around us, filling the spaces between the vows. When Jack and Vi kiss for the first time as husband and wife, Jack punches the air in triumph. As they head down the aisle, the guests shower them in red and white rose petals.
Up on the lawn near the deck, waiters are handing out champagne and mulled wine. Everyone’s hugging and kissing.
‘I might be biased, but I think that’s the best ceremony I’ve seen,’ Tay says as he hugs me. ‘It was pure magic.’
Taylor, Ana, Finn and I are all standing by the cheese table when the buzzing starts. At first I think it’s a plane, flying in low, and then I remember – it’s a helicopter, here to collect Jack and Vi for their photo session up in the mountains.
As Maia waves in the helicopter, the air from the rotor blades send the rose petals on the ground airborne. They dance around us like snowflakes.
All the guests start cheering as Vi and Jack head for the helicopter. Once they’re inside, the blades start up again and the heli lifts off. We watch until it becomes a speck against The Remarkables, and finally, it disappears over the ridge of the mountain.
Taylor
Saturday 8 June
After the last speech at the reception, Vi and Jack stand up together at the end of the room. They give Dad and the band a nod, and the beginning notes of ‘One, Two, Three’ – their first dance song, written by Dad – fill the room.
The bride and groom have the floor to themselves for a minute, lost in each other, before Patrick and Louise join them as per tradition.
I look over at Issy in the chair next to me. She’s staring at her parents. I can feel her hurting.
‘Is, will you dance with me?’ I ask, holding my hand out to her befor
e I lose my nerve.
She looks at me. Then she puts her hand in mine and smiles.
Isolde
Saturday 8 June
‘Just so you know,’ Taylor says as we stand on the edge of the dancefloor, looking awkwardly at each other, ‘I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.’
He looks bewildered, and I can’t help laughing.
‘Me either,’ I admit.
‘You’re a dancer!’
‘Ballet,’ I throw back. ‘Not ballroom.’
‘Let’s go with basics, then,’ Taylor says. ‘I think this hand goes here.’ He places my left hand on his shoulder and his right goes to my waist. Our other hands are clasped.
‘And then,’ Taylor is close to me now, his voice in my ear, ‘we just go with the music.’
I don’t look at Mum and Dad. Instead, I let the music float over me, and I remember how beautiful the words of ‘One, Two, Three’ are. How they’re about new beginnings and falling in love.
By the chorus, I’ve shut my eyes. I don’t know how it’s happened, but Taylor and I are so close now that my head is against his shoulder. We’re not just holding hands any more – our fingers are laced, just like all those years ago. I can feel his heart beating, and I wonder if he can hear mine too, because it’s fluttering like the rose petals were earlier today, and it might only take the tiniest little thing to make me float away.
Taylor
Saturday 8 June
Why couldn’t Dad have written another couple of verses? I think as the last note rings out on the song. I’m not ready for Issy to leave my arms.
The band takes a short break, and Issy and I head outside onto the deck. It’s freezing out, but it’s a nice contrast to the reception room, which is overheated from dancing bodies.
I turn to face the moon and I see something else entirely. I stifle a laugh.
‘Is,’ I whisper, pointing at the wedding arch, which is still out on the lawn, ‘check it out.’
Finn and Ana are under the arch, making out.
Is puts her hand over her mouth, smothering her laughter.
‘Should I scare them?’ I say, taking a step forward on the deck.
‘Don’t be mean,’ she says, still giggling.
‘Fine.’
I guess if that was Issy and me kissing, I’d kill Finn if he interrupted. But when Ana and Finn come back up the path, hands entwined, I don’t hold back.
‘To the new Mr and Mrs Williams!’ I grin, pretending to raise a glass in celebration.
‘Five years old, much?’ Finn says as he slings an arm around Ana’s shoulders and they head back into the party.
‘Right, don’t wait for us, then,’ I call after him cheekily as the door slides shut behind them.
‘I kind of like it out here,’ Issy says, smiling at me.
‘Me too,’ I say as we stand together, looking up from the lights of the party to the clouds rolling in over the mountains above.
They’re snow clouds, I can feel it.
Isolde
Sunday 9 June
The wedding finishes at midnight, but no-one wants to go home.
Mum, Dad, Tobi, Taylor and I climb into Maia’s four-wheel drive. She hasn’t been drinking, so she’s going to drop Dad, Mum and me back at our hire house. Vi and Jack are staying at a hotel for their wedding night.
‘Why don’t you come around to ours for a bit?’ Mum says to Maia and Tobi as we head past Frankton.
Please say yes, I think, turning my head to the window so Taylor can’t see my hopeful expression. I know it’s a giveaway.
‘Hey, the night’s still young,’ Tobi says, shrugging, and Maia and Mum cheer. I feel like joining in, but I keep my enthusiasm to a little grin.
It’s freezing when we get out of the car. We’re all yelping at the cold as we rush to the front door. Mum switches on the heating as soon as we get inside, and the fire too.
Even though we’d eaten loads at the wedding, somehow Tobi and Dad wind up making pesto scrambled eggs at 1:30am, and we sit around the lounge with plates of it, talking about our favourite moments from the day. Before long, the adults have taken over Spotify and have the ‘classics from the nineties’ blaring out of the sound system.
Dad’s trying to dance to ‘U Can’t Touch This’ by MC Hammer, but trips over the coffee table in five minutes. You can tell he’s drunk too much pinot at the wedding.
Taylor and I stay for the Nirvana track. We join in on ‘Macarena’ even though we only know about five seconds of the moves, whereas our parents know them all, even Tobi, who always pretends to hate pop music. But when ‘I’ll Make Love to You’ by Boys II Men starts up, we both throw each other a look.
‘This is getting weird,’ Taylor says, standing up as our parents all launch into the chorus, with their hands over their hearts, faux-serious.
‘I can’t deal,’ I groan, putting my hands over my ears.
‘Want to sneak away?’ he asks.
I nod, and we grab our coats from the hook on the wall and head out onto the front deck. It’s just around from the lounge, so the music drifts through the glass door, even when we shut it behind us.
We stand against the wooden railing of the deck, making fun of our parents. Our laughter rises as steam into the cold sky.
‘Now, this is a decent song,’ Taylor says as Oasis’s ‘Wonderwall’ starts up.
‘I still like the Ryan Adams version better, you know,’ I say.
‘I can make that happen.’ Taylor pulls his phone out of his pocket, finds the track and pushes ‘play’. He puts the phone down on the rail beside us.
As the acoustic guitar starts, he steps closer to me. I look up at him, thinking of how the last time we listened to this song we were thousands of kilometres away from each other, and now there’s only a tiny space between our bodies.
‘We have to dance to this one,’ Tay says softly.
I nod because I can’t find words.
We don’t ready our hands into position this time. Instead, it’s like muscle memory, and we fall right back into the way we held each other earlier, only closer. My arms are around his neck, and I can feel his hands on the small of my back, hugging me to him. I close my eyes and breathe him in.
‘I think you got your wish.’ His words are a murmur in my ear, sometime after the chorus.
How does he know that this is what I wished for? His arms around me at the end of the night?
I open my eyes, feeling shy. I look up at him, hoping to read his expression – to know what he’s thinking, feeling, at this moment – and that’s when I realise.
It’s snowing.
Each snowflake is an adagio, a slow dance from the blackness of the sky above us. I hold out my hand to catch one because I’m sure it’s an illusion. But when I feel something solid transform into a liquid in the space of two heartbeats at the tip of my finger, I know it’s the real thing.
That’s when I realise – that last day I’d been wishing for the other night, the one where I knew the ending was coming, and I got to soak in every last moment before it melted away – today is that day.
I think of Mum and Dad dancing at the wedding tonight. And I start crying.
‘I’m sorry.’ I drop my head down, away from Taylor’s. ‘It’s just – today was . . .’
‘I know, Issy,’ he says softly. ‘I know.’
Taylor
Sunday 9 June
I hold her because I know that’s the only thing I can do to help right now.
We keep dancing, a slow shuffle, side to side, as snowflakes settle on our eyelashes, until the very last note of the song.
Instant Messenger Conversation
Sunday 9 June, 1:26pm
Finn Williams: Why is fate so cruel??????
Taylor Hellemann: This isn’t fate, dude, this is a major weather system.
Finn Williams: WHY IS THE WEATHER RUINING MY LIFE?
Taylor Hellemann: You know this isn’t personal, right?
Finn Willi
ams: Easy for you to say. You’re SNOWED IN WITH THE GIRL YOU LIKE. I’m on the opposite freaking side of the lake to mine. I can’t believe the group breakfast got cancelled.
Taylor Hellemann: What were we going to do, cross-country ski there?
Finn Williams: Maybe.
Taylor Hellemann: It’s a snow apocalypse out there. No-one’s going anywhere until the roads are cleared.
Finn Williams: He says joyfully. You’re all sitting around the fire with mugs of hot chocolate right now, aren’t you? And you and Issy are playing footsies under the coffee table, and YOU HAVE NO EMPATHY FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND, cold and loveless over here in Jack’s Point.
Taylor Hellemann: :) :) :)
Finn Williams: Don’t mock me with your smiley faces.
Taylor
Sunday 9 June
They clear the roads by 4pm, but Mum, Dad and I wind up staying for dinner at the Byrnes’ anyway.
I have a major crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch last night, after Mum and Dad realised they’d enjoyed too many glasses of wine while rocking out to nineties throwbacks and shouldn’t drive home. They’d slept in Vi and Jack’s room, and I’d snuggled down on the L-shaped couch, watching as the snowfall outside became an absolute flurry.
By the next morning, when Issy and I dash out onto the deck like two kids at Christmas, the entire town is blanketed. Louise is on the phone half the morning, telling friends and family that the post-wedding brunch has been called off.
‘We’ll organise a group activity for tomorrow,’ she says. ‘I’ll keep you posted.’
By 8pm, tomorrow’s group activity has become skiing at Cardrona. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Mum and Dad exchange a look in the kitchen, their eyes darting over to me for a split second.
Issy and I are splayed out on opposite ends of the couch in a pasta coma after destroying Louise’s puttanesca. Issy’s right foot is touching mine, and I’m struggling to concentrate on anything else.
The Long Distance Playlist Page 21