The Show Must Go On

Chapter Twenty-Two: Cleopatra

Chapter Twenty-Two Soundtrack: Cleopatra by The Lumineers

It is overcast and humid as I arrive at the wedding - inauspicious. Worse are the dented rose trellises by the front door. It doesn't take a detective to realise that someone crashed a car into them. My mouth dries up.

Ben's sister, Laurie, is getting married on a Friday in the Irish countryside, in a sprawling, flower-laden estate that was obviously purpose-built for weddings. It's noon and it's taken me six hours of travel to get here - still preferable to the overnight stay Ben's mother offered me. I pleaded work to avoid another post-mortem.

As I walk in, the windows stare down like accusing eyes.

Inside is a vast entrance hall: white walls, white floors, pink roses covering the white door frames, scenting the room so heavily I can't stop sneezing. I look for Mei immediately, but of course she isn't milling around with the dozens of other guests. Her fiance, Gabriel, is Laurie's other brother. She's a bridesmaid. She's probably smoking from an upstairs window to avoid everyone's joyful crying.

I don't know anyone in this room. A relief, yes - no awkward small talk. But also another tiny cut against the scar of my grief. Ben would know everyone. Ben loved small talk - all talk, really. He wouldn't have let me slip in late and unnoticed. In another life, I know everyone in this room, too.

I'll never get through today if I keep feeling sorry for myself. I throw off the memories and follow the crowd through the archway at the back, to a vast glass conservatory filled with rows of chairs. The windows reveal a long, shining lake circled by maple trees just about to turn. It's stunning.

I take a seat quietly at the back. Rows of eight, and the others are all pairs. A young couple glares at me as they're forced to separate around the aisle. Talk about irony. But even I, an anxious people pleaser, don't dwell on this. In a venue as beautiful as this, celebrating a couple whose family adores them, I can't worry about a few strangers disapproving.

The last few guests file in. I recognise a cousin of Ben's, with a new girlfriend on his arm; an old school friend is pregnant now. Everyone else is a stranger.

'This should be your wedding.'

Is that an angel from above, voicing my deepest feelings?

No. No, it's a woman leaning across the row, with a twisted, pitying smile.

I stifle the brief urge to scream and instead smile sweetly. She pats my cheek, once, twice, and then faces her husband. I feel the impression of her skin, even as the music starts. It feels like a brand.

I smile again, rigidly.

The flower girls appear first, sprinkling pink petals in their wake; behind them are the groomsmen and then, finally, Mei arrives with the other bridesmaids. Her eyes dart across the rows until she finds me and she grins crookedly. She's as beautiful as a sunrise.

Satisfied, she looks forward again as they slowly process, and I take a moment to admire the new dresses: pink, floral, droopy. I like them, just like I liked the ones before that, and the first ones she chose too.

These ones feel familiar. Maybe we looked at them before? I've done more wedding prep for Laurie's day than my own, because, as she reminded me, I'm practically an expert and, really, what else do I have to do? It's not like I'm getting married - oh, sorry Ellie, don't take that the wrong way. I just smiled.

The venue? Mine. The photographer? My work contact. The colour scheme? Adapted from mine, because even though it washed me out, Laurie's complexion can handle it (this insight came from her mother). It's like watching my own wedding, but I am not thinking about that today, or any day. That is not a helpful thought.

Still, these dresses feel especially familiar, with the little flowers on the sleeves, and-

The nosy woman from across the aisle is staring at me like she could set me on fire. What the hell? To avoid the piercing rage of her eyes, I look down at my sleeves, with their tiny flowers.

Oh. Shit.

I'm wearing the bridesmaids' dress.

Has anyone else noticed? Maybe I can spill red wine down myself as an excuse to go home. Or just spontaneously die of shame?

I shrink even lower into my seat, and tuck the pink tulle beneath my legs. I have never felt so big.

Maybe no one else has noticed. I can deal with one woman thinking I'm hogging the limelight. I won't like it, but I can deal.

The music swells as Laurie enters, looking radiant, although a little like a marshmallow. Her eyes dart across the aisles, avoiding looking at her groom, and I feel a twinge of sympathy. I know what it's like to dread everyone's attention. Her gaze catches on me, looks away, and then returns. She trips.

The violins freeze for a moment too, and it feels like the whole room catches its breath. Then she rights herself and carries on. The music resumes. Now she's staring intently at her feet, and her cheeks are slowly blushing. Her eyes are down, but everyone else's eyes are on me.

I sink lower into my seat.

Even in my worst dreams, I didn't imagine feeling like this. 

*

ellie rn: