But that’s a problem for another time, I tell myself.
Kim always swore she wouldn’t be a bridezilla, but those of us who know her all laughed and reassured her that we were fully prepared for her to lose her mind to wedding prep. She’s the kind of person who was born to get married. She’s so dreamy eyed, such a romantic. Nothing like me, let’s face it. She and Jeremy have even already started working out when they want to start trying for babies, and how they’ll manage it when babies do come along.
(Plus, you know, they’re thinking about trying for babies.
Intentionally coming off birth control, not just forgetting to take it. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about that kind of commitment.)
My best friend is sweet and thoughtful and always there as a shoulder to lean on, but she also likes everything to be done just so.
Kim didn’t spend three weeks planning a six-person dinner party to celebrate my twenty-first birthday on a whim, after all. (Seriously.
There were balloon arrangements and a dress code and everything.
And that was her idea of “something small and intimate.”) So, yeah, Kim was definitely going to be a bridezilla.
It was never a matter of if, but of when.
She’s had her moments, throughout the last year, since Jeremy proposed. There was the meltdown when her mum and grandma got stuck in traffic and missed the wedding fair, and another when she decided she’d found The Dress but it was double the cost of the wedding dress budget even before she considered shoes, a veil, or alterations, so she and Jeremy had a big row about whether it was worth it or if they should cut costs elsewhere and did she really expect them not to pay for the absurdly expensive hotel room for his grandparents the weekend of the wedding? Oh, and there was the time she actually screamed at the hairdresser who did a trial run, because it didn’t look the way the picture on Pinterest did (although, to be fair, the highlights were a little on the orange side, rather than the warm honey tones she’d been looking for).
I held her hand and consoled her through all of it, and reassured her that she wasn’t overreacting while apologizing to people behind her back on her behalf.
It was all my job, my duty, as maid of honor. And besides, she’s probably been doing the same for me for years, whenever people think I’m being rude and don’t like them, when really, I’m just that blunt and have the same resting bitch face with everyone.
Admittedly, I’ve quite enjoyed it all. The maid of honor stuff, that is, not the incurable resting bitch face. Kim and I had always joked about me being her maid of honor since we were little kids, and I love having a project to sink my teeth into. And Kim’s wedding has been a pretty fucking big project.
I dared not complain whenever things got . . . intense.
I did, however, dare to float the idea a few days ago that we should, maybe, perhaps, sort of, somehow, cancel this weekend.
After all, there’s a pandemic going on. You shouldn’t be traveling, they’re saying on the news, unless you have to. You should stay at home.
A stickler for rules, I dared to say as much to Kim. “Maybe you should all stay at home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kim blustered over the phone, puffing and panting because she was out power walking at the time. (Part of a strict prewedding exercise regime, to counter all the cake testing.) “We’ve had this planned for ages. How else am I going to get all the wedding favors and the centerpieces done? Don’t you remember we had to cut the entire budget almost to nothing after I agreed to let Jeremy plan that ludicrous weekend in Budapest for his bachelor party?”
It was hardly a budget of nothing, I thought at the time, looking at the boxes of dried rose petals, netted bags, and individually wrapped chocolates and sweets that had just shown up at my apartment that day, ready to be tied into little wedding favors.
“And besides, Addison’s not been out anywhere, and you’ve not been out anywhere, and you both live alone, and Lucy’s been living with her parents but she’s not been out anywhere else and honestly, Liv, I cannot deal, this whole thing is just—it’s such a pain. It’s not like they’ll be taking public transport to get to your place! And if Jeremy loses all that money on the bachelor party when I had to go and get a cheaper dress, I’ll be absolutely furious. It’ll be fine. If anyone gets so much as a sniffle, we’ll rearrange, but right now everything is fine.”
She said it so venomously, like she could fix this entire thing just by sheer will power alone, that I didn’t really have it in me to protest.
I did message the other bridesmaids—her future sister-in-law, Lucy, and her friend from her year abroad in America and current job, Addison—outside of the group chat, saying that I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to come over . . .
Obviously, Kim had already got to them, though, or else they’d already expressed their doubts to her just like I had, because the messages I got back from them were a little too enthusiastic.
Lucy Kingsley:
Oh, don’t worry about it! I know how important this weekend is to Kim. Really excited to meet you both properly and spend some time together! We’re all being very careful right now so sure it’ll be fine xxx
Addison Goldstein:
GIRL, don’t even! I haven’t hung out with people outside of work in waaaaaay too long, I need this weekend! (Plus I think Kim will actually have an aneurysm if we don’t get those centerpieces sorted out, LOL!) Thanks again for putting us all up for the weekend, hon—see you both in a few days!
Olivia Barton:
Sure! No worries! Just thought I’d check :) Got the champers all ready and can’t wait! xxx
Obviously, I couldn’t tell them not to come.
Well, I could have, I suppose, but just thinking about dealing with the fallout gave me a headache. Not to mention someone still would have had to put the centerpieces together, and I absolutely did not want to face doing that alone.
It’s not like this weekend hasn’t been fun. Actually, it’s been some of the best fun I’ve had in a long while. We decided to treat it as a sort of test-run bachelorette party: there was karaoke, a near-constant marathon of cheesy rom-coms playing in the background, plenty of greasy takeaway food, popcorn, and of course, prosecco.
We got about halfway through constructing the centerpieces and wedding favors, but Kim had been in such a good mood she didn’t even seem to mind that things hadn’t gone to plan, for a change. She was more like her old, fun-loving, prebridezilla self; that alone made it all worth it.
It’s been a really great weekend.
But dear God, I’m glad they’re leaving.