Authors: Portia MacIntosh
I glance down the table at them, pleading at them with my eyes not to take this any further, but they’re not looking at me, they’re having too much fun.
‘Why not?’ my uncle asks his son curiously.
‘I don’t eat filthy animals,’ Josh replies.
Everyone in the room is still baffled, apart from Dan’s older brother Mike who is chuckling to himself – he’s clearly a fan of the movie. If this situation wasn’t all my fault I’d probably be amused too – and impressed, Josh is nailing the delivery of these lines, and he has remembered them perfectly. It’s true what they say, children have minds like sponges.
‘They root in shit,’ Josh elaborates, clearly on a roll. ‘
That’s
a filthy animal.’
On hearing her ten-year-old son say shit, my auntie snaps her head to the right at an impressive speed. The smile is immediately wiped from Josh’s face when he realises how angry his mum is, and just how much trouble he’s in.
‘Where did you hear that?’ his mum asks him.
‘I don’t know,’ he replies, fooling no one.
‘Max?’ my auntie asks her son’s partner in crime, but he’s frozen still and completely silent.
‘Josh, tell us where you heard that,’ my uncle demands, sounding angrier and angrier as he says each word.
Just keep your mouth shut, Josh. This will all blow over.
‘It’s Pulp Fiction,’ Mike says in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Little does he know, he has just sealed my fate.
‘Where have you seen…’ my auntie’s voice trails off as she turns to face me, this time her movements are slow and sinister. ‘You!’
My auntie points at me with her knife, and whether she just happens to have it in her hand or she’s actually planning to stab me, I decide not to take any chances and jump up from my seat. I move around the table as I try and explain.
‘You let my son watch a “fifteen” rated film,’ she shrieks as she tries to chase me around the table.
‘I think it’s an “eighteen”,’ Mike unhelpfully chimes in, which only makes my auntie angrier.
I’m too busy trying not to get stabbed to notice what everyone else in the room is making of this, but I know for sure that no one is doing anything to intervene.
‘It’s a classic,’ I reason.
‘A classic that’s full of swearing,’ my auntie yells.
‘It isn’t gratuitous swearing, it’s all in context,’ I insist.
‘Actually, I think it features over two hundred and sixty uses of the F word,’ Mike muses.
‘Piss off, Wikipedia,’ I snap, which provokes an unimpressed reaction from everyone in the room. Everyone but Belle, that is, who looks delighted that universal balance has been restored. Everyone hates me again.
‘I’m not saying you’re not likeable,’ my sister explains as she admires her underwear-clad body in my bedroom mirror. ‘Just that you need to try harder to make people like you.’
I lie back on my bed and exhale deeply. Dan’s back is still bad so he’s still stuck in bed. I assumed that was why Belle asked me if she could try on her bridal underwear in my bedroom, so he didn’t see it. In actual fact this is her not so subtle way of telling me that I need to try harder to “make people like me” – which, in my opinion, is as good as telling me that I am not likeable.
‘What do you think of the shoes?’ Belle asks. OK, so I’m here for a lecture
and
to watch my sister prance around in her underwear and a pair of white ballet pumps.
‘They’re nice,’ I reply. Personally I would have gone for something with a heel, but with my sister usually opting for ugly, clumsy, flat mules no matter what the weather, I’m lucky she isn’t forcing a pair on me to go with my bridesmaid dress. The wedding ceremony is taking place on the beach, so the outfits have been tweaked accordingly.
‘I can’t wait to see what my dress looks like with the shoes and the veil,’ she says to herself as she wiggles her hips in front of the mirror with a level of narcissism not unlike that of Patrick Bateman when he’s shagging those hookers in American Psycho. ‘The clothes should have been delivered by now.’
Right on cue there is a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ Belle calls out, still admiring her figure. It’s great that despite being a bit overweight she’s still so full of self-confidence. I know that when I was fat I wouldn’t ever have felt comfortable showing as much skin around other people – even when I was alone I didn’t like catching the sight of my own podgy reflection.
Uncle Steve walks into room with an armful of garment bags.
‘Here’s the first lot,’ he starts, before clapping eyes on a nearly naked Belle and stopping in his tracks.
‘Thanks, Uncle Steve,’ she squeaks as she takes the clothes from him. As Belle dumps the clothes down on the floor and begins ripping into them, my uncle sidles over to me.
‘Are you trying anything on?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I laugh.
‘You should, I can give you a male perspective.’
‘Aw, thanks, uncle,’ Belle interrupts. ‘Can you go get the rest of the clothes first?’
Worried he might miss something while he’s gone, my uncle dashes out of the room.
‘Right, if you want me to try anything on we’re doing it now, before Uncle Sleaze gets back,’ I hurry my sister.
‘Hey,
I’m
the bride, me first,’ Belle complains. ‘Not everything is about you.’
I exhale deeply. Steve trying to catch sight of me in the nip is very much about me, but there’s no reasoning with Belle at the moment. Whether I have to try anything on or not, I suddenly feel very naked around my uncle in the super-short, hot pink, tiny nightdress I slept in last night.
Belle finds her dress, hops into it and demands I zip her up.
‘Wow,’ I exclaim.
‘I know, right?’ my sister replies as she twirls around in front of the mirror.
Lucky for me, Belle took my exclamation as one of delight rather than one of horror. Make no mistake though, I am horrified.
In addition to her white stockings and white ballet pumps, my sister has slipped on a strapless, white tutu dress. She looks like a little girl about to perform Swan Lake with the rest of her ballet class, but if I tell her as much she will no doubt act as moody and stubborn as a bratty little diva.
‘So you like it?’ my sister asks.
‘It’s…’ I pause to think carefully about what I’m going to say. ‘Is it a bit short for a bridal gown?’
‘I’m getting married on the beach – duh! It has to be short or it will get covered in sand. All the outfits are short, even the men’s trousers. We’re going for a sort of casual formal look.’
As my brain tries to process exactly what a casual formal look is, I feel a headache coming on.
‘So, what’s my dress like?’ I ask, suddenly terrified.
‘All in good time,’ my sister says. ‘I’m trying to figure out how this veil goes on.’
I take the sparkly white birdcage veil from my sister and begin fixing it in place on her head.
‘Here, it’s easy.’
My sister takes a long hard look at her outfit in the mirror. A single tear rolls down her cheek and for a moment I am touched by her sweetness – that is until that beautiful single tear turns into an eruption of wailing and a flood of tears. I may not be an expert on the emotions of your typical bride but I’m fairly sure this is not a display of happiness.
‘Belle, what’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘My wedding is ruined,’ she cries. ‘My wedding is ruined and my marriage is going to fail. And it’s all
your
fault,’ she adds.
‘What? How is it my fault?’ I’m confused.
‘Because… because… because… because… because…’
As my sister struggles to say what she wants to say because she is so upset it occurs to me that this would be an inappropriate time to start singing ‘We’re Off To See The Wizard’ at her, so I don’t.
My mum comes bursting into the room.
‘Oh, Belle, darling, what’s wrong?’
‘Mia did it,’ Belle wails.
‘Mia, what have you done now?’ my mother asks me angrily.
‘I don’t know,’ I reply honestly.
Soon enough we are joined by my grandma, who must have heard the commotion too.
‘What’s going on?’ she asks as she joins my mum in comforting Belle.
‘Mia has upset Belle,’ my mum tells her.
My gran, who doesn’t look the least bit surprised, rolls her eyes.
‘You tell us what she did, Belle,’ my gran demands.
I wait patiently to find out what I have said or done that is so horrible while my mum and gran fuss around my sister, drying her eyes and rubbing her shoulders.
‘She… she… she put my veil on me,’ Belle sobs.
My mum and gran both stare at me.
‘I did,’ I reply timidly. I was only trying to help her out, did she want to do it herself or something?
‘Oh, Mia, how could you?’ my gran cries.
‘It’s because she knows she’s never going to be a bride because I made her my bridesmaid and she wants to take it out on me by ruining my wedding and my marriage and my life,’ my sister sobs without pausing for breath – and at such a speed that I’m still not sure what she’s talking about.
‘Can someone who doesn’t need to blow their nose explain the problem to me,’ I ask, annoyed that I’m being made out to be some kind of wedding-ruiner.
‘It’s bad luck for a bride to wear her entire outfit before the big day,’ my mum explains.
‘And you put my veil on me,’ Belle sobs. ‘It tempts fate.’
‘Oh! Shit, Belle, I’m sorry.’
I had forgotten about her silly wedding superstitions, but surely she realises I was only trying to help her, and they are only silly superstitions after all, nothing is done and dusted.
‘So what do we do?’ I ask. ‘Walk backwards? Throw some salt around?’
‘Mia,’ Mum snaps. ‘Take this seriously.’
I thought I was.
‘Ask her to leave,’ Belle sobs.
‘Mia–’ my mum starts, but I cut her off.
‘I can hear her! It’s fine, I’ll go.’
As I walk towards the door my uncle comes charging in with more garment bags.
‘Sorry,’ he says breathlessly, ‘I couldn’t get rid of the delivery man. Did I miss anything?’
Belle stops crying and for a moment everyone stares at him, wondering what he means.
‘I mean, did I forget anything? Or is this it?’ he backtracks.
‘No, this is all of it,’ Belle sobs.
‘Are you not trying something on?’ my uncle asks me quietly as I walk past him.
‘At this rate, I’m thinking a noose around my neck,’ I reply.
Today, I am officially persona non grata. With my sister crying hysterically in my bedroom, and nowhere else in the house for me to go without being treated like a turd in a swimming pool, I have ventured outside for a walk on the beach. The only problem is that because I was thrown out of my bedroom, I couldn’t get any shoes to put on – not much of a problem walking on the beach, but I’m fairly sure my little nightdress is not an ideal outfit for taking a stroll. What choice do I have, though? I’m not allowed in my room, my auntie doesn’t want me going anywhere near the kids, none of Dan’s family or friends want anything to do with me and if I stayed in the house Uncle Sleaze would only stalk me from room to room, drooling.
So, a walk alone on the beach it is. It’s a lovely day today – nice and warm luckily, and the sun is shining bright in the sky. If I wasn’t so unprepared I could have kicked back here and done some work, or just topped up my LA tan that is fading by the day.
As I walk I think about my sister and why she is upset. I do feel badly about what happened today but I didn’t intend to upset her or jinx her or whatever she seems to think I had in mind when I put that veil on her head. If Belle wasn’t upset about this she would still be banging on about me giving Dan a bad back, or upsetting the family by teaching the kids inappropriate language. There must be a bigger issue deep down somewhere because what I see as silly little mistakes my sister sees as me being on a one-woman quest to ruin her wedding.
‘Hello again,’ a strong Australian accent snaps me from my thoughts.
I turn around to see a big, buff blonde dude walking out of the sea, not unlike that scene in Casino Royale where Daniel Craig emerges from the water in his little blue trunks. A soaking wet golden retriever with a tennis ball in its mouth follows him closely.
I glance behind me to see if he’s talking to someone else – certain I have never met this man before in my life – but there’s no one there.
‘Hi,’ I say cautiously.
‘How are you?’ he asks, flashing me his perfectly white teeth as he smiles. I may not have a clue who he is, but he’s gorgeous.
‘I’m OK. You?’
‘I’m great… you don’t remember me, do you?’
I shake my head. This man is convinced he knows me but this is the first time I have left the house since I got here and I don’t know when or where else we could have possibly met.
‘We’ve met?’
‘Yes,’ he says confidently. ‘You’re from the big house.’
The handsome Aussie points towards the beach house behind me.
I stare at him thoughtfully as I run my hand through my hair and rack my brains but I still don’t have any idea who he is.
The handsome Aussie laughs.
‘A couple of days ago you asked me for the time. From your balcony,’ he laughs.
‘Oh! That was you?’ I ask. ‘Were you Australian then, too?’
I don’t remember that man being so handsome or having an accent of note, then again I had just woken up and I had a lot on my mind.
‘No, this is just something I’m trying out today to pull chicks,’ he jokes. ‘Yes, of course I was Australian then.’
‘Well, you never know,’ I tease. ‘After all, it says “lifeguard” on your shorts, doesn’t mean you are one.’
‘So you’re looking at my shorts, huh?’ he replies with a wiggle of his eyebrows. ‘I am a genuine lifeguard though. Genuine Australian, genuine lifeguard.’
‘Oh. Sorry,’ I giggle awkwardly.
‘At least I’m wearing shorts,’ he teases, nodding towards my outfit.
‘It’s a long story.’ I sigh. ‘Sometimes I wear clothes.’
‘Only sometimes, huh?’
At this stage in our flirting his dog grows tired of waiting and drops the ball at his master’s feet. Just in case he doesn’t take the hint, the dog barks.