Blasted (43 page)

Gil and Blue burst in as I was draining my second. “Hello, hello!”

I slipped the empty bottles down between the sofa cushions. “Hi.”

“Why aren't you dressed?” Gil stared at me with horror.

“It's over an hour before we leave,” Blue said to him.

“Dressed?” I asked.

“For the wedding, the wedding! The ceremony is at four!”

“Oh.” I looked at Gil, then at Blue. “What time is it?”

A glance passed between them and it occurred to me that my all-day sleeping, not to mention my nights out, had been a source of discussion. “Two,” Gil said. “I'm going to get dressed now myself. Got to make sure we don't let the side down. We've got an important role to fill – the Gay Couple Friends.”

“What does that make me?” I asked. “The Straight Single Girl Whom Everyone Pities and Hopes Will Find a Man at the Wedding?”

Gil laughed and disappeared into their bedroom. Blue sat across from me, stretching out his legs. He looked at me in his searching way. “I had a bad conversation with my grandfather, okay?” I snapped.

“What happened?”

“I don't feel like talking about it.”

“You look…” He stared at me almost like Brendan did when he was painting, impersonal, concentrated. “Drained. Sucked dry.”

“Don't say things like that.” I turned away so he couldn't see the tears in my eyes. “Well. I guess I should get dressed.”

“Are you coming to the bar to hear Tad's band later, after the reception?” “Oh, I guess so.” I'd forgotten this: Tad and Judith were having an after-party at their favourite bar, and Tad's band Sonic Rival would be playing.

“Good.”

Gil called him from the bedroom. Blue stood, squeezed my shoulder, then disappeared into the room and shut the door. I heard his voice and Gil's, and laughter; evidently Gil was parading around in inappropriate attire. As no doubt I would be too: I had no clothes to wear to a goddamned wedding. I barely knew my own name right now. I took another beer from the fridge and went into my own room to change.

After much dithering, and finishing the beer, I put on a clean pair of black jeans, combed my hair, and emerged back out into the living room. Blue and Gil were already there, looking fabulous in suits. Gil took one horrified look at me and burst out, “You're not going like
that
.”

“What? No, no, back off.” He was moving toward me, hands twitching. “We've got to do something with that hair… and these clothes… what's the role you said you were playing?”

“Scruffy Friend with No Fashion Sense.” His hands were in my hair.

“No!”

“You must have something dressier than this, and with your hair up – very classical.”

“You are such a queen.”

“Yes. All we need is some eyeliner,” he said.

“Well, I don't have any makeup.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Blue laughed.

“And the only dress I own is black. Except the one that belonged to my grandmother and it doesn't fit me.”

“Let me see it,” Gil demanded.

I retrieved Gramma's dress from a drawer and shook it out, the scent of old fabric wafting from the folds.

Gil stroked it. “It's
beautiful
.”

“Yes.”

“Can I see it on you?”

“No.”

I put it on.

“The bias cut of these vintage dresses is so fabulous...”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“How'd you feel about altering it slightly?”

“Altering it how?” I asked.

“Well… we could lose those cap sleeves, they're really too precious for you. And shorten the dress by about a foot.” He dragged me to a mirror and started tucking and plucking and gathering fabric in his careful hands. “What a beautiful shade of rose.”

“Ugh, it's peach.”

“Ruby. This is not peach. This is dusty rose. You'd look like hell in peach.”

“Dusty what?” I didn't know how I felt about altering Gramma's dress. What if we wrecked it?

“These beads and sequins… Oh, you'd look wonderfully funky. Can I alter it, please?”

“But…”

“Dearest,” said Blue, “you can't go to a formal wedding in jeans. Not even you.”

“Yes, I
can
,” I grumped. “You two are ganging up on me.”

Blue crossed his arms. “Gil's right, Ruby. Dress good. Jeans bad.”

I let Gil alter the dress.

He took off the sleeves and hemmed the armholes by hand. He decided we didn't have time to shorten the skirt, and instead gathered a discarded sleeve into a rosette and ruched one side of the skirt under it at the hip. Blue ran out to Shopper's Smug Smart and came back with something called liquid eyeliner and mascara. Gil did something with my hair and a couple of elastics, then drew long lines on my upper eyelids, followed by mascara. Then he made me get into the dress, close my eyes – “Oh, come off it!” – and led me to the full-length mirror.

“You can look now.”

I opened my eyes and stared. My hair was piled on my head with a few wavy tendrils artfully hanging down; my eyes stood out, dramatic. When I moved the dress floated magically with me. Even my mother would have been satisfied. I scowled so they wouldn't see I was pleased.

“You're transformed,” Blue said.

As soon as the ceremony was over I shot from my seat like a bat out of hell.

It had been a church ceremony, and we were having an early dinner in the large church hall. The cavernous space was filled with several round tables, each set with little name cards. I hunted while everyone else lingered with friends exclaiming over how lovely the ceremony had been, oh her dress and
with this ring I thee wed
, so on and so forth. I searched first one table, then another, shuffling sideways in circles.

Where the hell was my card? My circles became faster, more furtive. Maybe my name wasn't here at all.

The first people were appearing in the doorway before I found my place, at the last table I checked. I was seated in the outer reaches, with a collection of names I barely recognized. All male. Jeff; wasn't he Tad's cousin with the drinking problem? And Darren, he was Judith's ne'er-do-well friend from university whom I'd once met at a party… Zed, the pizza delivery and pot dealing buddy… Cold horror dawned.

I'd been seated at the last table, the table of Embarrassing Bachelor Friends.

I plucked my name card from the tablecloth. I strode across the room to a table near the wedding party, one where I'd seen Steve's name. I found a card with a name I didn't recognize, moved it to the embarrassing buddy table, and put my card in its place. And sat down, shivering. They'd probably meant well, they'd probably thought I'd be more comfortable with a bunch of immature, substance-abusing party guys than at a
real
people's table. At the ceremony the minister had made us all stand in a circle and hold hands.
This great ring of mystery in which we all take part, that takes in the whole of existence, life and death. You are all witnesses to their vow…
Except I'd been consigned to the outer reaches with the other drunks. They'd probably talked it over – maybe Judith had said, It'll give Ruby a chance to meet a new guy – thanks for the favour, Judith.

Here came her parents. Judith's step-mother wore the highest heels I had ever seen on a human foot; her father was tall, with Judith's smile. I wasn't angry. That was good; no one should be angry at a fucking wedding.
With these rings we make the invisible visible: The Vow. And all here are joined in the endless ring of Unity
.

Probably they were afraid I'd embarrass them at their wedding. Do something loud and self-centred and stupid.
The gift of rings celebrates the divine love that is greater than the two.
They'd found a woman minister, and she'd had a great, ringing voice. So had Judith, and Tad too, once he'd found his courage halfway through the ceremony.
To have and to hold. Until death do us part.

Something scared and brilliant hardened inside me, something wild. I picked up the full wineglass set at my place and let the liquid roll over my tongue and down my throat, a flare of warmth and sourness. I sat, twiddling the glass stem between my fingers, staring at the tablecloth while the room filled up with guests.

A shadow fell over me – Steve. He was turned away from me, little ponytail bobbing as he spoke to a rail-thin woman at his side: another of Steve's blonde girlfriends. The scent of hairspray wafted every time she tossed her head, which was often. Steve pulled out her chair and sat her down like she hadn't the use of her legs. She gazed up at him and giggled. I finished the rest of my wine, then leaned forward and stuck my hand out in greeting.

“Hi, I'm Ruby.”

“Oh, hi. I'm Honey.”

“Sorry?”

“Honey.”

“You certainly are,” I said. Her eyes slid over to Steve, and she giggled. “That's her
name
, Ruby,” he said.

“Ah,” I replied, and stared at my own fingers gripping the delicate stem of my glass. I gritted my teeth in a smile. “It's really too bad my friend isn't sitting with us,” I heard myself saying, gesturing over to where Blue and Gil were seated. “Then we could be three little coloured nouns in a row. Blue-y and Ruby and Honey, wouldn't that be adorable?”

“I'll be right back, Honey. Shut up, Ruby.” Steve started to walk away, then said to me without turning to look, “And sit in your chair properly.”

Honey turned her empty gaze on me. Her eyes flickered over my body. “What a cute outfit.”

“Thanks.”

“You're so brave, wearing an old dress like that.” She tossed her hair. “Are you an artist?”

“No,” I said, feeling suddenly shabby. “No. I'm just a hanger-on.” She giggled. I took a deep breath. “So, Honey. You're the latest one?”

“What?” She couldn't seem to stop smiling.

“Steve's latest –” I coughed into my hand. “Pretty big step, going to a wedding with a boyfriend, isn't it? Kind of suggestive. Have you been seeing him long?”

“No, not long.” She was still smiling.

“No,” I mused. “It couldn't have been more than a month, because before that he was seeing… What
was
her name?”

“It's been two months,” she said, and as I looked sideways at her I saw the smile had finally vanished. Steve reappeared and eased himself into the chair between us. He looked at Honey, her little hands twisting together. “How's Honey?” he asked jovially. She didn't look up. He looked at me. I shrugged.

I caught the odd phrase from their whispered conversation: “You told me it was over with her!” and “How could you!” Steve kept up a soothing tone. Honey got up and, head down, went to the bathroom. Steve glared at me.

“Girl trouble?” I asked.

“I swear to God I'll… what did you say to her?”

“To her? Nothing. Nice fucking wedding, right, that sort of thing.”

He glared some more. “Really, I didn't say a thing. Honest to God.” Honey returned and the whispers resumed.

I soon ceased to worry whether anyone would force me to move. No one really cared where I sat; they had other things on their minds. I kept an eye on the embarrassing bachelor table and saw a somewhat confused-looking older gentleman take his place with the Zeds, Darrens, and Jeffs; but they were soon conversing like old friends. By the time the happy union arrived, I had gotten a refill and drained that glassful too. “How did Tad and Judith spring for all this?” I asked Steve, but he ignored me.

Waiters glided around refilling every empty glass in sight; I had only to say, “Could you –?” and like magic the golden elixir was poured for me. My lips felt pleasantly numb and my body began to glow. Courses came and went. I tried to talk to Steve, but something seemed to have been resolved between him and Honey, for they were holding hands and she had laid her head on his shoulder, so I turned and beamed at the room at large. The hall was beginning to light up with periodic flashes; every table had disposable cameras on them. Then I remembered: I hadn't yet spoken to the couple. Reaching out and grabbing a camera, I put it to my eye and found them through the viewer. “Hey, guys, great wedding,” I shouted, hiccoughing, and when they looked my way yelled, “Surprised to see me?” and snapped a shot. Judith tossed her head and laughed, and Tad looked adoringly at her. I took another picture, then threw down the camera and drank more wine. I realized that my lips were still stretched in a tight smile and I massaged my face, trying to look normal again. I waved my glass at the nearest waiter. “Better just leave us the bottle,” I said, and felt somewhat chagrined when he merely chuckled and refilled my glass.

I talked more than I ate through dinner, to anyone within earshot, even Honey. And all the time the hard thing in me pulsed, transforming from shame to a kind of brilliant, pleasurable, unsteady rage. By the time it came around to the blessed cake cutting, I could tell myself I was actually feeling happy. I tried to catch Tad and Judith's eyes but they were engulfed in relatives. “Brendan. Hey, Brendan!” I tried to get his attention but he didn't hear me. “Hey!” No one paid any attention to me, as if I were not with them at all, as if I alone was pinned under a bell jar. “Hey, guys! When's dessert?” I scowled. The room felt hot.

The white, the black, the billowing fabric spun and whirled. I couldn't focus my eyes. My friends had disappeared, they had been taken over by Bride and Groom. Steve still loomed in the chair next to me. I clutched his arm; it was reassuringly solid. “Hey, Steve?” He looked down at me. “When's dessert?”

He wrapped his hand around my wineglass and tried to take it away from me. “Don't you think you've had enough to drink?”

I sucked in my breath. “Fuck you.”

“Take it easy.”