Weddings and Other Things I Hate Read online

  I start to push myself a little faster, then a little more up until I’m matching the pace that we had at the start of the race.

  Lucas seems impressed and easily matches his pace to mine. There are times were ‘Fearful Fiona’ pops her head out from her cave to tell me to ‘slow down’ or ‘give up’ but all I have to do is look at Lucas and I keep going. I’m not going to let him, or me, down.

  As we round another corner, I see the familiar sight of the town square and I know the finish line is approaching. I shout to Lucas to ‘finish strong’ and we both take off in a sprint towards the line.

  I start to cheer with happiness as my feet cross the finish line and we are warmly greeted by our families. They seem to be the only people there.

  “I’m so proud of you,” squeals Helen as she throws her arms around me. I’m winded but I keep my footing so we don’t tumble backwards.

  “You’re so sweaty,” she says, laughing.

  “What do you expect?” I gasp. “You’re dating an athlete, woman, it comes with the territory.”

  I look around to see how the other competitors look, but there are none.

  “Where is everyone?” I ask.

  They all look nervously at each other before my mother finally admits: “Everyone else was back a while ago, love, they’ve gone into the pub to get their refreshments and medals.”

  “Told you we’d make an entrance,” says Lucas, as he tugs at my arm and directs me towards the pub.

  When we open the door, the place is packed. I spot the other racers with medals around their necks and I go off in search of some organisers so I can get ours. I locate a man I recognise from registration, sipping on a pint and laughing with his friends at a table.

  “Excuse me,” I say, shouting above the noise to be heard.

  “Number seventy five!” he replies. “We thought you were dead.”

  He lets out a loud laugh, which I don’t join in with.

  “We like to make an entrance,” I reply. “Can I get a medal for me and my friend?”

  “I’m sorry, love, they’re all gone.”

  “What do you mean they’re all gone? Did you not get enough?”

  “We thought everyone who was going to finish was back so we handed them out to the kiddies who did the family fun run.”

  I look around the room and spot a few small children smiling proudly at their medals.

  “I want my medal,” I say, firmly. “I did not just go through all that not to get a bloody medal.”

  The people at the table all look at me as if I am unhinged and the man shifts in his seat, uncomfortably.

  “I suppose I could take a couple off the kids,” he replies, “but I don’t want to make them upset. They’re kids, after all…”

  They all look at me, waiting to see if I’m really going to demand that someone wrestles two medals from small children.

  “You have my address on the registration form, order two more and send them to us, ok?”

  He nods at my instruction and gets back to drinking his pint. The rest of the table soon go back to ignoring me so I push through the crowd to find Lucas and tell him the bad news.

  Dad managed to get a table for us all in the corner and I spot Siobhan perched on Lucas’ knee, both smiling broadly at each other.

  Helen comes up beside me and hands over a pint of orange dilute while she sips on a white wine.

  “Get those electrolytes replenished,” she says with a smile. “I will drink for the two of us.”

  “Always so considerate,” I reply sarcastically.

  I tell them about the medal situation and Dad has to talk Mum out of marching over to the organisers to complain about their ‘shoddy event’. We finish our drinks and decide to take our celebration to a more exclusive establishment: home.

  As we walk home, I can feel the muscles in the back of my legs tighten and groan with every step.

  “You’ll need to have a bath when you get back,” says Helen, noting my awkward walk.

  I agree and hobble off towards the bathroom as soon as we get through the door. I want to lie there for hours and let the warm water ease my aching joints but I can hear the pop of a champagne bottle from the next room and decide that I can put up with the pain, while drinking a well-deserved glass of bubbly.

  I wrap myself up in fleecy pyjamas and fluffy socks. I catch a glimpse of my reflection and notice that my face is bright red from the exercise and the boiling bath.

  “Looking good, Jane,” I say to the mirror.

  I twist my hair up into a bun and contemplate putting makeup on to tone down the redness in my face but I can’t be bothered. Any other grooming was just keeping me away from the champagne.

  I shuffle out of the bathroom and join the rest of my loved ones who were just about to start singing.

  “A bit early for a sing-a-long,” I say. “Isn’t that usually left for 2am when the drink has run out.”

  “It’s a celebration,” says Siobhan as she raises her glass towards me.”

  Helen hands me a small tumbler of champagne and I realise that I’m the only one without a fancy glass.

  “Excuse me, but why do I have a kiddies glass?” I ask Mum.

  “You’ve broken three of my good glasses since you’ve moved back, your fancy glass privileges have been revoked.”

  I think about objecting but I don’t have the energy, so I sit down beside Helen and rest my feet.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, so she doesn’t disturb my dad’s song.

  I smile and squeeze her hand. I am completely exhausted but so thoroughly pleased with myself for finishing the race. It didn’t matter what time it took, not even ‘Fearful Fiona’ could take the achievement of finishing away from me.

  After Dad finishes his song, Mum clears her throat and we wait for her to begin singing but instead she calls Lucas and me up to the breakfast bar.

  “I’m not singing, Mum,” I say, instantly.

  “Just get up here,” she replies.

  We join her at the bar and she asks us both to close our eyes. I worry that we’re about to get pie in our face but I realise that I’m being paranoid.

  I feel something tug at my hair and when I open my eyes I see that Mum has made us both medals. I look at the paperclip chain with a tinfoil ball stuck to it.

  “I love it” I say and I mean it.

  I look at Lucas who smiles just as enthusiastically as me. They all start to clap for us and I do an awkward curtsy. I keep my medal on for the whole evening, even though the paperclips keep pulling at my hair. When the last of the champagne is gone and no one else feels like singing, we all agree to call it a night.

  My eyes start to get heavy and I’m delighted that I’m close to getting to bed. I help Helen and Siobhan clear up the glasses and take them to the sink.

  “The next celebration will be my hen party,” says Siobhan, with a smile. “Then there’s the pre-wedding shindig, housewarming and I guess then the spotlight will be on you two.”

  Helen and I both laugh at her not-so-subtle way of asking about where our relationship is going.

  “I think we’ll all need a break from parties after all that,” I say. “We’re in no rush.”

  “Precisely,” replies Helen as she gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t put that hetro pressure on us. Jane and I have our whole lives ahead of us and we don’t need a piece of paper to show that we’re committed. No offence, Siobhan... ”

  “None taken, I just want to know what your intentions are with my sister.”

  “My intentions are to love her for as long as she’ll let me, is that ok?”

  “Ok, that’s acceptable,” says Siobhan as she puts the last of the dishes in the sink and leaves to go to bed.

  Helen was about to do the same when I grab her hand to stop her from leaving the room.

  “Did you mean that?” I ask.

  “What? To love you? Of course, it’s a bit late to pretend that this is a casual thing,” she l
aughs.

  “No, about not needing a piece of paper.”

  “Marriage?”

  “Yeah,” I say, feeling the colour rise in my cheeks. “I’m not saying we should do it tomorrow or even in the next few years but I always thought that one day I would.”

  “Oh.”

  It’s not the reply I’m expecting and it catches me off-guard.

  The silence between us extends and I start to panic that this conversation isn’t going to end well.

  She takes my hand in hers and smiles.

  “Jane, I love you but I’d be lying if I said I saw marriage in my future. I’m happy with how things are and I thought you were too.”

  “I am,” I stress. “I just… I don’t know, it surprised me that you don’t want to ever get married.”

  “Why? Because I’m a woman? You don’t exactly strike me as someone who buys into this whole big white wedding malarkey either. You hate being maid-of-honour and all the organising stuff, you tell me all the time.”

  “I think I could manage some enthusiasm for my own wedding.”

  She looks at me quizzically, like I’ve pulled the rug from under her and I’m trying to trap her into a lifetime commitment.

  “Are you saying this is deal-breaker for you?” she asks. “Marriage or nothing?”

  “I’m not saying anything like that. I’m not trying to railroad you into planning the rest of our lives together, I’m just surprised that something like marriage isn’t even worth a conversation.”

  “I don’t want to get married, Jane, not ever. I’m sorry.”

  Her words bruise my heart and I can’t keep the hurt from my face.

  “I love you; I want to spend the rest of my life with you because I honestly believe that this is the love I’ve been waiting for. But I don’t need a certificate to prove that to the world.”

  I take a deep breath and let what she’s saying sink in.

  “I love you too, this isn’t a deal-breaker. It’s you I want to be with, I don’t care.”

  Even as I say the words, I know I’m lying. The thought of never getting married doesn’t sit well with me but I don’t want to lose her over this.

  Would it be so bad not to make it official? At the end of the day, all that matters is that we’re together. That’s enough, isn’t it?

  Chapter 6

  I spent Sunday morning hobbling around the house, much to Helen’s amusement and we both avoided all mention of our conversation from the night before. I think both of us are scared that it will lead to a resolution that neither of us want.

  It’s time for her to pack up and head to Dublin so we both plaster forced smiles on our faces like we aren’t standing at a fork in the road of our future.

  No one seems to have noticed the shift in our relationship so we must be better actresses than I previously thought. It has been a long day of forcing myself to talk and pretend that everything is fine. All I want to do is have some space to think and figure out what I want from the future of our relationship. Usually there’s dread in my stomach at the thought of us going our separate ways for the week, but today I’m itching for her to leave so I can escape to the quiet of my room.

  She picks up on my energy and asks to go for a walk in the forest before she has to drive back. At first we are happy to keep our conversation light and do more pretend bird-watching but it doesn’t take long for Helen to get fed up with the pretence, now that we’re out of earshot of my family.

  “Jane,” she says. “I can’t go back to Dublin knowing I’ve crushed your dreams. I had no idea that marriage was even on your radar, I mean, we haven’t even been out for a year yet.”

  “Does it matter how long we’re going out? Honestly, I didn’t think it really mattered until you said it was never going to happen. Of course I’ve thought about our future, but now I can’t stop thinking about the finality of you completely ruling marriage out.”

  She takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “I could kill Siobhan for even bringing this up. We were great before this.”

  “We still are great,” I assure her. “But I’m glad she did. This is a pretty big thing and if we’re not on the same page then it’s better that we talk about it now and not five years down the line when it’s a much bigger problem.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?” she asks, suddenly.

  “What? No! That’s the last thing I want. We’re having a disagreement but we both want the same thing here: to be together. I wouldn’t throw us away over this; I just want to know you’re open about changing your mind further down the line, that’s all.”

  She thought about what I was saying as I nervously await her answer.

  “I don’t want to lose you and if you want to discuss this in the future, then I guess I’m open to that. I can’t say I’ll definitely change my mind but maybe my resolve will soften with age,” she laughs.

  Her reply didn’t fill me with a lot of confidence but it was progress and it was still early days for us. Maybe after she sees Siobhan in her big white dress she’ll completely change her mind and want to run down the aisle.

  It’s a long shot, but I decide to keep holding onto that.

  We kiss good bye when we return to the house and I wave her off from the driveway. The usual sadness appears as she leaves now that the marriage conversation was out of the way, and I return to the house to avoid Mum and Siobhan. I know they will ask me about our walk and I don’t want to lie about how I’m feeling. They’ll want to help, but right now I just need to rest my legs before work in the morning and stop thinking about a wedding that may or may not ever happen.

  I fall asleep trying to convince myself that I’m the one that will change my mind about marriage and I’ll be happy to live with Helen as life partners, not wives.

  When I wake the next morning, my legs still feel stiff but I’m able to move a bit more freely. I’m sure Thea is going to have a field-day with this and make countless innuendos about my ‘wild sex’ weekend. She never misses an opportunity to do so, despite me categorically telling her that’s never the case.

  I arrive at the office and turn on the computer to find an email from the union rep, Dermot. He wants to see me today instead of tomorrow and I agree. Meetings with Dermot are much more pleasant than the ones with Henry ever were and he was always open to an actual productive conversation as opposed to just fighting with me.

  Despite our quasi-resolution on the topic, I still can’t stop thinking about the ‘marriage’ debate and I feel like it’s hanging over my head like a giant neon sign. I worry that as soon as anyone sees me they’ll know exactly what I’m mulling over.

  Dermot comes into the office within ten minutes of my reply and I’m surprised at how pleased I am to see him. He seems uncomfortable by my friendly demeanour and blushes.

  “You don’t usually smile when you see me,” he says. “It’s nice.”

  “I’m not that bad,” I reply. “I’m glad to get down to work.”

  “On a Monday? I didn’t think anyone felt that way about being back to work after the weekend.”

  “I like to keep busy, that’s all.”

  He doesn’t press me any further and I straighten up and get myself into work-mode so I can stop this relentless overthinking.

  We have a good meeting and resolve a few outstanding grievances that were left behind by Henry. It feels good that I can fix some problems I’m faced with, without spiralling into a crisis.

  Dermot is packing up to leave when I blurt out, “What do you think about marriage?”

  “Are you asking? I feel like we may need to get to know each other first.”

  “I’m sorry, that was such a personal question. Please, just ignore me – I’m obviously losing my mind.”

  He gives me a sympathetic smile and sits back down on his seat.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, honestly, I’m fine. I normally blurt out random, personal questions to all employees. You’ll get used to it,�
� I laugh.

  He doesn’t move, just cocks his head to the side and waits for me to answer properly.

  “My girlfriend isn’t sold on the whole marriage thing and it’s not sitting great with me. I don’t even know why exactly. I didn’t realise I cared that much about it, until I was told I definitely wouldn’t have it with her.”

  “Speaking from someone who was recently dumped because me and my girlfriend had very different ideas of where our relationship was going, I suggest that you sit down and talk to her about it. No point in carrying on and pretending you’re ok with the way you’ve left the conversation if it’s still playing on your mind.”

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your life.”

  “You didn’t; you shared something personal, so did I. We might even become friends,” he says with a dramatic and exaggerated gasp.

  I figure I might as well pry further, now that I’m already down the rabbit-hole.

  “Did you not want to get married? Was that the disagreement on the future?”

  “Not quite,” he replies. “I saw our future with just the two of us, while she saw it with us and a couple of other guys she was seeing behind my back. Call me old fashioned, but I like just the two people in a monogamous relationship.”

  I feel awful for asking now and it instantly shows on my face.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m over it. Well, mostly. I might still stalk her Facebook page from time to time, but I threw out the voodoo doll. I’m told that’s progress.”

  He flashes me a knowing smile before he leaves the office and I try to get back to work.

  By lunchtime I’m looking forward to getting out of the office and the change of scenery but I haven’t heard anything from Thea. Normally she would have called by the office before now so I go to investigate in the sales department.

  I meet her line manager, who tells me Thea is out sick and my heart sinks. I dig out my phone and quickly text to ask how she is. When I don’t hear back from her instantly I realise that she’s not faking it and must be resting. I toy with the idea of going to the burrito bar by myself but I settle for a tasteless sandwich from the shop next door.