Chapter 4
4
T he eastern suburbs were overcast, the skies thick with dreary purple clouds blocking out the sun.
“Perfect for photos,” Willow announced to all who’d listen before joining Patrick at the altar. “Zero chance of rain.”
It was warm, though, and Cheryl was sweating slightly in her satin dress. Eden stood beside her, dutifully fanning her face with a paper fan as they waited at the church entrance for Sharon Walker.
“She’ll be here any second, Bernie,” Eden said, fanning harder. “Any second.”
Cheryl was too scared to talk, but she nodded vigorously. The accessibility van they’d hired for her mum was stuck in traffic, so an old-fashioned wedding delay was taking place. It didn’t matter… only today, everything seemed to matter.
She’d woken at 3am and been unable to get back to sleep. She’d barely choked down a muesli bar, and she was still so nervous she was vibrating from head to foot. Luckily, Eden was content to let her listen to podcasts while they had their hair and make-up done. Eden chatted away with everyone and let Cheryl know where the boys were and how they were feeling.
“Patrick’s the most chipper groom Willow’s ever seen,” Eden had told her repeatedly. “He’s more nervous than Psycho is.”
Cheryl only had one bridesmaid, Eden, so Patrick only had one groomsman. To stop his brothers from fighting over the top spot, Willow, Patrick’s closest friend, had gotten the job. He’d never been a best man before, and he was lording it over everyone in the most adorable way possible. But it was also cute that he and Eden were paired together, that they could spend the whole night next to each other instead of siloed on different tables.
Her one regret was that her mum hadn’t helped her get ready.
“I’ll leave that to Patrick’s mother and Eden,” she’d said.
“I love you, but you’re breaking my heart!” Patrick’s niece Cleo shouted at Eden’s daughter, Jupiter.
The flower girls were growing restless while waiting around. Eden stopped fanning Cheryl to mediate the argument. She watched as her best friend bent to talk to the little girls, painfully beautiful in their gold dresses and shoes. Beside them, Patrick’s nephews John and Clancy shared a Nintendo, oblivious to everything around them. Cheryl wondered if anyone would take the console away from them before they performed their page boy duties, but it didn’t really matter.
She hadn’t seen Patrick for two days—a Normal family tradition. He’d been staying at a hotel with Willow and his brothers, texting her funny anecdotes and silly reels almost every hour. The church doors were closed, but Cheryl couldn’t help glancing at them, hoping for a glimpse of her almost-husband. Even more than getting married, she just wanted to be near him again. Feel that sense of calm that only Patrick could provide. She reminded herself of what he’d said in the pool after their kitten play adventure— this isn’t what actually being married will be like. That had gotten her through the rest of the wedding planning and the forty-eight hours of separation. It wasn’t forever, just for now.
“Sorted,” Eden said, rushing back and immediately resuming her fanning. “Kids, hey?”
Cheryl nodded blankly. She’d just spotted a big white van, and her chest contracted like an accordion.
“Shit, she’s here!” Eden said, tossing her fan aside. “I’ll go get her. You stay here and try not to sweat.”
“’Kay,” Cheryl croaked.
She watched as her mother slowly descended from the van in her wheelchair. She was wearing a sapphire blue suit and a hat with a full veil, which she insisted she was keeping on the entire time.
“Hey, Ms Walker!” Eden rushed up to her mum, cigarettes in hand. She lit one, lifted the bottom of Cheryl’s mum’s veil and transferred it directly to her lips.
“Eden,” Sharon Walker said, puffing deeply. “You’re worth your weight in gold.”
Eden cackled in her Eden way, and Cheryl felt a now-familiar stab of regret that her best friend had only known her mother for a little over a year. Her mum had never wanted to meet her friends. She loved the stories Cheryl told her but refused to let anyone see her ALS-gripped body, the disease slowly warping her voice and her hands and face.
But they could have had years , Cheryl thought as Eden wheeled her still-smoking mum toward the church. They could have loved each other longer.
But that was the same as her and Patrick. She’d spent almost nine years pushing him away, telling herself he was too young when, really, she was too scared. As Eden rolled her mother forward, Cheryl knew there was nothing for it. Sometimes, you just had to live with your pride and the mistakes it caused.
But there’s still time. There’s today.
As her mum got closer, Cheryl had to hold her breath. She wanted to tell her how amazing and beautiful and brave she was but knew it would only piss her off.
“Hi, Mum,” she managed to say. “Glad you made it.”
“I did my best,” her mother said around Eden’s cigarette. “Now, don’t you look fabulous?”
It might have seemed casual, even passive-aggressive, to an observer, but Cheryl could hear how hard her Mum was trying not to cry. So she clasped her tulle and satin and did a little twirl. “Thanks. Vera Wang.”
Her mother’s veil twitched. “You’re the light of my life. My reason for being born.”
Cheryl felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. “Mum…”
“No,” Sharon said in a hard voice. “I’m dying, so I get to say what I like. It was all worth it. All of it. Seeing you here today, knowing you’re marrying someone who deserves you. I feel like I’ve done my duty by you, CeeCee. I know that whatever happens, you’ll be loved.”
Cheryl felt fresh tears prickling, threatening her bridal make-up. “It would never have been enough. A hundred years isn’t long enough to love you.”
“Jesus,” Eden croaked. “Shut the fuck up, you two.”
Cheryl laughed, and so did her mum as the priest’s assistant appeared, flustered and fanning himself with a pamphlet. “Ladies, are we ready to start?”
“Yes,” Eden said, dabbing her eyes. “We’re ready.”
Cheryl and her mum waited together. The XX’s ‘Angels’ began to play, and Cheryl heard everyone in the church get to their feet. It was a song she and Patrick had loved for as long as they’d known each other and had both unknowingly played at night when they were lovesick and longing to be close.
Eden directed the kids into the church, swiping at her cheeks as she went.
“Goddammit, Bernie,” she said as Jupiter scampered down the aisle, tossing petals. “There’s not gonna be a dry eye in the house today.”
“Good,” her mum said firmly. “Let them weep.”
Cackling, Eden took her position and began step-walking down the aisle.
Cheryl watched her go, her heart so tight it felt like it would burst. It wasn’t just her Mum that she needed a hundred years to love; it was all of them. Patrick, Eden, Willow, Jupiter, everyone . She wanted infinite Christmases and Sunday brunches and panicked phone calls and midnight glasses of wine. She needed them. Why didn’t she get to keep her mother? Her friends? Why couldn’t she have her hundred years? Why were the curtains being drawn even as she and her mum waited together?
“You nervous, CeeCee?” her mother whispered.
“Yeah,” Cheryl said. Eden was almost at the altar, and her time was coming. The reality of it almost too much to take.
“Well, then,” her mum said. “I’d better do you a favour…”
Sharon Walker pulled her veiled hat from her head and tossed it clumsily onto the floor of the church steps.
“That’s good,” she said. “Much better airflow.”
Cheryl stared at her mother’s face, and something close to ecstasy coursed through her veins. She wanted to grab the moment and break it to stop it from finishing.
“Mum,” she whispered. “I can’t….”
Her mother gave her a fierce look, and it seemed to Cheryl that she was every inch the woman she’d been twenty years ago—tall, beautiful, and fearless.
“Look at Patrick,” her mum whispered. “He’s waiting for you.”
Almost against her will, Cheryl obeyed, looking down the aisle to where Patrick waited, breathtaking in his suit, his handsome face shining like the sun.
“Oh God…” she said. “God…”
“Not God,” her mum said firmly. “ Us. Let’s go, my sweet love. It’s time.”
“But—”
“Shhh. You’ll ruin your make-up.”
“But—”
“You’ll ruin your make-up and make me cry in front of all these rich assholes. Is that what you want?”
Cheryl laughed and fanned her face with her free hand. “I just can’t believe this is happening…”
“I can. Everything is exactly as it should be. So, let’s go get you married.”
She didn’t say, ‘I love you.’ She didn’t say, ‘I’ll always be here for you.’ But Cheryl knew she meant both things as she took her mother’s warm, twisted hand and held it like it was the last thing on earth. She moved onto the carpet that would take her to Patrick Normal and her future and thought of something. A new version of the mantra she’d repeated her whole life.
I can’t control whether things get better or worse, but thank you, God, for today.
“What?” her mother asked.
“Nothing, Mum.”
All around the church, faces were turning toward her. Cheryl felt herself extend up and outward, glowing brighter than she ever had before. Not for herself but for all of them—all the people she loved and who loved her right back.
“I adore you,” she said to Sharon Walker. “Let’s go get me married.”
The End