Chapter Thirty-One Carys
Excerpt from podcast Rox’ Docs, interview between Dawson Roxford and Cobey Worthing
ROX So what’s your real opinion about Zack then? Between friends?
COBEY He’s not good enough for Lina. I don’t think I am either, but I wouldn’t make her this sad. She looks so sad.
ROX You know what would fix that? Surfing.
COBEY Not sure even surfing could fix that, mate.
‘And what do we think, ladies?’ calls Karina, as I walk out in my dream wedding dress.
It’s a modern take on a Regency wedding dress.
The waistline has been dropped from directly under the breasts to the top of my waist and the sleeves end just at my elbows tied with little bows.
The back closes with pearl buttons. I’ve seen this dress in pictures online for years, and I knew I wanted it.
I can’t quite believe that the show agreed to work with the designer and bring the dress to the fake filmset shop we’re all sitting in, so that I could wear it.
It is perfect. I only wish I felt the same.
The room explodes with excitement, most of the noise generated by my sisters.
My mum didn’t come. She and Dad promised to come to the wedding, but she seemed to think this was a bit of a pointless exercise when nothing was legal.
Just like they often don’t get me, to be honest. Normally I wouldn’t mind but I’m in a room filled with mothers and daughters.
But my beloved sisters are here, whooping and hollering and crying all at once.
Whit gives a good ‘Yeah, babe!’
‘Do a spin!’ calls Bridget, who has already chosen her slinky ice-white silk dress.
I acquiesce, and I feel like a princess, until I stop spinning.
The women who I am pretty sure actually do work for a bridal shop help me back to the changing room and make notes for my adjustments – everything always needs to be taken up, even if I’m planning to wear heels.
They leave me alone for a minute to put my normal clothes back on, and I take a second to try to breathe.
God, how did everything go so wrong so quickly?
First, there was that horrible meeting with Patrick’s parents.
I’m not sure they could have been more obvious that they don’t like me, don’t approve of what I do, and wish he was still with Peony.
He tried to reassure me that they’ll come round, but how am I supposed to win over people who clearly hated me before they met me?
I’ve been trying that dance all my life, and I know precisely how far my skill extends.
I can sway unsure, I can reassure confused. I cannot ever bring back pure dislike.
Second, I found out that Patrick had, in fact, texted Peony the minute he’d got his phone back to let her know that he was engaged.
I don’t know if she ever replied, but his parents took great pleasure (thankfully off camera) in letting Patrick (read: me) know that she was distraught about the whole situation.
‘Carys?’ calls Reb, her hand waggling the curtain. ‘Are you alright? Do you need a hand?’
‘Yes and no,’ I sigh, pulling my dress over my head. ‘Sorry, I just needed a moment.’
‘Okay.’ I hear her hover outside the cubicle. ‘Are you crying?’
I put my fingertips to my cheek and find that I am, in fact, crying. ‘Oh. Yeah.’
‘Do you want me to get your sisters?’
‘No. It’s alright,’ I say quickly.
If Ang and Del come in here, it’ll all come out. I’m glad that they could come today, I really am. But I feel like my chest is a Pandora’s jar (no, it wasn’t a box) threatening to burst open with all the feelings I’m cramming in there.
Horrible imagery, really.
I have to mask for the camera and for all the other contestants, and that means my sisters too.
To be honest, everyone feels a little off today. Maybe it’s just the presence of family. While Bridget is decidedly ecstatic, she has toned down quite how many swear words she uses, and chatters away with her mum in Welsh.
Whit sits upright with the posture of a ballerina.
Dolly, who looks much healthier than when I last saw her, claps along politely but sits alone. I wonder where her mum is. We haven’t spoken yet today but I can’t imagine her being fazed about being here solo. She’s much more independent than me.
And Lina… well, I can’t work out what is going on with her.
Her mother, a tiny and very enthusiastic Asian lady who kissed me on the cheeks when I said hello, seems to be putting on a good show, but I see the concern in her eyes when Lina is off camera.
I tried to talk to Lina about the fight, but she brushed me off.
‘The last thing I need is Mammy knowing my husband hit someone,’ she sighed, and I really, really wanted to say isn’t that a bad sign but then it was her turn to try on dresses.
And then there’s me, wondering if Dolly has been right all along about Patrick still being in love with his ex. I don’t doubt that he’s falling in love with me, because he’s said it a few times. I have strong feelings for him too. But still the spectre of the other woman hangs over me.
The tears run harder now and I realise, in the detached way you might if you have cut yourself by accident at some point, that I’m really upset.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ I mutter, looking for something to dry my eyes with, but there’s only a row of fabric samples hanging from the hook and I really do not think they will take kindly to me using those as a hankie.
‘Do you need a drink of water or something?’ Reb asks, running through the list of things that she can feasibly do.
‘A tissue, please,’ I sniffle.
Reb slips back into the room with a box of tissues. ‘They’re well stocked in here. I guess people are always crying.’
I blow my nose so loudly it makes my ears pop.
‘Go on, girl, get it out,’ Reb says. ‘I didn’t think you had a sound like that in you.’
It makes me laugh, despite everything.
‘Wedding jitters?’ she asks, perching on the stool. ‘It’s very normal. It’s a big decision.’
‘Not just that,’ I say, feeling my tongue loosen. Hell, if there’s anyone I can tell, who might be able to help me out in this situation, it’s Reb. Maybe she can find out what Patrick’s been saying to his handler? Maybe she can help me find out about Peony?
Maybe she could help me call it off.
‘Patrick’s been texting his ex-girlfriend,’ I tell her, and her eyes widen just a little.
‘Ah. Shit.’
‘Yeah.’
Reb sucks her teeth. ‘And she’s still around? Is he actively in a relationship with her? Have you seen her around the apartments?’
I frown slightly because none of these are things I’d even considered possible. Why does she think he’s capable of that? ‘No, he’s not,’ I insist.
‘Okay, don’t get freaked out,’ she says, apparently seeing how freaked out I am. ‘Just protocol. I have to ask you that in case it’s, you know, a security issue.’
‘I’m just upset.’
‘Of course you are. Do you want to talk to the therapist about it? I can get you an appointment for later today, before we film the drinks tonight.’
‘What—’ My mouth goes dry. ‘What if I didn’t want to do it anymore?’
Her eyebrows meet. ‘You mean, get married?’
I don’t answer.
‘That’s what the altar is for,’ she says, her voice taking on a firmer tone. ‘If either of you decide that you don’t want to take it any further, you can just stop at the vows and leave the relationship there. That’s built into the show for you.’
Her words are straight out of the Wedded Bliss handbook.
‘And if I didn’t want to even go through with the wedding?’ It comes out as a whisper.
Reb presses her lips together. ‘Carys, there’s a contract.
The agreement is that you’d stay until the end, once you’re engaged, unless the show decides to let you go.
I… I think it would be wise to stick things through,’ she says slowly.
‘For Patrick,’ she adds hastily, though I have no idea how humiliating him at the altar would be in his best interests.
Something sinks in my stomach. It’s clear that if I struggle now, the show is not here for me. They want that. That’s what makes good television. I can’t help but wonder if Lina has tried to have similar conversations with her handler.
I’m sad that it means Reb and I aren’t real friends. I’m always misjudging that.
Still, we’ve got the rest of the day to film so I plaster on a brave smile.
‘Sorry, I really don’t want to leave. I just…
wanted…’ I shrug and can see the slightly silly face I’m pulling in the mirror, like oh gosh I’m so random aren’t I.
‘I guess I got carried away. And no, thank you for the offer, but I don’t need to speak to a therapist. The good cry helped. ’
‘Sure,’ Reb says, not meeting my eyes as she leaves.
I smooth out the fuzzed edges of my makeup with my little finger, and remember to slip my mask back on as I follow after her.
When I walk back into the dressing room, Dolly steps up onto the dais in a figure-hugging, off-the-shoulder cream dress in draped satin.
She takes my breath away. Her slicked-back hair gives it a harder look, and I can imagine a vintage leather jacket draped over her shoulders.
I imagine a different world where she stands waiting for me, clutching a bouquet in her hands.
Her scarlet lips breaking into a smile as she sees me walking towards her.
I take the first seat I find, which happens to be right behind Whit’s mum, a woman wrapped in a beautiful silk scarf and a cloud of heavenly perfume.
‘God, she looks incredible,’ Whit’s mum says to her daughter, and she’s right.
She tilts her head closer to Whit. ‘Where’s her mum, though? Did she not want to be filmed?’
Whit says, ‘Oh, Dolly’s mum’s disabled. She’s very sick, and can’t easily leave the house, so she’s saving her energy for the proper wedding instead. They’re very close, so I think she’s missing her.’ I feel my world crack in half.
‘Poor girl. It’s hard to be without your mother on a day like this.’
‘Yeah. She’s her main carer too, so I know she’s been worrying the whole time. I think meeting Warren went well, at least. It’s just hard.’
‘I understand. Could they not Zoom her in?’
Whit shakes her head. ‘Production got a bit weird about it.’
Whit’s mum’s posture stiffens. ‘The wankers. Here, let me go take some good pictures of Dolly in her dress for her mum.’
Whit’s mum gets up, and I see Whit spot me out of the corner of her eye, a flash of panic as she realises I might have overheard what I suspect is a secret.
It’s not something Dolly trusted me with herself.
I get up and walk quickly to the bathroom.
Responsibilities. That’s what Dolly had said, hadn’t she?
That was why she was here. It wasn’t just wanting a good cover story for why we couldn’t be together.
She wasn’t just rejecting me for her career; she was rejecting me for her mum.
This whole time I just thought the worst of her, when she was trying to support her family.
I pushed her and I pushed her and I was so fucking set that of course she couldn’t trust me with the truth of her family life. But Whit can’t know her almost marriage is fake. It was smart of Dolly to give people only half the story.
I can barely look my mirror self in the eye. I take big gulps of the metallic too-warm tap water, and try not to cry again.
I’ve spent all this time trying to be a version of me that I don’t even recognise.
The only person who could break through and show me who I am is Dolly.
She saw through all my masks; autistic and straight and all the other parts of me I was squashing down.
She saw me. And I didn’t take the time to see her.
God, I’m such a fucking idiot.
I’ve pushed her away.
I’ve ignored all the warning signs with Patrick, even though I adore him.
And now I’m crying in a bridal shop, realising I might have fucked up my life.