Beautiful Chaos
The day slowly turned into a whirlwind of chaos.
The rest of the bridesmaids rushed around the bride; Chantelle was already tipsy—I thought after last night she’d swear off alcohol for at least a few days.
Everyone constantly wanted something from me; was I a walking, browsing search page or simply an encyclopaedia?
Outside the weather defied the forecast, threatening rain on what was supposed to be a sunny day.
Guests began to arrive, some early, some late, adding to the mounting pressure.
The wedding coordinator, bless her, flushed each time at the sight of my agitated mother.
I guess she wouldn’t be getting a five-star review from this family, poor thing.
“Rings! Where are the rings?” a voice crackled through her walkie-talkie.
“Please, someone find me the best man,” she muttered back.
“Oh my God! Florence, is it really you?” Suddenly I was approached by a woman. She was tall and blonde and pretty and I had absolutely no idea who she was, but by the strong grip of her tight embrace, I assumed we could be blood-related. “God, it’s been so long.”
“Um, yeah,” I barely managed; my lungs urgently needed oxygen. When they finally got some, I took a few breaths before I could finally speak again. “Wow,” I chuckled nervously. Shit, who the hell was that? “You haven’t changed a bit!”
“Really?” She shot back a laugh. Well, I had no freaking clue.
“When was the last time we saw each other?” Please give me a hint. At least something.
“At this point who can even tell.” Great!
“Right.” I stared blankly at her. Hmm, ask her something else.
Name would be great, perhaps. But that would be my last resort.
Ask her about her life. Yes! Kids maybe?
But what if she doesn’t have one? Um, maybe her other half?
Surely it came up in one of the dinner conversations from the past two weeks.
I could just connect the dots between them.
“So,” full of hope, I began, “how is your special one, you guys still making each other’s hearts race these days? ”
Her expression changed, not a trace of a smile left on her face. “Excuse me, what?” Shit! What did I say?
“Caroline?” My father’s voice broke out from behind me.
“There you are. I’m so glad you could come.
And God, I was so sorry to hear about Bertram.
” Caroline? My cousin Caroline? Right. The one whose fiancé died from heart failure just a few days ago.
Ugh! Well done, Florence. I shut my eyes in embarrassment.
Grabbing the moment while these two exchanged their tight embraces, I quietly sneaked into the crowd. “Shit!”
Soon I found myself in the kitchen, catching my breath and my mother mixing a few valerian root drops with water. “Mum?” I stared at her.
“That awful woman—” She meant a wedding coordinator.
“—sat your grandmother three rows away from the altar.” She quickly downed the glass of remedy, immediately wincing at the unpleasant earthy taste.
“God knows, just give your grandmother the slightest reason, and hearing her complain about chair seating and every other mistake I’ve ever made in my life will be endless!
” Hmm, so karma was a bitch, and apparently today she was on my side.
“That woman blames me even for being born! She hates me!”
“You know that’s not true, Mum.” I took a step closer, glancing at her. “She is just…er…demanding.” Like you.
“And how hard can it be to follow simple instructions for a job you claim to be the best at, the very job you’re hired and paid to do? Thankfully, I caught that disastrous mistake just in time.”
“Mum,” I said softly, but her eyes widened even more, her gaze darting somewhere over my shoulder.
“Wonderful, here comes Aunt Roberta.” She grabbed my hands at once, muttering her words quickly. “Please, Florence, I beg you, immediately go upstairs and lock my jewellery box. Or better, hide the whole thing inside my closet.”
“Oh, there you two are!” A gravelly voice cut through the air, a strong, overwhelmingly sweet odour instantly filling my nostrils to the point that I might actually be sick again.
“Roberta, darling.” My mother mustered a beam. “How great to see you!”
Holding my breath for as long as I could, I turned to greet my aunt. A bright coral smile stretched across her lips as she pulled me into her tight, suffocating embrace, and thank God it was tight because I nearly lost my balance there.
“Say hi to Johnny Parris,” she said, finally letting me go; the nausea, however, still kept its hold on me.
“Um…” I forced a smile, palm clutching at my stomach. God, please, not here, not now.
“Come on, give him a pat,” she insisted, expectantly looking at me.
What was that smell? I suddenly caught another whiff of…
oh, God, no. A mix of wet fur and something far worse.
Please, please, please. I don’t want to touch him.
And before the little beast, already sniffing my legs, could reveal the amorous tendencies Jo warned me all about, I quickly gave him a rub and choked out, “Sorry,” while running to the bathroom as fast as my legs would carry me. “Emergency upstairs!”
The moment I inhaled the intoxicatingly fresh, stench-free air, a wave of relief washed over me.
One thing I knew for sure: I needed to keep clear of Aunt Roberta and her little beast friend.
So, as my mother asked, I headed upstairs.
Not only did I lock her jewellery box and hide it in the closet, but I also locked the whole room.
***
As more and more guests arrived, the more hugs and kisses and small talk I had to endure.
And even with all the chaos around me, there was a certain magic in the air.
The gentle music in the background, the perfectly pressed linens, the centrepieces, neatly arranged shiny crystal waiting to be filled with champagne.
It might have been messy, but it was a beautiful mess, reminding everyone of the real reason they’d gathered.
“Did you manage to get through to Father Kristian?” A voice cracked through the loud chatter.
“Melanie, oh, you look fabulous, darling,” my mother said somewhere to my left.
“What a little nasty dog!” I heard Louis mutter with a scowl in his striking French accent. Oh, no! Johnny Parris was having an enthusiastic moment with my mother’s poor ottoman chair.
“I was so, so sad to hear about Bertram’s passing,” someone said right in front of me, making me forget the dog and quickly make a U-turn.
All of a sudden I heard a name I was looking forward to—Aaron.
Well, I didn’t even know what he looked like but when I locked my eyes with a stranger whose eyes seemed to be just like his— so, Aaron .
He was, um, yeah…all the reasons to lose your virginity on the very first night you met him.
“Wow!” I breathed, remembering Chantelle’s description of the man; I thought I couldn’t have said it better than her. Well done, Josephine.
“Florence?” I immediately turned to find my father standing behind me. “Can you do me a favour?”
“Um, sure.”
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Oh,” I smiled. “Thanks! So, what do you need help with?”
“You mother is on the verge of hysteria,” he said calmly, making me wonder whether he really was calm or if that was a result of the valerian root drops too.
“So,” he began, “please don’t tell her, but Father Kristian isn’t here yet and—” A short sigh escaped him. “—he hasn’t answered his phone either.”
“Huh! Well, that’s not very good.”
“Do you mind trying him?” he asked, then passed me the phone.
“Of course,” I breathed.
Finding a quieter place in the house library, I dialled the number a couple of times, hoping for an answer.
Full rows of hardcover, lightly dusted books lined the towering shelves.
I traced my fingers over one. ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcott.
It’s fascinating how we sometimes feel more sympathy for fictional characters than we do for real people.
It obviously doesn’t mean we lack empathy for the real world.
Perhaps we let the emotion completely absorb us because we simply know that even with the book in our hands there is still a safe distance.
No answer.
“Alright.” I pressed the button. “One more time.”
Is there ever love in real life as good as they write about on the pages? Or am I simply that naive to hope that there is?
I was relieved for a mere second before I realised the call had gone to voicemail. “Hello! You’ve reached Father Kristian. While I’m out doing God’s work, please leave your confession after the beep and I’ll get back to you soon.”
“Seriously?” The message made me chuckle. But that still didn’t answer the question: where was the priest?
Beep.
“Oh, shit!” I suddenly heard myself mutter.
For God’s sake, Florence. “Um, hey, Father Kristian. Cool greeting by the way. This is Florence Grant. From the Grant family. Um, could you please give me a call back when you hear this?” Okay, you are doing great.
Just don’t say anything stupid. “Oh, and, um…may peace be with you?” Crap! “Anyway, bye.”
“May peace be with you?” an amused voice rambled from behind me.
I sighed before glancing over my shoulder. Dark tuxedo pressed to flawless perfection, not a single wrinkle in sight, hands in both pockets, hair sleek as always, a slow smirk gently touching the corners of his mouth, and his gaze intent as it focused on me. Miles. “You heard that?”
“I sure—” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat as he took in the sight of me turning towards him. A beat of silence passed before a barely audible “Um,” left his lips, his grey eyes shooting to meet mine. “I sure did,” he quietly managed.
“You okay?” I stepped closer, staring at him.
“Er, you seemed to make me forget all my words,” he breathed.
“Oh.” I swallowed, even more confused. Was that a good thing?
“Well,” he said, his brow slightly furrowed, “what I was trying to say—”
Suddenly, the phone rang in my hands. Just as abruptly, I dropped it to the floor.
“So sorry,” I quickly blurted.
“Allow me,” he offered as both of us dove for it, his body so close to me that I immediately felt dizzy. And not in a bad way.
The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us as we stood face to face.
Our fingers awkwardly brushed against each other as we held the device tightly in our hands.
It kept ringing but Miles wouldn’t let go.
Why wasn’t he letting it go? I glanced up to look at him.
My chest tightened momentarily from his unwavering stare and a breath hitched in my throat.
My poor heart pounded against my ribs, beating so fast I thought I might faint.
Then he said, “You gonna take it?” and released the phone.
“Um.” Jesus! That was…I fumbled to answer. “Hello?” I quickly replied.
“Florence?”
“Father Kristian?” I muttered. “Is everything okay with you? Because my mother is freaking out.”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, his deep voice crackling through the speaker. “An emergency exorcism that went badly wrong, but not to worry, I’m already on my way.”
“Um…” I paused. “Seriously?”
Father Kristian laughed. “No, I’m only joking, Florence. Stuck in traffic, but I’m five minutes away.” Huh?
“Well, that was…funny?”
“I knew you’d appreciate a good sense of humour.” A short chuckle erupted from the phone. “Anyway,” he added, “I’m almost there.”
“Yeah.” I hung up with a sigh of relief, my shoulders instantly relaxed as if a weight was lifted from them.
“I take it,” Miles rambled, “the priest is here.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Then—” He narrowed his gaze at me, slowly outstretching his palm for me to take. “—I guess, the best man and the maid of honour are needed downstairs too?”
“Miles,” I breathed as our eyes locked. I couldn’t wait anymore; I simply had to tell him. Now.
Yes, it had been just a fortnight, but for me it was so much more.
These past two weeks were special and I wanted more – I wanted all the time with him I could get.
To wake up in his arms, to share more sunrises, to listen to our favourite band on quiet rides together.
I yearned for him to take me on that date and finally say all those words he’d said behind the closed door.
I wanted him to be the first to know I’d booked driving lessons.
To learn more about him and share all of myself.
I wanted to know what he normally does on a Saturday evening.
What his favourite dish is, apart from casserole, of course .
What book he reads before bed. Where he goes when he feels down.
What else makes him happy besides racing.
I wanted to nuzzle into his hair as I drifted off to sleep.
To kiss that smirk off his face each time he was wrong but insisted he was right.
I wanted him in my life. All of him. I wanted to give us a chance to become something special. “Er,” I whispered, “there’s something I wanted to tell you.”