Page 41 of What It's Like in Words
He’s being a right dick, said the friend, swaying.
Here, look! A phone with a photo of a wedding dress was passed across me.
Sorry, she said, giggling.
No worries—nice dress, I said.
The dress looked like everyone else’s. Sort of a fishtail. Sort ofwhite. Sort of beaded. Sort of lace.Vintagelace, she said in a way that made me think she didn’t know what the word meant.
Excuse me. I turned on the hand dryer. The water resisted blowing off my hands like it was trying to grip the skin. When the noise stopped, the woman was talking about how her “frenemy” Suze said it would be sexist to be given away.
Like, I get it, I’m not property, but at the same time I think feminism ruins things for women.
Her friend made a noise that didn’t satisfy her need for a response, so she grabbed my arm and said: Wouldyourdad walkyoudown the aisle?
No, I said, but my dad’s dead.
CHAPTER 11
We sat at a long white table in the garden. He arched his eyebrow at a gravy stain on my linen napkin. That would have been your dress, honey. He touched the lace.
It’svintagelace, I said. He whispered that he didn’t give a fuck what it was, he’d be ripping it off me later.
A glass was tapped, and my dad stood.
Happy wedding day, darling daughter. I remember when you were six years old, running around in this garden. It’s hard to believe that we’re all here now, in the exact same place, to celebrate your marriage to a man that I’m proud to call my son. When you announced that you were moving here, to the house that we lived in all those years ago, I didn’t know what to think. And then Ruth decided to move here too!
The room laughed, and Ruth toasted herself.
Dad concluded: What a strange and misunderstood thing time is. Please be upstanding for—Enola, are you taking his name?
There’s the sound of the train again.
I turned to him, but there was just a bright light and loud noise and everyone was waiting for my answer. I told Dad that I was still thinking about it.
It’s getting louder.
Don’t worry too much, my girl. What’s for you won’t go by you. From far away in space, all of this has already happened.
Meaning?
You didn’t have a choice.
He reached for a kiwi and threw it to me.
MY HEAD IS THROBBING. I can hear Ruth saying,Eat something, Laa.It’s gone six and all I’ve had is an apple. I go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of cereal but the flakes are stale, and I imagine them in my stomach like dead leaves in a puddle. I leave the bowl and go back to the bedroom where I find my painkillers in the drawer and take two. There is a modicum of relief in knowing that I’ve solved one problem, until, at the back of the drawer by an unopened packet of condoms, I notice the CD he made me for my twenty-eighth birthday.
I always assumed I’d have my life figured out by the time I was thirty. I thought I would have a stable job. I thought I would be in a real relationship. I thought I would know how to work the oven timer. The generation below evaluate us the way that we evaluate our parents. They talk like we’re a completed, finished thing: millennials. But I’m not finished, I’m incomplete, I’m temporized, with a bruise on my collarbone darkening like fruit.
Well, this is going pretty well, isn’t it?
HE HAD BEEN INNorwich for ten days and I was crouched like a goblin between my bookshelf and wardrobe. We hadn’t spoken since I’d called from the club, and there were three unread messages on his phone from me. On mine, one from Amy:
Enola, I need to know if he’s coming to the evening do. Please let me know by tonight!! x
I was hoping to bring up the subject of Amy’s wedding again when he was back, but I still didn’t know when that would be, and at this point, I had to admit the loss.
Hey, Ames, sorry but no he can’t. Thanks so much though! x
