Roman a Clef - Jessica Thompson (my reading book .txt) 📗

Ashley look bored out of their minds. Kelly suggests we play a game to past the time, while Lacy gets her best friend, Ashley, a drink.
“Let’s play penis ring toss! Who wants to go first?” Kelly asks.
Ashley Marlow volunteers to go first. We wait for Lacy and Ashley to finish their toast. As I watch them lift their shot glasses I can’t help but think, “I wish I understood the relationship between these two women. From my observations I can only perceive that their sisterhood is nothing short of aristocratic sibling rivalry. They publicly profess undying love to one another using their terms of endearment. When the two are together, they regard all of their other friends as socially plebeian. Yet during their major life events I often get the impression that one is trying to trump the other. I do believe they are drawn to each other’s self-involvement and take pleasure in expressing their opinions, which they both believe to be superior.”

After a few rounds of ring toss Lacy and Kelly go for a smoke. I decide to put on some porn. Ashley and Sarah retreat into the next room as if to hide from the big bad porn monster. Kelly and Lacy laugh hysterically once they realize what Ashley Marlow and I are watching.
“Oh my God! He is massive. Do you see the size of his neck?!” Kelly shouts.
“Yeah, I don’t like really big guys like that.” Replies Ashley.
“Looking back at your track record, it is safe to say that you like your men really thin and sometimes short.” Says, Kelly.
“Sasha is not short.”
“You are right Ashley he is an even six feet. He really towers over you.” I chime in sarcastically.
Ashley stands up defensively and protests. “You know what? It doesn’t even matter that he is short because he is hung like an elephant and he always leaves me begging for more!”
Kelly comments, “I wonder if they will feature him on National Geographic, I can see the headline ‘Child size man born with Elephant Penis’.”
Lacy flabbergasts out a “Whaattt!!” and the four ladies burst in to laughter.

Ashley Dunn and Sarah are still sitting in the living room talking amongst each other. When they hear the burst of laughter, Sarah walks into the den to announce that they are leaving. Before leaving I run upstairs to grab Ashley’s garter belts. I hand them to Sarah just as she is closing the door.

The rehearsal is the next day. Hours before some of the wedding party congregate at my house to help with wedding preparations and put floral bouquets together. Lacy trims her dead ends, Kelly polishes her fingernails, and I polish my toenails. Ashley and Sasha are cutting the flowers off the stems and Jesse, Nathan and David are gathering buckets and creating space in the second fridge for the flowers.

We all arrive at the church in a cluster because we remember the thou-shall-not-be-late commandment. The moment Ashley and Ida arrive there is a paradigm shift in the culture of the atmosphere. Ida approaches me and Lacy and escorts us outside.
I immediately say, “What can we do for you, Ida?”
Ida, looking red in the face as if she is about to cry, responds: “You can stop neglecting my daughter.”
Lacy and I both have shocked looks on our faces. “Excuse me, how are we neglecting her?” Lacy says, in a calm tone.
“One day, when you become a mother, you may be able to understand what it is like to watch your daughter cry over what is to be the happiest day of her life. You two are making her so unhappy because you are neglecting her.”
Lacy and I are stunned by this. Words aren’t even formulating in our mouths. There is a long pause until I finally decide to break the ice.
“She thinks we are neglecting her? Okay if that is the case, tell me something, because this is the first time I am hearing this. Why isn’t she out here telling me this?”
“I don’t know why she can’t tell you. Can you please just stop neglecting her and just be there for her. This is her day.”
In a direct tone I respond, “For you, Ida, because I respect you for bringing this to my attention, I will let her have her day.”
“Thank You. Now Lacy, what time are you coming to the house in the morning to ride to the Hair Salon?”

I walk back into the church hotter than a tick in a tar-bucket. I am ready to walk out at this moment and be done with this whole thing. Then the greatest thing happens. I walk into the sanctuary and look at all the faces who are staring back at me to see if I am okay and assure me that they have my back. I realize within that moment that as a collective, they are here for me as much as I am here for them. I sit down next to Kelly who consoles me and I say, “Let’s get on with this fucking thing so we can get back to our lives.” During the rehearsal I realize that not much changed after Ida’s little talk. Ashley is still ignoring me as much as I am not initiating conversations with her. That happens sometimes when someone gives you a pep talk; your pride is taken to another, more selfish, level.

The rehearsal is like any other rehearsal: confusing, because there are too many cooks in the kitchen and they all think they are head chef.
The wedding coordinator is concerned that the bridesmaids will be scattered too far apart. The mother of the bride thinks we should focus first on the walk in. The bride doesn’t like where anyone is supposed to stand. Sarah thinks that the bridesmaids should be parallel to the groomsmen. The minister is annoyed that we will never start. Lacy is concerned that the candle that she is standing in front of will be too close to her hair. Sierra, one of the bridesmaids, doesn’t understand why the bride and groom don’t light the unity candles before they walk up the steps. I am just standing there watching the flower girl play. Ah to be young again and unaffected by any of this nonsense. All the while the guys are playing with a fart machine.
The wedding coordinator claps her hands to get everyone’s attention, “Alright ladies and gentleman please line up in the hallway lobby.”
As we all cluster into the hallway I notice Ashley is wearing a sweatshirt that reads, Mrs. Thompson. I make a mental note to never be called Mrs. Thompson. I make my first attempt at humility and say, “Ashley, your sweatshirt is very cute.”
No response, no smile; just a brief stare. Well there you go. I did my part for the day. I immediately walk over to Kelly and Sierra and engage them in a joke. Our laughter results in Ashley looking more upset.
The wedding coordinator and is a petite, heavy-set woman with pale skin and dark brown hair who talks with her hands. She spends the majority of the rehearsal flailing them around while she is giving directives. “Okay, now I need the mothers and the grandmothers to stand here. Can I also have the brothers of the bride and groom front and center? Now the brothers will walk down the grandmothers and then the mothers. So let’s try that out first. After you walked down your mothers, you are to join Patrick and the rest of the groomsmen.”
Ashley looks sternly at us and shouts, “My Bridesmaids need to be in this order: Lacy, Jessica, Sarah, Sierra and Kelly followed by Aubrey and Katie.”
The wedding coordinator pats us on the shoulder while we line up, reminding me of my teachers in elementary school preparing the class for recess. “Ladies, line up please. Lacy you can go. . .Jessica.”
As I am walking down the aisle I feel like there is a huge lump in the back of my throat that is getting bigger the closer I get to the pulpit. I need to distract myself before I have an anxiety attack. Then I hear the most glorious sound. The fart machine!

We stand in position at the alter for at least 30 minutes before the bride and father make their entrance. Ashley walks up to the alter with her father and I feel my mind drift off into a day-dream. I am day dreaming of the conversation I had with Patrick a few months ago.
Day-Dream

Patrick is standing in the office and I am sitting at my desk.
I smile and say, “Patrick, cop a squat for second, there is something that I need to talk to you about. I need to have a clear conscience about your life and the future, and I realize that the only way I can do that is if I am straight up and honest with you.”
Patrick nods and responds “Okay.”
“Please understand that I am not trying to offend you in any way. I just desperately need to make sure you are going to be okay.”
“Jessica I trust you, okay.”
I take a deep breathe. “I love you. And I know that you are going to marry Ashley and that you love her, you have to. I don’t like the way that she talks to you as if you are a child or as if she is always the victim and she needs a punching bag and you are it. I understand that it is probably not like this all the time, but from what I see it is often enough for me. I notice also that you don’t react, you just take it. This is fine because we all have to handle our own situations. I say all this to say, you are getting married to this person who treats you like this; you understand that marriage changes nothing.”
Patrick pauses and responds, “I know that things are not going to change after we get married. I don’t expect them to. Things aren’t as bad as you think they are. It is true. She lets off her steam on me, but she doesn’t mean to. I am just the closest person emotionally that she feels comfortable to be vulnerable around when she reacts like that. She always apologizes later. That is not my favorite thing about her but I do love her for who she is. When you married Nathan did you know what the bad stuff was upfront, or did you find out later after you married him?”
Hmmm. I think about the question. “To be honest Patrick, I think that even after three years of marriage, I am still surprised by little demons that rear their ugly heads every now and again, but my love for Nathan weighs heavier on the scale.”
Patrick smiles in agreement. “It is the same for me”.
We both smile.
“Then you should definitely marry her then! I am personally shocked by my statement”
“I will.”
“Thanks for having this talk with me, I really appreciate it.”
Patrick rests a hand on top of mine and says “No, thank you. I love you and I don’t want you to worry.”