In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Comedy of Errors (and bonus assignment!).”
It all started with a strawberry. A stinking strawberry. You might think that a strawberry is a harmless fruit, and good to boot. But that morning it ended up being a weapon that turned the entire day into a cataclysmic disaster. They say that when you get married, something will always go wrong, not to fret about it. The most important thing is that you’re marrying the man of your life. Well the hell with that!
Mary had come to her with a bowl of strawberries as an offering for her breakfast. She didn’t feel like breakfast but the kid was so endearing that she couldn’t refuse. It would have been cruel. She should have though. Because instead of giving her the bowl Mary picked one berry and reached for her mouth. Only to let it fall on her dress, leaving a red spot in the middle of the skirt. It took everything she had not to yell, but Mary could tell that she was upset and she started bawling.
Within moments Delia was with her daughter, explaining that everything was ok, and giving her the stinky eye. Really!? On that day, it was her fault? she never really liked her cousin but her parents had insisted she invite everyone. Instead of starting a conflict, she stood and walked away, twisting her ankle in the process. Limping back to her room, she sat and wrapped her ankle in a bandage. At least, she could do that for herself. Giving up on the beautiful heeled shoes she’d purchased, she grabbed a pair of white flats, her back-up plan. The one she hadn’t even imagined she’d need.
She grabbed a towel and wetted it, trying to at least absorb some of the juice of the fruit. But as fate would have it, it didn’t work. At least she didn’t spread it. The instant spot remover was nowhere to be found.
“Hey Amy?” Shannon called from the door. “Delia said you spotted your dress.” What the…! “Seeing how Mary was distressed, I’m guessing she did it.”
“Where’s the spot remover?”
“Well, that’s the thing. She didn’t tell me until I finished removing the spots on Mary’s dress. It’s empty. I’d forgotten what a nasty piece of work she is.”
Amy rolled her eyes.
“Why did you invite her again?”
“Mom wanted me to. She’s her only goddaughter.”
“Shit! What did you do to your ankle girl?”
“Twisted it. Walking away from a fight with my dear cousin.”
“Let me look at it. Are you sure you’re a nurse? This looks awfully tight.”
“I need to be able to walk.”
Shannon rolled her eyes in turn and sat down to fix her bandage and wrap it properly about her ankle.
“So the hairdresser and make up artists are here.”
Shannon said casually from where she sat, tying up the wrap to hold it.
Together! At the same time. That wasn’t the plan.
“I figured I could have the make-up artist start with me while you’re getting your hair dressed and then we exchange.”
That was a solution. But really? She was paying a fortune for this and they couldn’t get their shit together.
They sat down and chatted while the women were doing their job, until suddenly something felt wrong. And smelled wrong.
“Oh no! No!” The hairdresser panicked.
“What’s going on?” Amy said, trying to see.
“Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”
“F…! Amy she burned your hair.”
“Just a tiny curl, at the back. No one will notice. I’ll fix it. I didn’t expect that it was a 220V plug. The iron is 140V. I’m sorry. But I have some extension in the car. It’s your hair colour. I’ll be right back.”
Amy grabbed her hair as the woman left. She couldn’t feel a difference in the thickness of her ponytail, but slowly running her fingers on her scalp, she found where it was burnt. She turned to the mirror. How could the twit think that no one would notice. What the hell!!
“Jess is a professional Miss don’t worry, she’ll fix it in a trice.”
“SHE SHOULD…” She took a deep breath. “She shouldn’t have made the mistake in the first place. I’ll speak with Armando.”
The woman paled. Moments later, ‘Jess’ came back with extensions and after promising she wouldn’t use the iron, Amy let her return to her task. In the end you couldn’t see that her hair was burned but still. The make-up artist was extra careful with her tools and what she did, trembling at some point until Amy told her to get it together, she didn’t want mascara in her eye.
Eventually she was ready, well there was nothing to do about the spot on the dress, so she held the flowers in such a way that they hid it somehow. They went down to the chapel holding the ceremony. Everyone was here waiting for her. Soon all were seated and she walked down the aisle. As Sean’s eyes met hers, she knew everything would be fine. He loved her. She loved him.
But everything wasn’t to be fine. Next thing she knew, they were supposed to exchange rings and Sean’s best man, looking completely embarrassed and awkward, admitted to forgetting them in his room. At home! She shot daggers at him, while some people – Delia included probably – sniggered behind them. It was supposed to be her day for Heaven’s sake!
After that she threw it up to the wind. Nothing was going to work anyway. And good thing she did, because Evan showed up. She choked on her champagne when she saw him stand to take the microphone and speak.
“Who the hell is that?” Sean asked.
“Evan,” she breathed. She looked at Shannon who shrugged. And then looked for her mother who beamed. It seemed her mother had decided to make this day a nightmare.
“Evan, as in your ex Evan? When did we invite him?”
“I knew your mother didn’t like me Amy, and I’m fine not saying anything, but that…”
“I won’t forgive her either love.”
She kissed him, ignoring whatever Evan was saying. At the end of the night, she went back to her room, Shannon with her. As she helped her clean up, Amy sighed. Everything that could have gone wrong, did.
“Thank God it was only rehearsal day!”
“Don’t worry, with everything…”
“Shut up! Don’t jinx it!”
Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow wouldn’t be half as bad. When she woke up, she snuggled into Sean’s arms. She looked at her left hand. The engagement ring was beautiful. But she was damned if she would let that dream come true. It would be their wedding, not her mother’s.