text: “Good morning, miss.” Her voice was gentle, as was the velvety soft hand on my bare shoulder, but neither could soothe the pounding in my skull. I offered some sort of noise resembling a distressed animal to let her know I was alive. Opening my eyes was too much to ask. “You requested a personal wake-up,” she said, her voice again sliding like butter, and I carefully forced open one eye. “I’m up,” I managed. I could not believe I was hungover. I had done everything in my power to avoid this, I mean, outside of not drinking. I had hydrated all day , not to mention the two water bottles I had consumed overnight, like a camel in a desert. I had stayed away from tequila, my nemesis. I know I had eaten well at the dinner last night. I had commissioned the beholder of the soft voice to make certain I was in bed before midnight. All in preparation for the best day ever! My wedding day! I suddenly bolted upright, the room spinning just a hair, taking in the woman. Her name was Cassidy, I remembered this now, and it was part of the Gold Wedding Package here at this luxurious hotel where my wedding was set to take place. Today! I reached out and squeezed both of Cassidy’s hands as if she were a friend and not an employee of the hotel. Cassidy was startled, both by my sudden jolt upright and the hand-holding, which I guess was out of the realm of the personal-assistant/bride relationship. Her face was flat, unemotive, but no matter. It was my wedding day! I pushed off the mattress and strode the windows, willing my headache go somewhere and die. I flung the room-darkening curtains open to look down upon the water that would serve as the backdrop to the best day of my life. Everything was gray. Everything. The sky, the water, the very air, it seemed, held a solid granite color. I turned to look at Cassidy in devastation. “What’s...where’s the sun? Today is supposed to be nice! Its my wedding day!” I could feel tears threatening already...this could not be happening! Everything about today centered on the partly sunny, seventy-two degree forecast of the past week. Everything: the photography. The ceremony. My hair. My hair! It was going to frizz up! The lovely, quaint, classy cocktail hour that was supposed to entertain the guests by the sea while Jeremy and I had our perfect, no-shadows, non-windy wedding photos taken. “I don’t control the weather, miss,” Cassidy said, her voice still smooth but with hints of annoyance. The staccato beats in my head remained; a fresh wave of bile threatening to erupt. “I know but...” The tears came then, spilling over. Dammit! That was going to cause puffiness. Cassidy softened a bit. “It'll be okay. It’s really not supposed to rain so I bet it will clear up. You’ll see,” she said, reaching over to pat my shoulder uncomfortably. “Take a shower, and I’ll set your breakfast up.” I nodded, feeling like a toddler who’s lollipop had just fallen irretrievably into the dirt. As I undressed, I contemplated the Plan B that I had paid no attention to, a ceremony in the front banquet room, the ocean just slightly visible if you craned your neck and pressed your nose up to the glass walls. In the shower, I let the scalding water wash over me, willing everything that had happened so far in the first five minutes of my wedding day to wash away as well. Okay: the hangover was manageable. A Gatorade and a double dose of ibuprofen, not to mention a protein-rich breakfast would cure it. The weather? Okay. Cassidy had said it would probably change. The forecast had predicted not a drop of rain, and it was still early, after all. I quickly dried off and felt my excitement returning as I brushed my teeth. I had been planning this day for two years. Two years . Ever since Jeremy had gotten down on one knee, cornily and generically, only overshadowed by the massive diamond he offered me. The life he promised me. Money, for one. Ease--I would never have to work. Babies: the thing I wanted most! Two or three matching little blondes...I could see them in my mind’s eye, riding in the back of my BMW crossover. Wearing matching designer pajamas at Christmas. Bedrooms with the Pottery Barn quilts and the letters on the wall spelling out the cute little androgynous names I’d already chosen. Harper. Kennan. Alex. I mean, Jeremy was part of the picture too. But. Sometimes I felt like royalty being assigned to marry the dorky prince-in-waiting. Of course, no one was forcing me to marry him, and I liked him enough, and he was truly a good, honest man. And physically, if you unfocused your eyes and made his clothing a blur, you could really concentrate on his beautiful features. I could not wait to see him in the black tuxedo I’d chosen! Jeremy was a man of good bone structure, a solid jawline, golden hair and ice-blue eyes. His smile was wide and congenial. He was the perfect height. He was a lawyer, not to mention the gobs of family money at his disposal. And he was truly, madly, wildly, head-over-heels in love with me--the future mother of his children, he called me. So what did it matter if I didn’t love him? Everything else I’d ever wanted was wrapped into a neat little package. Once we had kids he’d fade into the background, anyhow. I burst out of the bathroom, my headache receding despite the room erupting with noise. Cassidy looked a bit irritated at the squeals of my bridesmaids, wearing white monogrammed terrycloth robes--gifts from me! Madison held the garment bags containing the dresses, and Lauren had the make-up and shoes slung over her shoulder. And Katelyn was...wait. Where was Katelyn? “Where’s Katelyn?” I asked, breaking the screaming into silence. Madison and Lauren exchanged looks, their lips pursed together as if they weren’t sure what to say to me. “Welllll....” Madison started. “The good news is she’s okay.” “And since we know that, we don’t need to worry about her today,” Lauren added brightly, and I notice that both of my friends looked exceedingly tired. “Where’s Katelyn?” I demanded, my hysteria rising. This was just like her. Always late to the party, always having to be the center of attention. The complainer. She had been the one to grumble about the salmon pink color of their dresses; the one who didn’t like her groomsman, Jeremy’s acne-spotted fifteen-year-old brother. “Don’t you remember what happened last night?” Lauren said gently. I did not remember, but nodded as if I suddenly did. “Long story short,” Madison jumped in, “She had an allergic reaction to the shellfish at dinner. It got worse and while you were partying away we ended up taking her to the emergency room. We actually just got back around five a.m.” “So let me get this straight,” I said, willing my tears to stay put. “Katelyn is not going to be here for my wedding and you two didn’t sleep at all?” Madison held up an energy drink like a peace offering and Lauren stifled a yawn. Miserably, I sat down to the breakfast that Cassidy had set up. I specifically remember ordering a protein-rich meal, but before me sat an array of muffins and bagels. Sugar-laden orange juice rested in a tall pitcher, not a Gatorade in sight. I could barely care as I broke off a piece of blueberry muffin and shoved it in my mouth, savoring the crystallized sugar on top. Cassidy, God love her, seemed to take note of my circling of the drain. “Come on miss,” she said. “It'll all be okay. At least your friend is alive. Sounds like she barely made it until the paramedics arrived. And Melissa will be here shortly for hair and make-up. So, eat up!” Okay. It was still ugly out, but I could see that it wasn’t actually raining. My headache was finally dissipating, and the muffins, I could not deny, were heavenly. The orange juice was like crack. I hadn’t allowed sugar to touch my body in two years, so this was a treat. Madison and Lauren were staring at me with hopeful smiles, and I decided that I was just going to go with the flow. What else could go wrong, right? “Where’s the getting-ready playlist?” I said, breaking into a grin. “Don’t tell me we forgot it?” Lauren squealed again, and within minutes the room was filled with the pumping jams we had spent our college years partying to. Melissa arrived on time to beautify us, and we FaceTimed Katelyn from her hospital bed. Jeremy sent me a lovely, swooning text and my mother arrived to tell me that based on the hourly forecast, they were going ahead with setting up outside. By the time I was ready, the frustrations of the morning seemed to fade away. My hangover was gone . Melissa was a magician--she’d managed to even out Lauren’s ruddy complexion and transform Madison’s flat hair into something with a little bit of life. My own hair was a dazzling array of cornsilk braids twisted into an updo and I was pretty enough that my make-up was minimal. Even though there was a near-malfunction while zipping up my dress (the little hook at the top seemed to be missing??) the day was saved by Cassidy, who was apparently a seamstress as well. As we made our way to the patio, shielded by gauzy curtains that seemed to be wildly blowing in a cold wind that was out of place for August, I caught sight of Jeremy already down by the awning at the edge of the beach. The gusts were lifting his tufts of blonde hair, and I cringed at the already-receding hairline that was becoming visible. But there was something else that felt off... “Why isn’t he in his tux?” I gasped, grabbing the curtain and whipping it aside, not even caring if he saw me. “What is he wearing ?” “Okay, okay, relax,” Madison said, patting my back like a baby. “There was an issue.” “An issue!” I screeched. “Is it...is he wearing a brown suit?” I squinted, but there was no denying it. Not only was Jeremy not in black, it wasn’t even a tuxedo! And was his tie...green? What the actual heck was going on? Madison was speaking rapidly, and Cassidy looked concerned. Even she could see that the horrific, poo-colored suit and vomit-green tie were not going to work. “The tux shop...something got mixed up and your tux went somewhere else, and this suit came here...there’s no time, honey. But it does not matter! Do you hear me?” Madison gave me a little shake. “You’re marrying your soulmate today! This is the best day ever!” I willed the tears to go away. I could not risk runny mascara by sobbing, which is what I really wanted to do. Aside from the horrid visual of this brown suit against his groomsmen in classic black, and my girls in their lush, smooth, salmon-pink, what about our wedding pictures? “You can always recreate the pictures,” Lauren added, as if reading my mind. “Madison is right, it doesn’t matter right now. You’re getting married! ” She squeezed my arm and squealed again. “This is the best day of your life!” As I watched the guests fill the seats, I wanted to throw a tantrum. I could see Madison and Lauren watching me, knowing I was on the verge of snapping. Two years of planning, I thought miserably. Cassidy had failed to get me to bed before I’d started doing shots. Katelyn hadn’t had the foresight to avoid shrimp, which she’d apparently never eaten before? My body was crashing already from the breakfast of sugar and I was seriously concerned that the tiny, minuscule hook was not going to hold the back of my dress together. And Jeremy was in a freaking brown suit, like he was a door-to-door salesman of encyclopedias in 1982. And I didn’t love him. And it was raining. Wait. No, it wasn’t. The sky was just cloudy, the wind a bit aggressive. But it wasn’t actually raining, Cassidy had assured me it would not. And yet there, on the brick walkway that would guide me from the patio to the beach, were big fat droplets, increasing at an alarming rate. The bartender on the patio, sensing my growing hysteria, slid a shot across the pop-up bar. I gratefully took it, sliding the glass back for another. Madison, Lauren and Cassidy all stared at me, their expressions bordering on fear. I had sworn I would not be inebriated at my ceremony, a promise to myself, but it didn’t matter anymore. The ceremony was in shambles, but at least we had the reception to look forward to, where I planned to get blackout drunk and hopefully let Jeremy impregnate me. I shrugged at the girls, and they visibly relaxed. Cassidy broke into a smile, the first I had seen yet. “Let’s do it,” I said grimly, a sergeant commanding her soldiers to war. The girls headed down the path into the rain, which seemed to be worsening each moment. I followed in suit, each of my parents on one arm, shielding their faces as torrents of water seemed to pour out of the sky. Once I reached Jeremy, who was grinning despite the storm and his sewage-colored suit, we all agreed to abbreviate the ceremony by cutting out the speeches and the poems and shortening the vows. What did it matter anyhow? All I cared about at this point was getting inside, fixing my drowned rat look, and getting to the party. Jeremy’s friends and family were duds, but mine were fun, and as I listened to the preacher’s hurried speech, warped by the gusts of wind, I willed myself to feel excited. When Jeremy’s lips touched mine, the imagery of a cold fish appearing, as always, I internally clapped loudly, thrilled that this part was over. We clasped hands and ran through the rain, the guests following us in a big, dripping throng, everyone laughing and clamoring to the bar in wet shirts and dresses. The photos, obviously, were to be abandoned, and Jeremy and I quickly rode the elevator to our wedding night suite. Of all the decisions I’d made in the past two years, I was most grateful for the one that had us changing outfits for the reception. “Thank goodness,” Jeremy said, as he emerged from the bathroom in dress pants and a salmon-pink shirt. “I’ve never been so glad to get out of clothes before!” “I know!” I said, shimmying into my short, tight, white sequined reception dress. At least Jeremy and I were in agreement about the diarrhea-colored suit that was now crumpled on the floor. Jeremy held out an arm, showing me his goosebumps. “We would have frozen in those wet clothes!” I stood before him, the swell of my cleavage perfectly pronounced in my tight dress, blonde tendrils falling out and sexily curling around my face, my lips plump and perfectly pink. But Jeremy was only staring at his pimply arm, as if nothing was more amazing than gooseflesh. Oh well. The reception, which took place indoors, was a mess as well. Oh, who was I kidding? This whole day was a disaster. As I pounded what was probably my tenth tequila shot, I took a short break to sit for a moment, and to remind myself why I was doing this. Maybe I didn’t love Jeremy, but I loved the idea of us. I loved the life of ease that lay ahead of me, despite the rocky start. I especially loved the idea of the perfect, blonde, stairstep children I would get to have. None of the rest mattered, and Lauren was right, it would be a funny tale to tell one day. The hangover, the weather, Katelyn’s surprise anaphylactic shock. The puke-colored suit, the broken dress hook. Jeremy’s stupid, idiotic shivering arms. My level of drunkenness, which had the room spinning already. The band that regretfully announced that they were missing their drummer due to unforeseen circumstances. The cake that Lauren had accidently stumbled into, taking a chunk of salmon pink icing right to the floor with her. Just then, Jeremy’s mother sat down next to me. Like Jeremy, there was nothing exactly wrong with her, but I didn’t particularly care for her company. She’d make a great babysitter for Harper, Kennan and Alex one day though, with her curly granny hair and whispery voice. That voice was complimenting me now, and I perked up. She was talking about my resilience, about the grace I had exuded even though everything had gone wrong. She thought I was a class act, and I brightened a little bit under her words, trying to keep myself from swaying so she wouldn’t know I was plastered. “And so accepting, you are, of my Jeremy’s unfortunate condition,” she said, patting my arm like I was a puppy. “What condition?” I asked, trying hard not to slur my words. She looked uncomfortable but leaned in close. “You know,” she said in a hushed tone. “His...sterility. I’m so glad you don’t seem like the type to want children. Testicular cancer as a teen was tough for Jeremy, but worrying about a wife who would be okay with no kids was tougher. Thank God for you!” As she walked away, I wildly grabbed the half full champagne glasses on the table and drank them forcefully. I would not cry. Not tonight. Not on the best day ever!