I wished my friends were here and thought about giving them a call, but I knew Marnie and Mei were out at a gallery opening and Sabine was on a date. She’d been seeing a new guy, Harold, for a few weeks, and things seemed to be going well for them. There was no point dirtying a wine glass, so I simply brought the bottle to my lips and glugged away. I didn’t intend to glug, I mean, it was a great wine, and I made a note that I should pick up a couple of bottles to take home for my friends.
“Good as Hell” came on and I turned the volume up even more and sang as if the wine bottle was a microphone. I was so tired of the bullshit, but still didn’t feel I could dust my shoulders off and escape this fucked-up family I’d been born into.
Some wine escaped the side of my mouth, landing on the front of my dress. Not wanting it to stain, I ripped my dress off and soaked it in the kitchen sink. I’d only had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, and dinner hadn’t been much–I’d left before dessert. Fuck them all, I thought. In my beige bra and knickers, I stood in the loungeroom singing alone to the next track. If only my mother could see me now. Fortunately, I’d drawn the blinds before I left for dinner.
I could feel my thoughts getting floaty and noticed I’d finished the bottle of wine. Turning my phone to face me, I flicked on my camera and took a selfie. Fortunately, brain-addled Davina hadn’t worked out how to send it to anyone, especially as I was too busy singing along to the songs I was listening to.
In my mind, it was bad bitch o’clock. I was the queen of the world, and nothing could get me down. My phone battery suddenly died, and instead of working out, I could simply plug it in and charge it. I faceplanted myself on my bed and quickly fell asleep.
Waking up, my mouth felt like it was coated in sandpaper, my head felt like there was a woodpecker inside trying to get out, and my stomach felt like, well, let’s just say I made it to the bathroom in time. One bottle of wine, plus a few glasses shouldn’t have made me feel like this, but I had drunk the bottle in less than fifteen minutes.
My phone was still dead, but the clock on the microwave told me it was ten o’clock. I must have been tired to sleep that long. Fortunately, I’d missed the breakfast service, but there were some provisions, again left in the fridge. I found some headache pills in my bag and swallowed two with a large glass of water. My stomach tolerated vegemite on toast and a cup of tea, and I felt marginally better than when I had woken up.
The wedding wasn’t until mid-afternoon. I had planned to go for another walk around the vineyard but decided that a soak in the large bathtub would be a better use of my time. Grabbing the latest wolf-shifter book Marnie had recommended to me, I lay back and tried to focus on the descriptions of the well-built men who would shift into wolves and go running in packs before heading home and needing lots of sex.
The plot in this book was fairly similar to ones I’d read before and never answered the question of where the shifters’ clothes went when they shifted both to and from animal form.
In the water, my mind drifted, and I wondered how an author could Australianise such a story. Shifting into a kangaroo could be interesting. Sometimes I envied koalas sitting in trees all day eating the same thing. Perhaps I could shift into a koala?
With the water cold and the book finished–spoiler alert, she realised she does love the beast she’s fallen for and wants all his babies, even if they will be shifters themselves and on the edge of society–I rubbed moisturiser all over my body and dressed in the gorgeous lingerie Marnie had made for me.
Wearing matching bra and panties made me feel special. As I stood at the mirror blow-drying my hair into soft waves, I marvelled that there were no straps on the bra. Sure, I wouldn’t have been able to run or play sports in it, but it gave enough support that I felt safe.
I’d never even suggested to my mother that I have my hair and make-up done by professionals for the wedding. Instead, I watched tutorials online and had practised how to apply perfect eyeshadow to hooded eyes and where to place the blusher so that my already round cheeks didn’t look even rounder.
It took a while, but eventually, I was thrilled with the result. I knew that, until I left the cottage and was judged by others, I could at least judge myself as being beautiful. Well, perhaps beautiful was a stretch, but I felt okay with how I looked.
Stepping into the dress and fastening the gold shoes around my ankles, I was thrilled with the result. I grabbed my phone to snap a pic before remembering it was still dead. I had a little time so decided to plug it in for a few minutes whilst I changed my earrings. As I was about to grab my phone and snap a picture to send to the girls, there was a knock at the door.
“Shit. Wow! Davina. You look stunning, but I take it you haven’t heard?” Scott was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
I must have looked perplexed. My phone had charged enough to turn on, but I hadn’t received any messages that I’d heard. “Sorry?”
“There you are my gorgeous, beautiful niece!” Aunt B was striding up the path to the cottage wearing what looked like a silk patchwork kimono. “What a kerfuffle! Isn’t it marvellous!”
By now I figured I had drunk more than one bottle of wine, and I was in an alternate reality.
“Hi, I’m Scott.” Scott held out his hand to my aunt, “I was just about to tell her, as I think her fucked-up parents didn’t even bother letting her know.”
“I’m right here! What’s happened?”
“The wedding’s off.” Scott said all matter-of-factly looking to gauge my reaction.
“You couldn’t write about it, it’s just so karmic!” Aunt B started, “My stupid sister woke up early and her idiot husband wasn’t in bed with her, so she got up and knocked on her son’s door, only Christine the bridesmaid answered wearing one of Daniel’s t-shirts. So, she screams, and next thing her husband’s scrambling out of the bride’s room trying to put his pants on.”
“The fuck?” This indeed sounded like a bad rom-com, or a second-rate, if there was such a thing, porno. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.
“The official story is Debbie is unwell, and the wedding’s been postponed.” Scott was trying to be diplomatic.
“Is Mum okay?” I asked, unsure of where my concern had come from.
“Oh yes, my sister’s thriving on it, but Debbie’s mother is out for blood. If Debbie’s brother hadn’t woken up and walked out on it all, I think it would’ve just been laughed about, and it would all be carrying on. Simon’s down there harping on about how immoral de Duchy men are!”
Simon, that was the name of Debbie’s brother.
“A bit hypocritical when his sister was sleeping with her future father-in-law the night before the wedding!” Scott grinned. “Anyway, I came to see if you wanted to grab a drink and perhaps ask for some popcorn and sit at the bar and watch it all go down. I can’t believe they didn’t bother telling you. You look stunning.”