Bad Bridesmaid. Portia MacIntosh
‘Well, you’re never going to get married, are you?’ my sister reasons.
I look over at my mum for some kind of support.
‘And we did spend your share of the wedding fund on your sister,’ my mum half jokes.
‘Unbelievable,’ I say as I shake my head. Thank God I really don’t have plans to get married because my family are trying to make sure I’m fucked from the word go.
Belle wanders over to me sheepishly, spatula in hand.
‘You’re not mad are you, sis?’ she asks.
‘Of course I’m not,’ I say, giving her a playful shove so she knows I mean it. ‘You’re right, I don’t ever want to get married, I’m just messing with you.’
‘Phew.’ My sister breathes a sigh of relief and gets back to her bacon.
Am I stupid for being upset over everyone constantly reaffirming that I’m never going to get married? I know why I don’t want to get married, but they don’t understand the way I feel. I can only imagine they think that no one would even want to marry me in the first place.
I know this is only my first proper day here – but already I can’t wait for this stupid wedding to be over, so I can get on the fastest flight back to lovely LA, relaxing in the knowledge that I’ve clocked enough family hours to last me at least a couple of years.
‘Bacon sandwich?’ my sister asks me.
‘Oh, no thank you,’ I say politely. ‘I’m not really a fried food person.’
‘But you used to love bacon sandwiches,’ my mum insists.
‘I’m sure I used to love being breastfed, but I wouldn’t very much like to do it now,’ I insist.
I don’t know why I expected to get a few laughs from the room, that joke was never going to go down well. My mum rolls her eyes, my gran tuts and my auntie looks repulsed.
‘Mia, I’m not entirely happy about your foul mouth and your disgusting sense of humour being around my kids,’ my auntie explains.
‘Well, I’m quite fond of my foul mouth and my disgusting sense of humour – in fact, I’m literally attached to my foul mouth, so unless you want me to stay away from my cousins…’
‘Could you? Thanks.’ My auntie forces a fake smile. I told you, she just hates me.
‘I could do you some sausage while the pan is still on,’ my sister suggests in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
‘I’m fine, honestly. I’ll just grab a coffee, I’m not much of a morning person.’
I don’t point out to my sister that sausages are also fried – the pan and the oil are the giveaway when it comes to what is and isn’t fried.
‘Well, there’s a machine over there. None of us have any idea how to use it though,’ my sister says with a shrug of her shoulders.
I glance over at the fancy, hi-tech coffee machine that no one has been able to figure out how to use. I’m a coffee junkie, so I have a similar machine at home – I’ll be able to work this, no problem.
‘When you’re done, go and put some clothes on because we’re all going to this fish and chip restaurant in the town. Well, everyone but Dan, he’s still stuck in bed with a bad back,’ my sister reminds me, like I might have forgotten.
‘I am dressed,’ I protest, glancing down at the hot pink beach dress I had deemed the most appropriate to wear around my family. ‘Anyway, I’m really tired from all the travelling yesterday so I thought I might just chill out here today, make sure I’m ready to start celebrating tomorrow.’
I give my sister an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. Hopefully by mentioning the thousands of miles I have travelled just to be with her on her big day she will be grateful enough not to force me into wedding-based celebrations just yet.
‘That’s fine,’ my sister says, much to my surprise. ‘Well, we’d rather not take the kids with us and Dan isn’t exactly up to looking after them.’
Wow, that’s twice today she’s brought up the fact I injured her fiancé. As far as I’m concerned, Dan’s bad back is not my fault, but I’m the only person in this house who doesn’t blame me.
‘You want me to look after kids?’ I laugh. ‘I’m sure they can take care of themselves.’
‘Josh and Max are only ten.’ My sister says this with such an alarmed squeak that you’d think I had just suggested we leave a toddler in the cutlery drawer.
‘Anyway, she doesn’t want me near her kids,’ I say with a nod towards my auntie.
‘She’s the cat’s mother,’ my mum insists, reminding me of my manners – God forbid anyone should say anything that might be considered rude this morning.
‘It will do you good to learn some responsibility,’ my Auntie June insists.
‘You mean it will do you good to dump your child on me while you go off and eat chips,’ I reply.
‘Mia, why can’t you just do this?’ Belle pleads.
‘Because I’m not a child-friendly person,’ I insist.
‘You’re not a fried food person, you not a morning person, you’re not a child-friendly person – are you sure you’re a person at all?’ my mum snaps.
‘OK, fine,’ I say in submission. ‘I’m going to go and do some work by the pool, just let me know when you need me.’
It’s like I only need to be in a room for five minutes before everyone is pissed off and it’s all thanks to me. I’m not sure what it is about me that my family seem to find so intolerable because, from where I’m standing, they’re the ones with the flaws, not me. OK, so I may not be into love, marriage and babies, but I’m a nice person, I’m kind, generous and polite – all the things you’re supposed to be – until people give me reason not to be. I’m not cold like my mum, I’m not a bully like my sister and I’m not a horrible cow like my auntie. Perhaps I’m not as nice to my Auntie June as I could be, but this level of dislike comes after years and years of her actively despising me, and for no good reason.
The plan is to get comfortable by the pool, do a bit of work and then try and swim off the dinner I ate out of manners last night. I hadn’t bargained on babysitting two young boys but they’re good kids, I’m sure keeping an eye on them won’t affect my plans.
Finally connected to the beach house wi-fi, my phone springs back to life. After a day of peace and quiet from my best friend (who is also my calendar, camera, alarm clock, emailing device, web browser… oh, and it can make calls too) normal service has been resumed. There are several emails from my assistant, Dalia, filling me in on every little thing that has happened in the office as well as a few from Savannah and Molly who are already seeming pretty stressed out trying to get on with our latest project without me. Molly hinted that my boss was unhappy with me taking vacation days (that I was owed, might I add) while we’re in the middle of a new movie. If only they knew what a rubbish time I was having, I’d much rather be at work.
I have only just made myself comfortable next to the pool, but I know that I’ll get my work done a lot easier if I type on my iPad instead of my phone. I drag myself to my feet and begin (what feels like) the long journey up to my room – then again, running up two flights of stairs will do me good, I can practically feel the bolognese making itself at home on my hips.
When I finally reach my room I am a little taken aback to see my uncle already in there.
‘Can I help you?’ I ask bluntly.
‘I