Topic for this week: You are looking down through the skylight as chefs prepare dinner for your ex-fiance’s wedding.
“Lobster risotto? Seriously??”
It was all getting to be just a little too much. It was bad enough that I had to hear about Bill’s upcoming wedding from my wistful mother. It got even worse when my sister and brother-in-law were invited and I wasn’t. But the absolute last straw was the lobster risotto. That was going to be on our wedding menu! And now I’m watching one of the top chefs in Vancouver make enough for 350 guests. It’s not fair.
My perch was precarious but I didn’t care. It didn’t take much digging to find out where the reception was being held; my sister left the invitation sitting on the dining room table. Some simple climbing two hours before any guests arrived and I could see everything the kitchen was preparing. This food must have cost a fortune. No expense spared for Daddy’s little girl. I really hoped Melissa’s whole family got food poisoning. But with this chef and his excellent crew the chances of that were less than slim.
Bill and I had dated for five years, if you can believe it. He’d proposed three times. And six months after I’d finally said yes and we were neck deep in wedding plans he told me he’d met an “incredible” woman for whom he was fast developing feelings, and it just wasn’t fair to me to keep up the pretense of our relationship. “Pretense” was the exact word he used. That word hurt me more than the spectre of another woman in Bill’s arms. That was two years ago now. Fast forward to Bill and Melissa’s ultra chic, over-the-top, urban hipster wannabe shindig.
As the smells reached up to the small vents around the skylight I felt my mouth watering. The leaves rustled in the early evening breeze and I saw the spider’s web, covered in tiny web parcels containing flies and other flying insects. And of course high up on the web sat this enormous spider, just hanging out, waiting to feel hungry I guess, happily observing her well-stocked larder. I saw myself open the skylight and drop the swaddled bugs one by one into the cooking pots. And somehow drop the big fat spider right into the wedding cake. For a moment I felt light and free, contemplating my revenge. But just as quickly I knew I couldn’t do it. The innocent spider didn’t deserve a swan dive into butter cream icing. The bride and groom did, but the spider, not so much.
The kitchen door opened and there was Bill. He was talking to the chef. I couldn’t make out the words but he seemed to be doing some last minute checks. He looked so handsome in black tie. And he looked something else: happy. Happier than I had ever seen him. And even though I had displayed less than stellar judgement in climbing up on the roof without a plan but somehow just needing to see what could have been mine, I felt a pang of guilt. I hadn’t ruined anything, yet. And deep down I knew that Bill didn’t deserve it. Neither did Melissa.
I looked at the spider again, as she slowly moved to her dinner. “Good idea,” I said out loud, and started the laborious climb down. An hour later I was sitting at Lupo’s, having nabbed a single free space at the bar.
“Lobster risotto, please.”
Next week: Put two people who hate each other in an elevator for 12 hours. What happens?
This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises. 🙂