“What am I going to do if I can never give him another blowjob? What kind of a relationship can we possibly have if I can’t put his penis in my mouth without throwing up?” I ask, trying to keep my panic at a minimum before I curl up in the fetal position and cry.
“Stop being a drama queen, for fuck’s sake. So you threw up on his dick? Come back to me when you’ve had accidental anal,” Ava says with a sigh. “At least you had the luxury of passing out after you threw up. I couldn’t sit down for a week and I was afraid to take a shit for four days.”
I grimace and throw my hands up.
“Seriously, you have got to stop with the over-sharing,” I complain.
“Maybe I should give Gavin anal and then tell him about the baby,” Charlotte thinks aloud. “Anal can make anything better, right?”
Ava nods. “Sure. Anal is pretty much the sexual duct tape of the world—it fixes everything. I should put that on a t-shirt.”
While Ava ponders her idea, I turn my focus to Charlotte.
“Have you even tried talking to Gavin about kids yet or are you just planning on dropping this huge bomb on him as soon as he says I do?” I ask, trying not to sound annoyed.
“You can’t rush something like this, Molly. It’s a very delicate situation.”
Her annoyance comes through loud and clear and it pisses me off.
“Oh, by all means, take your time. In fact, why don’t you wait until you go into labor to break the news? I’m having so much fun fucking up my life and having mom and dad upset and disappointed in me instead of enjoying what should be the best time of my life. As long as you’re happy, Charlotte, that’s all that matters,” I bite out sarcastically.
Ava pats me on the back in sympathy and Charlotte immediately bursts into tears.
“I’m so fat and Gavin is going to leave me, and now you hate me and I’m going to be pregnant and alone and this baby is going to hate me for ruining it’s life!” she wails.
“Oh, give me a fucking break!” Ava complains. “Turn off the fake waterworks. I am not afraid to punch a pregnant chick so cut that shit out.”
Charlotte huffs in annoyance, the tears in her eyes immediately disappearing, proving that Ava was correct and she was faking it. She almost had me feeling sorry for her pathetic ass.
“Jesus, are you even human?” I mumble.
“It’s a gift,” she shrugs, resuming her struggle to try and zip her dress. “I just imagine someone I love dying in a really horrible way.”
“You need to be medicated. If Gavin doesn’t dump your ass when you tell him about the baby, he sure as shit will when he figures out you’re psychotic,” Ava states.
“Your boyfriend can’t get it up unless you dress up like Mister Ed so fuck off,” Charlotte replies. “I think I’ve almost got it.”
Charlotte pants as she twists and turns with her arms still behind her back. Her face is red and glistening with sweat as she struggles for a few more seconds before dropping her arms and sighing in relief. “I did it!”
She turns to show us, Ava and I sharing a quick look behind her back.
“Yep, you did it!” Ava cheers as Charlotte turns back around with a smile. “You moved the zipper a whole centimeter. Well done, fatty.”
Charlotte lunges at Ava and I quickly jump forward, wrapping my arms around her and holding her back while she pulls and struggles and curses.
“You dick-bag-whore-fuck-ass-licking-twat!” Charlotte screams, not even bothering to keep her voice down.
“Fuck right off, you selfish cunt!” Ava yells back.
Charlotte stops struggling and I let out a low whistle.
“Damn, going right for the C U Next Tuesday, huh? That’s harsh,” I tell her.
Ava shrugs. “It couldn’t be helped. Can we call a truce for now and get this shit show over with? Aunt Claire is going to start throwing punches if she goes much longer without champagne.”
I drop my arms from around Charlotte and she takes a deep breath for courage. I decide to keep my mouth shut for now and suck this crap up a little longer. I’m pissed and I’m frustrated and I just want this whole thing to be over with, but I know it’s just as bad for Charlotte. She’s nervous about everything running smoothly with the wedding she’s been planning since she was a little girl, she’s pregnant and scared and now her dream dress that she loved the minute she first tried it on six months ago doesn’t fit. And least I have one good thing in my life that makes all of this bullshit better, even if I’m now afraid of his penis.
Ava and I leave the dressing room first and I hold the curtain open for Charlotte to walk through. Mom, Aunt Claire and Aunt Jenny stop talking and stare at Charlotte as she walks out of the room.
Mom immediately bursts into tears and Aunt Claire silently grabs a box of Kleenex from the table next to her, shoving it into mom’s stomach.
“Oh, honey, you look so beautiful,” Mom gushes as Charlotte smiles at the praise, lifting up the skirt of her dress and doing a little twirl.
“Why isn’t your dress zipped?” Aunt Claire asks when Charlotte stops twirling.
“I’m stressed. I’ve been stress-eating and gained a little weight, and it’s no big deal and it happens to every bride,” Charlotte rambles.
“Oh, my gosh, you too?” Aunt Jenny asks. “I’m so nervous and excited about the wedding I’ve been eating in my sleep. I’m sleep-walk eating.”
Mom blows her nose and Aunt Claire holds up her empty champagne glass, signaling to the owner of the shop. “Something tells me I’m going to need a refill.”
Aunt Jenny continues as Mom tosses her tissue and box of Kleenex to an empty chair. She walks behind Charlotte to try and zip the dress, glancing at the camera man and sound guy standing next to Aunt Claire with their equipment pointed right at Aunt Jenny.
“Do you guys ever take a lunch break or anything? Now might be a great time for that,” Mom informs them.
Daren the camera guy, or Dicky Daren as Uncle Drew likes to call him, who has been recording our family’s every move for the last two weeks, tilts his head to the side of the camera and shrugs.
“Sorry, folks. Producer says I have to get everything. Don’t worry, they’ll edit out anything they don’t think is interesting.”
At this point, the documentary their filming will be approximately 85,000 hours long instead of a two-hour special. Our family doesn’t know how to do anything uninteresting.
“Does that mean you’ll include the footage of you letting Drew fondle your wanker? Because that was pretty interesting, Dicky Daren,” Aunt Claire says with a wink.
“He didn’t fondle it; he grazed it on accident when he tripped over the microphone chord! I have never let a dude fondle my penis!” Daren argues. “I mean, not that it’s wrong or anything. I’m down with the gays and they’re cool and everything, but I prefer chicks on my dick.”
Stan, the sound guy, elbows him in the side and nods to the camera.
“Fuck! Of COURSE I didn’t stop recording,” Daren mutters, shifting the camera more securely on his shoulder and moving his face back behind the eye piece.
“You should be loud and proud about that shit, Dicky Daren,” Aunt Claire says with a laugh. “You got at least an hour of footage of Drew going on and on about how big your penis is and how he’s pretty sure it’s the size of his forearm. Do you know how many women you could bang if that airs? Seriously. You’d have to beat them off with a stick.”
Mom laughs, her fingers still trying to pull up the zipper that won’t budge. “Forget the stick, he could just beat them off with his python penis.”
Daren starts muttering to himself behind the camera, something about crazy women and how he doesn’t get paid enough for this shit, and we go back to pretending like he’s not there.
“Okay, back to what I was saying,” Aunt Jenny continues. “I couldn’t understand why I gained like ten pounds in two weeks until I woke up one morning with an empty box of Ho Hos on my pillow and chocolate smushed on the sheets. Drew assumed it was poop and thought I wanted to try some skate play. I tried for over an hour to convince him it was just chocolate, but he didn’t believe me. Now he won’t shut up about it and keeps telling me there’s no shame in admitting I like poopy sex.”