(This is my entry for the
April Fools Day Story Contest 2023
contest. Please rate and vote! Thank you!)
"Boy, you sure look like you need a drink..." I look up from the stoop where I'm sitting. The bartender FINALLY is here. Antelope Hill, Wyoming has some stupid law where liquor can't be sold on a Sunday. It's "the Lord's day". Sure everyone stocks up on Saturday and drinks at home but apparently what really God cares about is buying it...NOT drinking it. I always forget about this stupid law when I return home. Today I need to drink....a lot.
The gas station, on the edge of town, won't even sell me liquor. I hiked all the way out on I-80 in 6-inch heels to find that too. Semi-truckers were honking at me. I've never figured out if that's a compliment or an insult. I begged and the answer was still no...losing the liquor license. I might be a cop...blah blah blah. All the usual reasons. I intend on doing some serious drinking today. Luckily, Berta is working. I went to high school with her. Berta takes pity on me.
"Well, there's an underground bar The Red Pony...opens at noon. It's illegal to sell liquor but if the mayor and the police chief drink there what are you going to do?" Berta tells me. I nod. The Red Pony is a block away from my hotel. I've walked 2 miles or 3 kilometres to get out here and now I've got to go all the way back. Walking in high heels and a full-length formal ballgown isn't fun!
"Fuck" I think to myself. Still, I need a drink or several, and "The Red Pony" appears to be the only place I can get it. So I head back. I'm afraid I'll run into somebody if I head back to the hotel so I've been sitting on "The Red Pony's" doorstep for the past ½ hour.
"How can you tell...about the drink?" I ask.
"It's not very often we get a woman in a black full-length ballgown with streaked mascara sitting on our doorstep." says the woman. "I'm Olive...named for my grandmother. Come in."
"Lisel...named for my grandma too," I say. She's about ten years younger than me. My little sister's age.
"What can I get you?" she questions.
"Boilermaker," I say although I don't know why. I hate boilermakers. I'm probably subconsciously trying to punish myself, even though I've done nothing wrong...or some fucked up Freudian bullshit like that.
"I know who you are..." says Olive. "You're the oldest Pffer girl....the one who married a Chinese guy and ran off to Canada."
I take a sip of my boilermaker....there's A LOT to deal with in that statement...BUT Antelope Hill, Wyoming, where everybody knows everybody, has never been the most politically correct town SO I let it slide. Compared to most Antelope Hill residents, Olive has put it politely.
"Yup!" I say. I want a day of heavy drinking. I need a day of heavy drinking.
"Your sister is getting married today over at St. Joseph's Catholic Church...."
"Yup," I say again, everyone knows everything about everyone in Antelope Hill. I'm sure I could hear all about Olive if I wanted to. I'd just need a last name.
Olive serves me up another boilermaker because I've finished the first one. "I've heard of runaway brides...but never runaway bridesmaids."
"I'm NOT a bridesmaid....NOT even part of the wedding party." My not being part of the wedding party is why I'm sitting in a bar drinking. My voice comes out meaner than I intended. But, I'm a person and I deserve to be pissed off, especially after what's happened to me.
I think back to six am. It was time to get up, hair and make-up...all that high-fluting shit...women are supposed to do for weddings. I struggle to get into the fancy ballgown. It's the first of three gowns I'm supposed to wear throughout the day. I can't believe how much my sister's wedding is costing me. It's already cost me more than my own wedding!
At 6 am, I'm envious of my husband. He's probably still sleeping. He has work so he's back home in Saskatoon with our three kids. I've used my vacation days to come down here. I hate using vacation days to do things like this. I'd rather sit around in my sweatpants watching TV and eating pizza. Still, my little sister is getting married. I feel obligated, plus there were the parental lectures "family event" "bring the kids" "blah blah blah" All that shit...
It's too expensive to bring the kids and they have school. The hubby and kids are home, probably enjoying their weekend. I'm here in Antelope Hill, Wyoming where I was born and raised. I have to get ready for the day SO I head over to Dreams Salon to get styled.
"Sweetie...so glad to see you. Sorry, we didn't talk last night...we just had the Rehearsal Dinner and all of that...you know." I nod. My flight from Saskatoon, Canada was delayed. I got into Antelope Hill past midnight and had to get to the hotel by myself. That's hard in a town with no taxis or Uber, walking is your own option. I was supposed to stay at my parent's house but I yielded my childhood bedroom to some out-of-town cousins SO I stayed at the Days Inn by the airport. Stupid... lousy...cheap Days Inn..with the loud jets taking off and highway traffic. Why do I have to be so nice?
"Where should I sit to get my hair done?" I question. Dreams Salon is busy. All the chairs are full and stylists are attending to everyone. Mani-pedis, facials, hair----the whole works. It's been a long time since I've been pampered. Stupid ungrateful kids and bills are always in the way.
"You're NOT getting your hair done. You're NOT a bridesmaid...but if you WANT to pay to have your hair done I can't stop you. You'll have to wait till everyone else gets done though." comes a voice from the back. It's my little sister.
"What do you mean I'm not a bridesmaid....I'm your sister! You said to bring three black full-length ballgowns. " I say to Emily. I'm enraged and see red.
"Didn't you think it was a bit strange everyone else is in a lavender gown and you're in a black one? Also, I didn't ask you to buy a certain style of bridesmaid gown?" Emily questions impatiently, glaring at me as if I've done something wrong.
Well, at the time that did cross my mind BUT Emily, an Instagram influencer, has always known about "high fashion" and since I became a Mom, my fashion ideas come from Better Homes and Gardens or LL Bean. So I assumed the different bridesmaids' dresses were a high-fashioned trend because of the Pandemic...and "high fashion" is confusing.
"I'm your sister! I came all the way down here for your wedding!" I repeat, looking at my Mom to interject and stand up for me. My other sister and some of Emily's future sisters-in-law are bridesmaids
"Did you really think I would have thirteen bridesmaids? Thirteen bridesmaids is bad luck." my little sister angrily tells me. She starts yelling at the stylist to do her hair right.
"It's her wedding, Sweetie." my Mom says to me. I have a million things to say...I can't call my sister a fucking bitch on her wedding day or toss my cup of coffee on her. She's in her wedding dress. So I give my sister her wedding present. I leave without saying or tossing anything. Actions speak louder than words?
While I'm musing on the day, the bell to "The Red Pony" bar rings.
"You must be the bitch sister." a voice says to me. I turn around to see a man in a tux...a very handsome man in a tux.
"I'm Owen. The groom's brother and I need a drink," says Owen as he starts to shake my hand. He's hot, if only I wasn't married. But, this is a true story, not one of THOSE stories...if you want "Lisel does the Wedding Party" look elsewhere on this site.
"How's it going?" I ask Owen but I don't really care. They can all just go to Hell. I just want to drink. I need to drink today.
"They just got to the front of the church," he says casually.
"The wedding has been going on for an hour," I say. Thinking of my own wedding which took 45 minutes at City Hall. My hubby and I weren't poor...we just needed to spend our cash on things like food...rent...student loans. A 45-minute wedding in Calvin Klein jeans and a white t-shirt. I'm not bitter...okay so maybe I am bitter...just a bit. What girl hasn't dreamed of a princess wedding? Emily has a horse and carriage too. I know. I saw while storming out. At least the hubby and I had food and a warm apartment...also each other I guess.
"Yup...just got to the front...you know how it goes...everything in perfect order..carriage ride...a string quartet...yadda yadda. Everyone was talking about you at breakfast you know, you're scandalous," says Owen as he sips his whiskey.
"You haven't had breakfast?" questions Olive. The first person all day to be concerned about me. She'll make a good therapist. It's what she's going to school for. Olive has short green hair, a nose ring and tattoos on both arms. She's the anthesis of my prima donna sister. Olive fires up the grill and starts cooking.
"Breakfast of champions!" I say raising my boilermaker to Olive. I'm just glad that someone is concerned about me. I'd catch the first flight home BUT Antelope Hill's airport doesn't have a flight out till tomorrow.
"We have nachos and hot wings. I'll bring you both," she tells me...like I said she'll be a good therapist.
"So you saw her wedding dress?" Owen asks me. "Not really," I say as I keep drinking. I hear the bar's bell ring. My uncle Ed and Aunt Joan walk into the bar. I wave hello and they whisper to one another.
"Fuck, I'm a pariah...everyone is going to think I'm a fucking bitch.." I think to myself. Not really caring but sort of caring---mostly wishing I was home in Saskatoon with my own family. At least there I wouldn't be drinking and singing the blues. I'd be spending my precious weekend doing things around the house, like cleaning it or taking my ungrateful kids to hockey practice.
"It's a $47,000 Alexander McQueen wedding gown," Owen tells me.
Beer comes out of my nose as I snort. Forty-seven thousand dollars???? I question. I don't know what I expect him to say....47,000 M&Ms make more sense than forty-seven thousand dollars. Forty-seven thousand dollars is a decent downpayment on a house...especially in Saskatoon.
"Yup!" he confirms. "She flew all the way out to LA to that Kleinfeld store where they film "Say Yes to the Dress" and bought it. It's beautiful though."...as if that's supposed to help. I know my sister has three wedding dresses so that $47,000 dress is just one.
Olive passes me a shot of whiskey. I down it in a gulp. It's a day for heavy drinking.