Frontwards

Tuesday 26th February, 2006.

We got up at the crack of 9.30 this morning to go and see the church that we’ll be getting married in. Holy shit that’s a weird concept.

Note to self: don’t say holy shit when in a church. You’re already so close to being thrown in Hell already.

So anyway Frank and I went to the church. Linda offered to come with us but Frank said he wanted it to just be the two of us, which I was actually kind of happy about because I feel very on-edge around Linda even though she is lovely. There is just something about her which scares me a little. I think because Frank is such a mummy’s boy, I get nervous about her not liking me or something. Hopefully that will go away over time because she pretty much has to like me once I’m married to her son and mother to her first grandchild.

“Ah, the future Mr and Mrs Iero, I presume,” came the booming voice of the vicar from the other end of the church. The pulpit? Fuck, I don’t know anything about churches. I haven’t been in one since my dad’s funeral. I haven’t been avoiding them, per se, it’s just that I have no reason to be inside them if not for weddings or funerals. I’m not a religious person and I don’t know anybody that is. Which is probably a good thing, for I do not lead a very Christian life. The bastard child in my abdomen being exhibit A.

“That’s us,” Frank said, plastering a smile on his face. I got the feeling he was a little uneasy being in here, too. I hoped it was for the same reason as me, and not because he was getting panicked about the realisation that this wedding is actually going to happen pretty soon.

“Wonderful to meet you both,” the vicar grinned with his big pearly teeth. He was middle-aged and chubby and generally looked like quite a warm character which I suppose is always an advantage for a man of the cloth. People are supposed to trust him and shit. He had a very trustworthy face. “I’m Father Coleman.”

We shook hands and I tried not to think about Gary Coleman but it was very difficult.

“So you say you’re in something of a hurry regarding your wedding?” Father Coleman asked. “May I be so bold as to ask why?”

No, I thought, you may not. But instead of saying this I just smiled and placed a hand on my belly. “Well we’re expecting a new addition to the family in around five months,” I smiled sweetly.

I don’t know if I expected the vicar to tell us off for being naughty Christians and not waiting until marriage, but I definitely didn’t expect the reaction we got.

At first his face folded into a wide smile, and then his eyebrows furrowed and he looked like a happy pug and he PUT HIS HAND ON MY FREAKIN’ STOMACH and I was terrified that he might start crying.

“A child,” he whispered, his smile still oh-so-wide, “is truly the greatest gift from God to man.”

And then he was quiet for ages and he was still touching me. It made me extremely uncomfortable. It takes me a long time to get to know someone to the point where them touching me doesn’t make me feel sick. This guy needed some new boundaries.

But I thought maybe that was normal for a vicar so I just sort of stood there and looked over at Frank and we were both confused but we just held hands and waited for it to be over because what else could we really do?

After what seemed like approximately one thousand years, Father Gary stepped backwards and opened his eyes. They were all dewy. Oh god.

“You are blessed,” he said quietly.

Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?

I had no idea if we were meant to thank him, or what. We just sort of smiled and nodded.

So after that awkward bit of weirdness, we were taken on a little tour around the church. It was only small, like Frank said, but it was very pretty. Most churches look basically the same to me but this one had a nice stone floor and mahogany pews and pretty flowers and shit. It was cute. The little dressing rooms were all white and modern as well, which was a nice contrast from the old-fashioned stone chapel. All in all, I liked it. It was just what we wanted.

“So,” Frank said, as we were led into the vicars office or whatever they’re actually called. I already told you I don’t know that stuff. “How soon can we do this?”

The vicar began to whistle and search through his desk. After a couple of seconds of this, he found a diary. “Right, let’s see what we can do,” he muttered, flicking through some pages. He did that thing where he licked his finger before turning the page. I hate when people do that.

As he was pondering and hmm-ing and whatnot, I let my mind wander away to a land where Frank and I were already married. It’s not an easy thing to imagine. So much has happened in the past few weeks that the thought of us managing to have a hassle-free wedding was almost inconceivable.

“Right,” Father Coleman announced, snapping me out of my daydreams, “I can marry you on Monday.”

I was very confused because he was looking right at me and smiling. But then I realised he meant that he could marry us, not that he could marry me. So that was better.

Monday, my dear friends, is less than one week from now. Is that even possible, I hear you ask, to arrange an entire wedding in five days?

Well I fucking hope so, because that’s what we’re doing.



Wednesday 27th February, 2006.

Of course, everybody thought we were insane.

Linda insisted that it would be near-impossible. Kate was panicking about getting the soonest flight over. Alice only cared about dresses. Mikey was concerned that we’d end up with no catering. Gerard was grumbling on and on about having to take a week off album preparations. Ray and Bob were trying to find dates.

But Frank and I just kept calm and did what we needed to do. Thankfully my list-making skills could be put to good use so that we knew where we were. Today we applied for our marriage licence, invited all of Frank’s guests, called in a favour from Linda’s friend to provide flowers, got our cars sorted, and developed a seating plan.

This whole wedding malarkey is surprisingly easy when you have good organisational skills and a small guest list and a relatively large budget.



Thursday 28th February, 2006.

Kate will be in New Jersey before 10pm. God I’m so happy to be seeing her.

When Linda had asked me kindly whether I had any more family or friends I wanted to invite, I didn’t even care that I had to respond with a negative. Kate is my family and my friends. I mean, I had friends at university but we didn’t stay in contact. They weren’t the staying-in-contact kind of friends. I only needed one best friend, thank you very much.

I could barely concentrate on anything all day but somehow, thanks in large part to Frank and Linda, we got the cake sorted. Apparently Linda’s cousin Jenny has a bakery in New York and would be more than happy to help us out. There is nothing quite as touching as the family values of American-Italians. It’s lovely.

So that’s Mikey happy. Ray says he has convinced one of his ‘close female friends’ to come along as his date, and Bob keeps making jokes about going alone and chatting up one of Frank’s cousins, but Frank tells me he only has one female cousin and she’s 11. Gerard is also going date-less, because he has become obsessed with the idea of ‘converting Kate to penis’. He really is unbelievable. But I don’t want to dampen his dreams so I let him convince himself that he is capable. Quite insane.

As for Alice, I’ve assured her that dress shopping is now my priority. Everything else is more or less done. The church, the reception venue (some fancy-ass hotel), the food, the guests, the flowers, blah blah blah.

It all gets very boring after a while, let me tell you. I simply don’t care what the cutlery looks like or what breed of begonias are being used. All I care about is that I’m going to marry the man I love in front of the people we both care about. I just want everybody to have a nice time. I don’t give a flying shit about napkin origami.

“That’s what I love about you,” Frank grinned as I shrugged with indifference at the fabric swatches I was being given for the chair covers. “You’re just so chill with everything.”

I smiled as he pecked my cheek. Across the kitchen table, Alice was rolling her eyes and waving around the two materials. “Satin or silk?” she asked for the millionth time. They looked exactly the fucking same to me.

“Um,” I said, cocking my head. “That one.” I don’t even know which one I pointed to but it seemed to satisfy her so she shut up and scribbled something down and put it in the pile of notes for Linda.



Thursday 28th February, 2006.
9.50pm.

I saw her hair before I saw the rest of her. It seemed to be pulling her along. She had piled it all up on top of her head and somehow stabilised it with a hairband. The woman has something of a glossy mane, like a bunch of black grapes trailing down her back. So not fair.

But as I’ve said before, comparing myself to my cousin is always futile. It only ends up with me feeling bad about my own plain looks. Albeit plain looks which have cemented a relationship with a rock star.

“DAISYYYYYY!” came a shrill squeal as her eyes caught mine, and she waddled over to us (waddling due to the weight of her big-ass suitcase) and dropped her bags and gave me a huge hug which I know she knew I wouldn’t appreciate but I couldn’t mind all that much because I had missed her so.

“Hey sugar tits,” I grinned as she finally released me from her death-grip. I thought her eyes looked all moist for a second but then she blinked and they were fine again.

“Well hello, pie lady,” Kate grinned back. “And hello Frank, nice to see you again.”

Frank smiled. “You too,” he said, and then his face furrowed into a rather confused frown. “Pie lady?”

I sighed. “Because I’m fat,” I explained, rolling my eyes.

Kate smirked and gave a small shrug. I could read her so well. “Right then,” she said, bending down to pick up her bags again. “Might as well get going, eh?”

Somehow we managed to fit all of her crap (and she had a massive suitcase as well as 2 huge handbags that she somehow managed to smuggle on as hand luggage) into Frank’s little Chevrolet Metro. I asked him once why he didn’t buy a new car because he could definitely afford it, but he just sort of shrugged and said that he liked his car, it got good mileage and never broke down. Plus it was inconspicuous enough so that he was less likely to get recognised and nobody would ever think to steal a 1999 Chevy. I had to agree that this was sound logic.

For the ride back, Kate bantered on about the hot flight attendant whom she swears she was this close to turning gay for her, and also about the crying baby sat behind her. I agreed that crying babies are the worst and then was kindly reminded that that would be my whole life in just a couple of months. Fantastic.

When we got home, everyone was gathered in the living room watching Child’s Play. Bastards. I freakin’ hate those little doll things. In fact I hate anything that pretends to be human. Dolls, puppets, masks, clowns, and so on. They all creep me the fuck out.

“Hey guys,” I announced as we entered the room. I flicked on the light switch just to make myself feel a little safer but nobody else seemed to appreciate it. “This is my cousin, Kate.” Five interested faces turned to check her out. “Kate, this is Alice, and Ray, and you remember Gerard and Mikey, and this handsome being on the beanbag is Bob.”

They each in turn gave a welcoming smile and Kate gave a small wave back. “It’s great to finally meet you all,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Bob chuckled a little. “You both have such funny voices,” he observed.

It wasn’t long after this that we retired to bed. After all, us women had an exciting day of dress shopping ahead of us.

Hip-hoo-fucking-ray.