know,
but it seems that a cream-colored invite with a gold border was so much
more different than a white invite with a gold border . . . you women . . .
I don’t know if I should be worried or not, but Sally’s mom hasn’t
seemed to have received an RSVP from you yet! Now I no I don’t need one
from you because I’m just presuming you will be there!
love, rosie
71
The reason why I am writing and not ringing is because I want to give
you time to think about what I’m asking you. Myself and Sally would be
honored if you would allow Katie to be our flower girl at the wedding. We
would need to no quite soon so that Sally and Katie can pick out a dress.
Whoever thought this would be happening, Rosie?! If someone had told
us ten years ago that your daughter would be a flower girl at my wedding we
would have just laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. But it is
happening. And I can’t quite believe it.
The second question I have to ask you is the one I’m sure you will need
to think about. You are my best friend Rosie; that goes without saying. I
have no best friend over here. No one that measures up to what you mean to
me; therefore I have no best man. Will you be my best woman? Will you
stand beside me at the altar? I no I will definitely need you there! And I trust
you will organize a better stag night than any of my male friends over here!
Think about it and let me no. And say yes!
Love to you and Katie,
Alex
You have an instant message from: ROSIE
Rosie:
Ruby:
Rosie:
Ruby:
Rosie:
Ruby:
Rosie:
Ruby:
Ruby:
You won’t fucking believe it.
You got a date.
No, worse than that, Alex has asked me to be his “Best Woman.”
I don’t suppose that means you’ll be standing to the left of him in
the church??
Eh no . . . to the right.
What about his brother?
He’s an usher or something.
Wow so he really is going ahead with it?
I think you should stop waiting for him now, honey.
Rosie: Yep. Looks like it.
Rosie: I know. I probably should.
chapter 10
k
My “Best Woman” speech
Good evening everyone, my name is Rosie and as you can see Alex has
decided to go down the non-traditional route of asking me to be his best
woman for the day. Except we all know that today that title does not belong
to me. It belongs to Sally, for she is clearly his best woman.
I could call myself the “best friend” but I think we all know that today
that title no longer refers to me either. That title too belongs to Sally.
But what doesn’t belong to Sally is a lifetime of memories of Alex the
child, Alex the teenager, and Alex the almost-a-man that I’m sure he would
rather forget but that I will now fill you all in on. (Hopefully they all will
laugh.)
I have known Alex since he was five years old. I arrived on my first day
of school teary-eyed and red-nosed and a half an hour late. (I am almost sure
Alex will shout out “What’s new?”) I was ordered to sit down at the back of
the class beside a smelly, snotty-nosed, messy-haired little boy who had the
biggest sulk on his face and who refused to look at me or talk to me. I hated
this little boy.
I know that he hated me too, him kicking me in the shins under the table
and telling the teacher that I was copying his schoolwork was a telltale sign.
We sat beside each other every day for twelve years moaning about school,
moaning about girlfriends and boyfriends, wishing we were older and wiser
love, rosie
73
and out of school, dreaming for a life where we wouldn’t have double maths
on a Monday morning.
Now Alex has that life and I’m so proud of him. I’m so happy that he’s
found his best woman and his best friend in perfect little brainy and annoying
Sally.
I ask you all to raise your glasses and toast my best friend Alex and his
new best friend, best woman, and wife, Sally, and to wish them luck and
happiness and divorce in the
but it seems that a cream-colored invite with a gold border was so much
more different than a white invite with a gold border . . . you women . . .
I don’t know if I should be worried or not, but Sally’s mom hasn’t
seemed to have received an RSVP from you yet! Now I no I don’t need one
from you because I’m just presuming you will be there!
love, rosie
71
The reason why I am writing and not ringing is because I want to give
you time to think about what I’m asking you. Myself and Sally would be
honored if you would allow Katie to be our flower girl at the wedding. We
would need to no quite soon so that Sally and Katie can pick out a dress.
Whoever thought this would be happening, Rosie?! If someone had told
us ten years ago that your daughter would be a flower girl at my wedding we
would have just laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. But it is
happening. And I can’t quite believe it.
The second question I have to ask you is the one I’m sure you will need
to think about. You are my best friend Rosie; that goes without saying. I
have no best friend over here. No one that measures up to what you mean to
me; therefore I have no best man. Will you be my best woman? Will you
stand beside me at the altar? I no I will definitely need you there! And I trust
you will organize a better stag night than any of my male friends over here!
Think about it and let me no. And say yes!
Love to you and Katie,
Alex
You have an instant message from: ROSIE
Rosie:
Ruby:
Rosie:
Ruby:
Rosie:
Ruby:
Rosie:
Ruby:
Ruby:
You won’t fucking believe it.
You got a date.
No, worse than that, Alex has asked me to be his “Best Woman.”
I don’t suppose that means you’ll be standing to the left of him in
the church??
Eh no . . . to the right.
What about his brother?
He’s an usher or something.
Wow so he really is going ahead with it?
I think you should stop waiting for him now, honey.
Rosie: Yep. Looks like it.
Rosie: I know. I probably should.
chapter 10
k
My “Best Woman” speech
Good evening everyone, my name is Rosie and as you can see Alex has
decided to go down the non-traditional route of asking me to be his best
woman for the day. Except we all know that today that title does not belong
to me. It belongs to Sally, for she is clearly his best woman.
I could call myself the “best friend” but I think we all know that today
that title no longer refers to me either. That title too belongs to Sally.
But what doesn’t belong to Sally is a lifetime of memories of Alex the
child, Alex the teenager, and Alex the almost-a-man that I’m sure he would
rather forget but that I will now fill you all in on. (Hopefully they all will
laugh.)
I have known Alex since he was five years old. I arrived on my first day
of school teary-eyed and red-nosed and a half an hour late. (I am almost sure
Alex will shout out “What’s new?”) I was ordered to sit down at the back of
the class beside a smelly, snotty-nosed, messy-haired little boy who had the
biggest sulk on his face and who refused to look at me or talk to me. I hated
this little boy.
I know that he hated me too, him kicking me in the shins under the table
and telling the teacher that I was copying his schoolwork was a telltale sign.
We sat beside each other every day for twelve years moaning about school,
moaning about girlfriends and boyfriends, wishing we were older and wiser
love, rosie
73
and out of school, dreaming for a life where we wouldn’t have double maths
on a Monday morning.
Now Alex has that life and I’m so proud of him. I’m so happy that he’s
found his best woman and his best friend in perfect little brainy and annoying
Sally.
I ask you all to raise your glasses and toast my best friend Alex and his
new best friend, best woman, and wife, Sally, and to wish them luck and
happiness and divorce in the
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