Wedding Night Stand: A Chic Manila short story by Mina V. Esguerra
Authors: Mina V. Esguerra
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Wedding Night Stand
How could it be midnight, already?
Andrea wandered back, barefoot, into the wedding reception tent, or what was left of it. Of course her sister wasn’t going to be there anymore. The bride barely slept in the days leading up to this, her big day, and she deserved a break. The ceremony was in the early afternoon, and no one was going to have the stamina to stay this long unless they were paid to.
Water. Andrea needed some water.
“I thought you’d be heading back up to your room.”
It figured that Daphne would still be there, with the catering staff and the guys who brought in the tent. Her sister’s maid of honor/wedding planner seemed to be plugged into a renewable energy source twenty-four/seven, and also had the power to be everywhere at once. Still, Andrea gasped, surprised, like she was caught stealing something.
“No, I…I’m thirsty.”
“Over here then.” Daphne nodded toward a disassembled table, and pulled from behind it a cooler. It looked heavy, and it made railroad tracks on the sand as she dragged it out. Andrea would have helped, if she had been in the right state of mind. Daphne lifted the lid, scanned the contents, and tossed her a bottle of water.
“Shit.” It bounced onto the sand just off Andrea’s right foot.
Daphne laughed. “What’s that about? And here I thought you and Damon were getting along so well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You. Damon Esquibel, assigned to table five. Officemate of the groom.”
“What exactly did you see?”
She lifted the cooler lid again, and pulled out a beer. “I saw you having fun way over there.”
“ Shit.”
Daphne laughed. “So do you want to tell me about it, and do you want to switch your drink to something harder?”
***
Yes, Julie and Andrea had a talk when the older sister got engaged and started planning her wedding. She knew very well the younger sister’s position on the matter, and Julie happened to be a nice enough person, so Andrea was given the courtesy of not having to be the maid of honor, if she didn’t want to. She said she wouldn’t know what to do with the so-called honor, but would gladly help anyone Julie chose to bear the title.
Andrea didn’t like weddings.
Especially lately.
This is making her sound like a horrible person. She still liked cats, and cotton candy. But it also seemed like yesterday that she developed feelings for someone (a dear friend, actually), only to be told that he would rather spend the rest of his life with someone else.
Not in those words. More of, “ Andrea, I think you’re great, but I’m ready to settle down with someone and I don’t think you’re on the same page as me on that. I’m not getting any younger. ”
He went and married a girl he had been dating for three months.
Andrea knew, and cared for, that guy for ten years. Sure, they were never together together, but ten years. He really knew her.
However painful and annoying that conversation was though, it was a wakeup call and reminded her of other things previous boyfriends had said:
“You’re such a free spirit.”
“I don’t want to tie you down.”
“I can’t keep up with you.”
Most of them were married now. To women they could “keep up with,” she guessed.
She hated weddings. She was only in this one because she cared about the couple, and it was a free vacation right before she started at a new job next week.
Bah, humbug.
***
As luck would have it, she was also a sucker for guys who rocked a suit. So much that she watched hours and hours of crappy video on the internet of guys in formal wear, to desensitize and prepare her hormones for this day. She watched wedding videos, awards-night speeches, government press conferences. After that parade of unfit men, wearing ill-fitting outfits, sporting yucky facial hair, Andrea thought she would be ready for her sister’s beach wedding where a good percentage of the guests would be reasonably
How could it be midnight, already?
Andrea wandered back, barefoot, into the wedding reception tent, or what was left of it. Of course her sister wasn’t going to be there anymore. The bride barely slept in the days leading up to this, her big day, and she deserved a break. The ceremony was in the early afternoon, and no one was going to have the stamina to stay this long unless they were paid to.
Water. Andrea needed some water.
“I thought you’d be heading back up to your room.”
It figured that Daphne would still be there, with the catering staff and the guys who brought in the tent. Her sister’s maid of honor/wedding planner seemed to be plugged into a renewable energy source twenty-four/seven, and also had the power to be everywhere at once. Still, Andrea gasped, surprised, like she was caught stealing something.
“No, I…I’m thirsty.”
“Over here then.” Daphne nodded toward a disassembled table, and pulled from behind it a cooler. It looked heavy, and it made railroad tracks on the sand as she dragged it out. Andrea would have helped, if she had been in the right state of mind. Daphne lifted the lid, scanned the contents, and tossed her a bottle of water.
“Shit.” It bounced onto the sand just off Andrea’s right foot.
Daphne laughed. “What’s that about? And here I thought you and Damon were getting along so well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You. Damon Esquibel, assigned to table five. Officemate of the groom.”
“What exactly did you see?”
She lifted the cooler lid again, and pulled out a beer. “I saw you having fun way over there.”
“ Shit.”
Daphne laughed. “So do you want to tell me about it, and do you want to switch your drink to something harder?”
***
Yes, Julie and Andrea had a talk when the older sister got engaged and started planning her wedding. She knew very well the younger sister’s position on the matter, and Julie happened to be a nice enough person, so Andrea was given the courtesy of not having to be the maid of honor, if she didn’t want to. She said she wouldn’t know what to do with the so-called honor, but would gladly help anyone Julie chose to bear the title.
Andrea didn’t like weddings.
Especially lately.
This is making her sound like a horrible person. She still liked cats, and cotton candy. But it also seemed like yesterday that she developed feelings for someone (a dear friend, actually), only to be told that he would rather spend the rest of his life with someone else.
Not in those words. More of, “ Andrea, I think you’re great, but I’m ready to settle down with someone and I don’t think you’re on the same page as me on that. I’m not getting any younger. ”
He went and married a girl he had been dating for three months.
Andrea knew, and cared for, that guy for ten years. Sure, they were never together together, but ten years. He really knew her.
However painful and annoying that conversation was though, it was a wakeup call and reminded her of other things previous boyfriends had said:
“You’re such a free spirit.”
“I don’t want to tie you down.”
“I can’t keep up with you.”
Most of them were married now. To women they could “keep up with,” she guessed.
She hated weddings. She was only in this one because she cared about the couple, and it was a free vacation right before she started at a new job next week.
Bah, humbug.
***
As luck would have it, she was also a sucker for guys who rocked a suit. So much that she watched hours and hours of crappy video on the internet of guys in formal wear, to desensitize and prepare her hormones for this day. She watched wedding videos, awards-night speeches, government press conferences. After that parade of unfit men, wearing ill-fitting outfits, sporting yucky facial hair, Andrea thought she would be ready for her sister’s beach wedding where a good percentage of the guests would be reasonably
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