As the car approached the town, I noticed a few changes. There was a McDonald's where an empty field once stood. The big car dealership was gone, the lot full of trash and the building windows boarded up. The convenience store across the street was still there, still just as dirty as in the old days, with the same rusted gas pumps and the same overflowing trashcan out front.
The car turned down a side street, and headed east. The houses became more run down, cars on blocks in the front yards, hordes of filthy children screaming and playing in the street. The driver had to slow down and swerve more than once to keep from hitting them.
Why did I receive an invitation to my nephew's wedding? I hadn't laid eyes on or even spoken to anyone on that side of the family in years. The last conversation with my sister didn't go so well, a repeat of so many others.
As the car slowed, I looked out the window, and realized I had reached my destination. The driver pulled up in front of the house, got out and went to the trunk, pulling out my bag, and then to the rear door. He opened it for me, and as I got out, he said in an undertone "Ma'am, are you going to be okay to be left here? This neighborhood is pretty tough."
I ducked my head to hide a smile. "Thanks for your concern, it is a bit rough, but I grew up here. It's all good."
The driver swept me with a look, then took a sideways glance at the house. "If you say so ma'am." I knew what he was thinking, that I totally didn't look like I ever belonged here. And he would be right. I never did.
I smiled and took the handle of my suitcase from him. "Thank you for the ride, I hope you have a great rest of the day."
He smiled back, if a bit warily. "You too ma'am." He got back in his car and drove off, and I turned to face the house where I had grown up.
Hard to believe, but it looked pretty much the same as the day I drove away in my battered old pickup truck, heading to the big city. The male family members were gathered on the porch as usual, sitting on a motley collection of ancient and broken chairs, milk crates and wooden boxes, beers in one hand and cigarettes in the other. As it was a wedding day, Harley-Davidson t-shirts were the prevailing fashion statement. At least most of them were clean, since the wedding was later that day.
As I walked up the driveway, every eye was on me. The cloud of cigarette and weed smoke was eye watering. One of the older men stood up and walked out to meet me right as I got to the edge of the porch. He was wearing a black Hard Rock Café Las Vegas shirt and jeans with the right knee torn out. Classy, as always.
"Well, look what we got here. Never thought I'd see you at this house again. Whattaya doin' here?" He asked.
"Well Uncle Rich, I was invited to my nephew's wedding. That would be why I am here." I replied. Oh yes, we were off and running. The start of twenty-four hours of unmitigated hell.
My uncle glanced over his shoulder to my nephew sitting off to one side, leaning over a table to snort something off the plate sitting there. "Boy, you invite your aunt to the wedding?"
My nephew sat up rubbing his nose and sniffling. "Nope, not me." He glared at me with bloodshot eyes. The last time we spoke was my nephew calling me names that would make a sailor blush. He took a swig off the bottle of beer in his hand. "Weren't Brandi neither, she fucking hates you."
I sighed. I knew I shouldn't have come, but I thought I would try one last time for some sort of reconciliation. I stepped up on the porch, pushing past my uncle who just stood there blocking the steps and drinking his beer. No one bothered to get up and open the door, or offer to help with my suitcase. Typical. Not like I expected it anyway. I opened the screen door and stepped inside.
The first thing that assaulted me was the smell. I remembered it from my childhood; a combination of mildew, ancient dusty carpet, stale booze, and rancid grease. I walked through the entry into the kitchen, which was full of my female relatives and their friends, all talking at once, getting various things ready for the wedding. As the younger women noticed me standing in the doorway, the chatter died away. The looks ranged from amazement to inquiring to animosity and outright hatred.
The bride was standing in the middle of the large kitchen surrounded by what I could only assume were bridesmaids. They looked more like a group of dancers from the local strip joint and whore house. Considering Brandi, the bride, was a 'working girl' there at the Blue Bunny, most likely these were her co-workers. My sister was standing in front of her, adjusting her veil. When my sister realized that everyone was staring at the door, she turned and saw me. Her face ran through a range of emotions, none of them particularly pleasant. She finally settled on a look of pained antipathy, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand, the other on her hip.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, her lips tightening into a thin line as she looked me up and down. Of course I was dressed in my usual attire, a Christian Lacroix suit with a matching silk blouse, and a pair of Louis Vuitton pumps. The outfit probably cost more than most of the cars out front.
My sister made a noise of disgust, and turned back to finish adjusting the bride's veil. The bride's hate-filled eyes narrowed and slid up and down, taking in every detail of my appearance. Her mouth opened, and she let out a hiss of jealousy. She took a deep breath, nearly causing her bargain basement double Ds to pop out of the too-small bustier top.
"What are YOU doing here?" She demanded. She looked at my sister. "What the FUCK IS SHE DOING HERE?" Her voice grew louder with each word.
"I don't know." My sister said through gritted teeth. "I sure as hell didn't invite her."
One of the girls dressed in a strip of slashed Spandex that barely covered her nipples and genitals came over to Brandi and offered her a hit from a tiny spoon. Brandi snorted it and her nose started to run immediately. Another young woman dressed in a tube top that looked like a strip of bandage and a micro miniskirt a size too small rushed to Brandi's side with a wad of toilet paper. Brandi continued to stare hotly at me while she wiped her nose.
My sister turned to me and hissed, "I want to talk to you. Now." She walked out of the kitchen, leaving the bride to the ministrations of her flock of gabbling bridesmaids. We walked past the game room, several men playing pool or watching the others, well on their way to becoming drunk. I followed my sister up the stairs to her bedroom, still hauling my suitcase. No chance I was going to leave it down here in Coke-Whoreville. The room still looked exactly the same, hideous avocado green shag carpet with the ancient cheap furniture gotten from our parents house when they died. Even the bedspread was similar to the one I remembered. Welcome to 1975.
I walked into the middle of the room, and my sister shut the door behind me. I turned around to see her with her hands on her hips, chest heaving angrily. This was going to be a good one.
"What in the fuck do you think you are doing, showing up here?" She demanded.
"I got an invitation." I replied shortly.
"That was so you could send money, NOT show up here and fuck up everyone's day. Do you really think anyone wants to see you? What with your big city attitude and expensive clothes, acting like you know every fucking thing. When did you ever help out around here? You KNOW we could use some help!" My sister exclaimed.
"Yeah, help. Right. Looks like you have more than enough 'help', as my nephew was snorting up half of Peru out on the front porch." I said, disgusted.
"He HAS an ILLNESS!" My sister screeched.
I shrugged. "Whatever. This was a bad idea, I see you people are just as bad as I remembered." I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber. ETA was five minutes. Huh, that was weird, must have been one in the neighborhood. "I'm out of here. You enjoy the wedding."
I turned and left my sister's bedroom and started down the stairs. A flood of profanity flowed down the stairs after me. My sister's vocabulary had never really progressed past junior high, and she was reminding the neighborhood of the fact.
I walked into the kitchen where the bridesmaids were all whispering to each other. I pulled an envelope out of my purse and threw it on the counter.
"Congratulations." I said to the air, not bothering to look at anyone. As I walked out of the kitchen, I heard a mad swishing of cheap Wal-Mart taffeta as Brandi made a beeline for the envelope. I opened the door and stepped onto the porch, pulling my suitcase behind me. Most of the men had wandered out into the yard, or into the living room to watch TV before the wedding.
The same Uber driver who had dropped me off at this hellhole pulled up. He jumped out and all but grabbed my bag from me.
"That didn't take long. Glad you were still in the area." I told him.
He grinned as he stowed my suitcase in the trunk. "I was parked around the corner, just in case. I had a suspicion you wouldn't be staying." He winked at me.
He opened the door and I slid into the seat, ready to get the hell out of this half a horse backwater. He closed the door and got behind the wheel. As he put the car in reverse and started to back out of the driveway, the screen door to the house crashed open, and Brandi came flying out screaming, followed by the rest of the wedding party and my sister.
"Holy crap!" The driver blurted out, whipping out of the driveway and slamming the car into drive. As he sped away, the wedding party tried in vain to intercept us. The driver floored it, and we leapt away down the street.
I turned to see Brandi running down the street after the car waving the envelope I left on the counter, my sister in hot pursuit, both screaming like banshees. Brandi's carefully adjusted veil blew off and my sister nearly tripped over it. It tangled around her feet and she couldn't avoid trampling it.
As they grew smaller, I started to grin. I couldn't help it, and then a giggle burst out despite trying to hold it back. I looked up at the rear view mirror, and the driver was looking back at me, grinning from ear to ear. He joined me, us both giggling madly for a few moments. He pulled onto the freeway, and we were well away from anyone trying to chase us down.
We finally got ourselves under control, and the driver asked me "Well, where would you like to go ma'am? I'm guessing you don't even want to stay in town?" He looked dubiously at me in the mirror.
I laughed again. "To the airport, my good man. I figured this is how things would go down, so my return ticket is for later today. Even if I had stayed for the wedding, I would have left immediately afterwards."
He nodded. "If I can ask, what happened to cause them to act like they were a pack of dogs on a mail truck?"
"I grinned. "My wedding card to the happy couple. It was just that. A note written inside said 'May you both get exactly what you deserve.' And the card was empty. They were expecting a large sum of cash like I gave my niece. Like that was going to ever happen, they'll just drink, snort and tattoo it away."
The drive to the airport was relatively quiet, broken by an occasional snort of amusement from the driver's seat. I stared at my hands, thinking that this was the last time I would ever see my family again. And I was okay with that.
After about 20 minutes we arrived at the airport.The driver looked into the rear view mirror as we pulled into the airport loading zone and grinned again. He hopped out, grabbed my bag from the trunk, and opened my door with a flourish. I got out and took my bag from him.
"Thank you so much for the ride." I said, shaking his hand.
He grinned, returning the shake with both of his. "Thank YOU for the best laugh I've had in a long while. I'll cage a few drinks at the bar with this story."
He shut the door as I stepped up on the sidewalk and trotted back around to the driver's side. I waved as he got in and drove away, and he waved back, probably still grinning. I gave my boarding pass to the airline employee waiting to check my bag, and as soon as he saw it was first class, waved a porter over to deal with my bag. I entered the airport, heading towards the first class lounge for a drink and something to eat while I waited to board my flight back to NYC where I belonged.
I'm sure this is so true in many parts of the country :D Thanks for posting!
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