I will be the best man that anyone could be for her.
Or I will try to be the best man that I can be for her, anyway.
I will try really hard.
As soon as the nausea passes.
I feel around for my phone and find it in one of the pockets of Nolan’s leather jacket, along with a bunch of condom packets and paper napkins with women’s names and numbers on them. I am confident that Nolan was the one who was wearing this jacket and collecting phone numbers for most of the night, and I want to murder him because he must have had my phone on him for most of last night too.
At least I hope it was last night that we went out. It had better still be December 30th.
My phone is dead, of course. So I crawl out of the bathtub in search of my charger and the nearest outlet that is as close to the ground as possible. Because I will be staying as close to the ground as possible for as long as possible.
The clock by the bed tells me it’s 2:47 pm, but it doesn’t tell me what day it is because it’s an asshole.
Nolan is passed out on the floor right beside the bed, with a hat that says Designated Drunk. Surprisingly, he is not wearing my clothes. He is wearing my cousin Billy’s clothes. Billy is sprawled out on the bed. It looks like he had fallen asleep while he was in the middle of either putting my clothes on or taking them off. His trucker hat says Dancing Diva, and to my understated delight, someone has drawn a penis on his forehead in black ink. I hope it was me.
I pull the hotel phone down off the desk, randomly press a button, and ask whoever answers to send all the coffee to my room immediately. I also ask them to call Maddie for me, but they don’t know her number, and neither do I. I ask them to call my ma, and they fail me again. That’s why I have to rip the phone cord from the wall and close my eyes for just a few minutes.
When I open my eyes again, the clock says 4:01 pm. We’re supposed to be at the church for the rehearsal at five. That is, if it’s still today.
I reach for a nearby shoe and hurl it at Nolan. It hits him in the face, but he doesn’t even twitch. I find another shoe, toss it in Billy’s general direction. It hits the wall and drops onto his head. He sniffles, mumbles “nuh-uh,” and covers his head with a pillow.
My phone has been charged and hallefuckinglujah, it’s still December 30th. And there are a couple of texts from Maddie. One from last night, and one from this morning.
MADDIE: Good evening, sunshine. I got your messages earlier. Just wanted to let you know that. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I wanted you to know that too. There’s a lot that I want you to know. It’s not the kind of thing I want to say in a text, though. At least not when I’m sober. So if you still want me to come to Cleveland, let me know. I know you’re busy with your family, so I won’t get a ticket until I hear from you. I hope you ate something. I hope your heart still goes on. <winking face emoji> Mine does.
MADDIE: Morning, sunshine. I know you’re busy. I just wanted you to know that I’m still here. Still in New York, I mean. But I’m still here for you too. Which is probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said out loud, but there are a lot of cheesy things I want to say to you. Let me know if you want me to come say them in person. And don’t forget to hydrate.
Oh, Maddie Cooper. I will eat. I will hydrate. I will say all the cheesy things out loud to you, but not until I let you say whatever you need to say to me and listen closely and never forget a word.
There are a couple of missed call notifications from her too, but no voice mails. I call her back, but it goes straight to voice mail. I start to leave a message, but a shoe hits me in the head, and both of my cousins are suddenly awake and yelling at me to get ready to go like they’ve been waiting for me to wake up for hours. Assholes.
I text Maddie two words: Yes. Come. And then I get ready to go.
I wasn’t able to spend much time looking at myself in the mirror, but I feel like I look like that alien from the Sigourney Weaver movie. If anyone cuts me, my acid blood will burn through the floor. I don’t remember ever eating anything last night, but I also don’t want to eat or smell any food for a few more days. Or hear music or move or talk to people. Which is unfortunate because now we’re at the rehearsal dinner in a private dining room at a supper club by the river, and I am surrounded by food and music and talking people. Some of them are children. Loud children. The loudest children in the world. I know that I usually love all of these people a lot, but they all need to shut up and sit still and leave me alone so I can curl up under this table and cry while I wait to hear back from Maddie.
I stare at the empty chair at this table, pouting like a big fucking baby. I’ve called her six times, and it keeps going straight to voice mail. She
