The Maid of Dishonor
“That was beautiful. Wasn’t it beautiful everybody?” the DJ said with great enthusiasm after the best man's speech.
Yes, I thought. But let’s get this over with. I got raspberry cake to eat.
“And now, up next. Let’s hear from the maid of honor, the only sister of the bride… Liz!”
Oh crap… I thought, choking on the champaign. I knew I forgot something.
The DJ was closing in on me, and I began to sweat. My head snapped over to the right, where Catherine was already staring back at me, her big brown eyes still glassy from the previous speeches. My cheeks became hot.
I quickly raced through the mad-libs style speeches and sappy quote memes I had read on all those wedding blogs. But they all appeared blank in my mind, hours of late-night research betraying me in my moment of need, the fog of disappointment clouding my memory.
I reluctantly took the mic, so cold and heavy in my clammy hand. When I stood up from my seat, the chair squeaked as I pushed it back. The bridal party was all on an elevated stage at the front of the ballroom, and as I looked down at the 200 people before me, I surrendered to the idea of letting down my only sibling on her big day.
Then suddenly, a lone web page appeared in my mind, rescuing me from ruin. It was fuzzy at first. I squinted my eyes to bring it into focus, hoping, praying it would be the perfect sentiment for this joyous occasion.
I brought the mic up to my chin and took in a deep breath, sucking thick air right into the bowels of the speakers. It muffled the sound of my heart thumping in my chest, like it too wished to make a great escape.
“What’s the best way to remember your anniversary?” I asked the crowd. “Forget it just once.”
My right index finger pointed straight up on the “once," to really emphasize the joke for anyone who didn’t get it. But the silence that fell over the room was painful. I wished, for the first time in my life, that my mom would clear her throat in that annoying way she always does. But not even my mom’s allergies could save me now.
Just then, Steve, a family friend sitting straight ahead, sensed my distress. He let out a single guffaw, “ah-HAH!”, and the pity reverberated through the ballroom and shuttered the temporary wall behind me. Hesitant chuckles and a literal slow clap followed. I think I did a little curtsy.
“Cheers to the bride and groom!” I shouted before hoisting my champaign glass and taking a big, regretful gulp. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard before looking over at the newlyweds.
I had one job, I thought. One job!
After throwing the mic back to the DJ, I sulked away to the bathroom, wishing my sister was the only child she had wanted so badly to be when we were kids. I hid in the far stall and allowed myself 10 minutes of self-loathing before checking out the raspberry cake.