It’s funny how some common life events can bring people to say and do some pretty ridiculous things. My sister’s wedding was certainly no exception to this rule, and it turned out to be one of the most memorable nights of my life for too many reasons to count.
Julia, the oldest between myself and younger sister, was getting hitched to her sweetheart of nearly six years on a warm summer day. The party was enormous compared to most wedding ceremonies and receptions with clusters and bunches of friends, family, and acquaintances all talking, toasting, and scheming to grab more drinks and cause some mischief.
I remember my mother scampering up to me fuming and frustrated with misty eyes as dinner was being served to everyone in the sunlit ballroom. “Clark, I cannot get Aunt Rhonda to take it easy and your father and I cannot afford to deal with her right now. This is your sister’s day and I need you to do something about it!!!”
Aunt Rhonda wasn’t really my Aunt. She was my mother’s best friend since high school and the two of them got together at least once a week for coffee, a workout, or for a “Wife’s Night Out”...as they liked to call it. Unfortunately, it had been a hard year for Rhonda coming off of a brutal divorce and she began to turn from one of the most cheerful people I grew up with, into a social train wreck.
I straightened my collar and sighed in preparation to hopefully take Rhonda down a few levels. Over by the front corner table, I spotted her waving a glass of chardonnay and pointing a bracelet-adorned hand at one of the bridesmaids.
“I CANNOT BELIEVE you let our darling Julia look like her makeup was modeled after a Raggedy Ann doll...AND ON HER WEDDING DAY?! You shouldn’t be allowed near blush EVER AGAIN!!! I watched my sister’s best friend Emily breakdown and shuffle away in embarrassment, trying to keep herself together after being berated. But Rhonda just stood rigid and fierce as a tigress in her white blouse and tight olive tube skirt as I approached, raising her eyebrows high and scowling. It was unfortunate, as Rhonda really was a mature, beautiful woman and all around great person, like family to us, but continuing to cope with past heartbreak had begun to consume her.
“Hey-hey-hey, Rhonda, why don’t you trade me that wine for some water hm?” I tried lightening the mood by being playful with her.
“Jesus Clark, you’re handsome sweetie but a goddamn fool if you think your sister looked her best walking down that aisle. And why on earth didn’t anyone tell her about that dress? I could spot that panty-line from San Francisco...and if I see that pimple-faced photographer take another candid of me one more time...”
There was no stopping her in this state, and she stormed off taking a generous gulp from her glass and driving her leopard print heels hard upon the floor.
As I stood there with beer in-hand, anxiously clutching my lower lip for her guaranteed outbursts during some grand toast or announcement, a hand came upon my shoulder.
“I’ve got this."
My teenage sister Marie had a confident look in her eye and grinned like a cheshire cat.
“Yeah Marie, you think you can funnel her enough drinks to pass out so we can drive her back to the hotel?”, I teased.
“Nope. Just let me handle her.” She winked and exited our little conversation.
At this point, I was puzzled about not only what my parents really expected me to do about Rhonda before the night got started, but what Marie had in store.
I sat back at our family table as the main toasts were about to commence and the center chamber was bathed in twilight and the glow of candles. Marie was still nowhere to be found as I glanced at the halls leading to the back rooms and kitchen area, but Rhonda took another generous sip from her glass and strode towards the hall, adjusting her high and tight blonde bun as she walked.
At this point, I nearly sprayed my swig of beer all over the table as I witnessed hands shoot out from the shadows behind Aunt Rhonda, clasping tight around her waist and mouth as she silently thrashed down the dimly lit hallway with her captor, only seeing tiny glints from her jewelry and bulging eyes as she kicked her legs in dull thuds until they were gone. Attempting to blurt out to someone, ANYONE, who just saw what had occurred, it was apparent not another soul witnessed Rhonda’s disappearance as the best man began to handle the microphone and the entire party stared intently in anticipation for the first of many long speeches.