Page 152 of Love Me in the Dark
Chris made fun of my ignorance. “What did you think, Jayne? Hunting is the point of these places.” However, he promised we’d find another resort after the wedding.
2
In the morning, I held it together for Margo. We had plans to leave camp soon after she rode off into the sunset anyway. Chris and I would enjoy our time in Africa away from places like these.
As Margo and I prepped in her suite, she told me she had a choice of getting hitched in the bush at a scenic spot, on the banks of the river, or in the Baroque-style lodge chapel right outside her window. She chose to tie the knot under a beautiful tree with lots of shade.
Thank God. That short walk to meet her this morning was way too hot for me.
In this heat, we’d already ruled out wearing makeup. We twisted our hair into natural-looking updos. Margo added sprigs of beads as if she were a florist, red in my light hair and white in her red hair.
“I’m having major déjà vu,” she said as she sprayed my thin hair, escaping the bun and trailing around my face.
“We wore our hair up for number one,” I reminded her.
“Hush. That was ten years ago.”
This would be the third time I was Margo’s maid of honor and never a bride. A couple of marriages under my friend’s belt wouldn’t stop her from wearing white.
“This is why my mother isn’t invited,” she joked as our dresses arrived.
Having wrinkled on the flight, the staff had freshly steamed them.
“Can you believe she suggested I go to the courthouse this time?”
I nodded.
“Jayne, nothing’s worth doing unless you go all out. Why should the fact that I’ve been married before keep me from finding happiness now? Or celebrating as if it was the first time?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I love that you follow your heart.”
Margo’s fire engine red hair appeared beside me in the floor-length mirror. She winced. “I hope you still feel that way when you see your dress.”
Pressing her gown against my torso, she leered.
It wasn’t her dress.
Apparently, I’d be wearing white too. Our dresses were identical. Thin, white, and simply elegant but also like I’d imagine for Africa like we wereRomancing the Stoneor something.
“What the hell, Margo?”
“I figured it might be the only time you get to wear one.” She laughed heartily at my situation, throwing her head back and everything.
“Well, since you have a collection now….” I slammed with a smile.
The other bridesmaids came into her suite before she could react. They were all wearing the same white dress. Margo informed me that the men would be wearing white as well.My alone time with her over, I backed off to let her newer friends fawn over her and tell her how they absolutely loved their lodgings and planned to shoot a million pictures tomorrow on safari. Feeling relieved no one mentioned their dates or husbands shooting, killing anything, I thought I might stay, after all, to get more time with my old friend.
It wasn’t hard to back away and finish dressing on my own. With a laugh that could travel a mile, Margo had always been the center of attention. I, on the other hand, was plain. A plain Jayne like my name suggested. I’d even changed how I spelled my name, J.a.y.n.e., instead of the J.a.n.e. on my birth certificate.
It hadn’t helped.
I was still the little girl who didn’t stand out in the crowd. A woman who could disappear in a group of four. Dishwater blonde with average brown eyes, an ordinary nose, skin, teeth, and body. I was just plain unremarkable. My new bangs hadn’t helped, either. While the other women made their identical white dresses look distinct, I made mine plain.
Margo twirled, the fabric flowing around her as her laughter filled the room. “How do I look?”
“You look remarkable, sweetie.” I hugged her before we all squeezed into our hooker heels. “But why these shoes?”
“My fiancé has a fetish,” she declared as we headed out the door.
