Page 88 of A Lot to Unpack
I stifle a laugh, nudging his leg with mine beneath the table.
‘Anyway,’ Fred continues, ‘me and this lad here have been mates for over twenty years and I never thought I’d see the day he managed to convince a girl to marry him.’
Oof, it’s so awkward.
‘And now he’s got Hannah,’ Fred continues. ‘So he’s probably going to spend his weekends at IKEA, and we all know what that means, right?’
I really don’t think we do. I don’t think anyone does. And hilariously he carries on his speech without telling us.
Jordan and I giggle together like a couple of school kids at the back of the coach on a school trip. I smile to myself, despite the car crash happening at the top table, because I feel like I have a partner in crime. Someone who sees things the way I do. Who finds the same things funny. Who I know will always make everything fun. I wouldn’t be having such a good time with anyone else today. Definitely not with Ben, who was originally supposed to be my plus one. Ben never really got me – I never really got him either though. He never laughed at jokes – or even pretended to. He’d sit through a speech like this and probably check the score of something on his phone, holding it just below the table so no one saw, oblivious to the fact everyone could tell what he was doing and probably thought he was a tosser.
Jordan is different. He’s here nudging me, whispering jokes in my ear, and making what is frankly the worst best man speech in history feel like something I’ll remember forever – for good reasons though. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in crime, could I?
When it’s finally over, we’re all allowed to mingle. People disperse, buying drinks, dancing – now the party can finally start.
My parents drift over to where we’re standing at the bar, both grinning at us, unable to hide how happy they are.
Dad smacks Jordan on the back in that way dads do when they approve of the man their daughter is seeing.
‘And to think, we weren’t sure you were going to show up,’ Dad says with a glint in his eye.
Jordan smiles.
‘I worried I might not make it,’ he replies. ‘I had to get an emergency filling yesterday, after breaking my tooth.’
‘Ah, I know the drill,’ Dad says, grinning at his own dad joke.
To be fair, that was a good one.
Jordan laughs, which earns him points.
I appreciate him making excuses for me, about why he was late. He’s really got my back.
‘So, Jordan, what are you doing for Christmas?’ Mum asks him as she sips her wine. ‘Spending it with family?’
‘No, my parents are total Grinches,’ he replies. ‘They go on a cruise every year to avoid Christmas. I thought about joining them, but… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right to me. I love Christmas.’
Mum’s eyes flick to me and then back to him, and I already know what’s coming.
‘Well, if you don’t have plans… you’re more than welcome to spend Christmas with us,’ she says casually – although you can tell she’s really hoping he’ll say yes.
I squeeze Jordan’s hand to let him know I’d like that too. He glances at me and smiles.
‘I’d love that,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’
Dad chuckles, lifting his beer.
‘Wait until the end of the night,’ he warns him. ‘See if you still feel the same after you’ve met the entire circus.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll love everyone,’ Jordan says confidently.
Christmas at home is always a bit of a circus, but in the best and most chaotic way. My mum starts planning in November and pretends she isn’t, which means we spend three weeks eating ‘just a few picky bits’ that she’s absolutely been hoarding since Halloween. And it’s tradition that my dad, who eats everything put in front of him, complains about how much food my mum has bought. Between us, and the extended family, it’s not like there’s ever food left over; nothing goes to waste. Isn’tit funny how dads are usually two sides of a coin – a grumpy old man and a comedian who constantly cracks dad jokes? You wouldn’t think two personalities could exist in one man, but my dad wears it well.
Every year it’s the same: Gran and Grandad come to stay – always bringing boxes of local biscuits from the island they live on. Auntie Eleanor comes by with a bottle of sherry ‘just in case anyone fancies one later’ and proceeds to use it as her main form of hydration from the second she arrives until my uncle drives her home. Hannah brings Samuel now – and Samuel brings Monopoly, which I hate. I think that man loves Monopoly more than he loves my cousin.
When I was younger, I used to wish we were one of those polished happy families where everyone quietly got along but, to be honest, the friction keeps things spicy. It makes it easier to hold the ones you love the most the closest. Plus, I might hate Monopoly, but I do love to see Samuel’s face when someone beats him.
There’s something comforting about knowing exactly how the day will unfold. The noise, the warmth, the arguing over who left the Quality Street tin empty except for the toffees – only for some weirdo to pipe up that the only one involving zero chocolate is their favourite. As if.
