The Less Than Perfect Wedding Read Free

should spend this Christmas with your parents."
    That was not what I expected. I hauled myself up, pulling out of Alex's embrace to stare down at him. "What?" I exclaimed. "Are you crazy?"
    On this point, unfortunately, my boyfriend didn't seem to be willing to back down. "We spent Christmas last year with my parents," he pointed out in what I felt was an unreasonably calm and logical manner. "It's only fair that we alternate whose parents and families we visit."
    "You've met my parents before!" I argued. "You know what they're like! If we spend Christmas with them, we'll just end up being constantly caught in the middle of their constant arguments."
    Alex was nodding as I spoke, but I recognized the gesture. This was his 'understanding' nod, the comforting, sympathetic movement that he would use to put his clients at ease before delivering bad news. "Maybe, if we're there, we will distract them from their squabbling," he offered, using his extra-reasonable tone of voice.
    I kept on trying to protest, but I knew, long after I admitted it to Alex, that he had won this argument. He had picked his battlefield well; I was warm and sleepy after my shower, and my eyelids were sagging from the moment that I crawled into bed.
    Eventually, Alex was able to extract a sleepy agreement that, two days before Christmas, we would pack our bags and make the hour-and-a-half drive to my parents' house. Even as I finally slipped off into sleep, I couldn't figure out why in the world Alex would want to see my parents, much less for three days. The weird, strained relationship between my mother could drive anyone - Alex included - up the wall with frustration.
    The next few weeks passed fairly quickly, possibly fueled by my dread of the approaching reunion. I called my parents to announce our plans, and was immediately met by a giant wave of guilt-inducing commiseration from my mother.
    "Oh, I'm so glad that at least one of my daughters will be able to come and see your poor parents!" my mom enthused on the phone, making me wince from the sheer psychological weight of her emotional spear thrusting from the receiver.
    "What about Susan?" I asked. "She never misses coming home for Christmas." Mainly for the chance to upstage our parents by making an even bigger scene, I added inside my head.
    My mother sniffed loudly into the phone. "Apparently, she would rather spend her winter vacation partying with her friends," she complained. "Someplace slutty, I'm sure. Florida, or Mexico, or the Caribbean, someplace where two scraps of clothing is considered fully dressed."
    I made the appropriate clucking noises into the receiver, working for her to work through her griping. In the back of my mind, however, I was feeling a spurt of jealousy - mingled with a hint of grudging admiration. My younger sister would definitely enjoy this Christmas more than I would.
    "Well, we're going to drive out to your house two days before the twenty-fifth," I announced, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "The spare bedroom will be open for Alex and me, right?"
    "Yes, I'll have your father move his things out," my mother said. "If need be, he can always sleep on the couch."
    "Wait, what?" I broke in before she could go on further, my tone conveying the shock that I felt. "Is Dad sleeping on the guest bed all the time? I know that you two argue sometimes, but I didn't realize that it was that bad!"
    "Oh, it isn't that bad. Rick is just often up later than me, and it's easier for him to just lay down on the guest bedroom so that he doesn't wake me up," my mom said quickly. Her reassurances sounded hollow to my ears for some reason, however, and I felt the sudden need to distance myself from the conversation.
    "Well, great," I said, searching for an out. "Is Dad around? I could say hello to him."
    There was a rustling sound from the other end of the line as my mother lowered the phone. "Rick!" I heard her bellow, the call repeated a second time a second or two later.