Everyone knows that at a wedding everyone one will be focusing on just one thing – the bride’s bouquet. There is a lot of pressure on me to be perfect, not a single petal out of place. I will be the centre of attention all day long. the centre of the all of the wedding photographs, and at the end of the day, suffer the indignity of being tossed into the air for some hysterical wedding guest to scoop inter her arms, thinking I am going to be able to resolve her unfortunate marital status.
Ah – now there she is – the bride herself. Doesn’t she look pretty? Although not as pretty as myself – however it is hard to compete with a bouquet like myself. What would help is if she showed us a smile of some sort. She does not look particularly happy right now. It’s probably some pre-wedding jitters. They all get it – these young brides – they are all the same.
It will be fine as soon as she picks me up and walks out in front of all the guests that make up the congregation today. I overheard the florist who put me together say that it’s not going to be a church wedding. Instead they have opted for one of those swanky country hotels where they can have the service and the reception all under the same roof. It’s obvious that they are spending a lot of money on this wedding – well, they must be wealthy to be able to afford such an impressive bouquet as myself. She slept here last night with her two sisters – the bridesmaids and her parents. After all she is miles away from her home in Dumfries.
All nerves will melt away as soon as she sets eyes on the groom. Oh hello – who is this then? It must be the groom himself. It’s unusual for a groom to come to see the bride before the wedding service. But by the way he is kissing her, it could only be him.
I wonder why she is crying. This should be the happiest day of her life. Why is she telling him she doesn’t love him anymore? Did he just call her a liar? This is all getting rather dramatic, now I’m getting nervous. I think I’m losing some of my myrtle leaves. Please don’t tell me that she is going to pull out of the wedding! I can’t make out everything she is saying from over here on the dressing table, but I’m sure she just told him she never wants to see him again. Now he is on his knees pleading with her.
Oh here she comes, goodness her face is red as a poinsettia. I can hear her now. “How can you say that you love me now? It’s not fair. I gave you my heart Matt. I gave you everything I could, and you kept on telling me you wanted no commitment. You were the one who left me remember? You moved to London and left me looking the fool back home. How can you turn up now and tell me you love me?”
“I was an idiot Chloe. I know that now. I was so full of myself and what I wanted to do with my life. I needed to get out of our hometown and see some of the world. Al least that’s what I thought. The pandemic made me realize what a fool I had been to leave behind the person who brought me more happiness than anyone else. As soon as the lockdown ended I went back home to come and find you. I bumped into one of my old mates who told me you were engaged. So I lost courage. I didn’t want to ruin your happiness. But when I saw the photo in the Galloway Gazette about your wedding this weekend, I could tell that you are not happy.”
“You are wrong. I am happy.”
From where I’ve been sitting, it’s been pretty obvious she is not a happy bride. This guy Matt looks desperate. He’s picked a bloody stupid time to come and tell her how he feels. Is he really expecting her to pull out of her wedding now because he turns up at the last minute telling her he loves her?
“You can’t marry Trevor. You can’t marry him because you would be living a lie. You don’t love him Chloe. I know you don’t.”
“Matt, it’s over. Please leave. You don’t have any right to say these things. I want you to go, and I never want you to try to make contact with me again.”
That was the last time I saw Matt. But that’s not the end of Chloe’s story by any means. An hour later, Chloe picked me up and we made our way down to the hotel function rooms along with her father and her bridesmaids. It was one of the most disastrous weddings I have ever been to. I could tell something was wrong from the way she was gripping me. She throttled me so tightly that my petals started turning blue. That was not just bridal jitters, there was something else going inside her.
She got through most of the service. But when it came to the vows, it was a relief for me to be passed to the hands of one of the bridesmaids who held me gently. Just when I was recovering from Chloe’s choking grip, the moment I had been dreading came. She began to mutter, “I can’t do this.” There was a hushed conversation between bride and groom and her father. I heard her apologetically stammering, “I’m sorry Trevor, I’m sorry. I don’t love you. It would be wrong for me to go through with this.”
That was all I saw for the rest of the day. Somehow in all the confusion, the bridesmaid who I had been entrusted to dropped me, and I lay on the floor for the rest of the afternoon until one of the hotel cleaners picked me up and put me on top of her cleaning trolley. The rest of my time was rather depressing – rather than being tossed into the air to be caught by a hopeful singleton, I was tossed into the trash and ended my days next to a rotting banana skin and a pair of old sneakers.
I was fuming! Chloe had ruined my big day. I was supposed to be the star of the show, the centre of all the photographs and the prize that every single female guest wanted to go home with. That silly girl took all that away from me – the heartless bitch! Brides are so fickle these days. If you ask me it’s better to end up on a hotel reception desk, or even on a funeral casket than it is to be a wedding bouquet. At least there won’t be any last minute dramatic changes of plan.
I heard through the grapevine that Chloe ended up a belated bride, but this time in a small chapel closer to home. It was a much more low-key event than the wedding I was planned for. I was told that this time she chose a simple white bouquet, probably not wishing to be upstaged again by a bouquet like myself. I also heard the groom was named Matthew Paterson and that he had known Chloe since she was at school. Well, in the spirit of forgiveness, I hope she is happy – even though she humiliated me and ruined my big moment. I wonder how that bloke Trevor is getting on?