Chapter 1; Bad Morning
What defines being sick? Fever? Coughing? Sneezing? Looking green? Being covered in itchy spots that really shouldn't be scratched at? Throwing up? Not being able to use the lavvy despite a burning desire to do so?
Haru listed all these horrible feelings and knew that, no, she wasn't sick. She just felt like she was growing slimy fur on the inside of her throat, stomach and skin. The shower had helped, so had a nice cold drink of juice, but she still felt like she number twos that wouldn't come, and she was certain that her tonsils were growing something covered in slime and fuzz.
She hadn't slept well the night before either. It had been too hot to stay beneath her covers, and just too cool that she didn't want to be without them either. Then the day had turned out to be cold and muggy. That shouldn't work, but it had. The air felt sticky and clingy and warm, but at the same time it was definitely chill out, not cold, but definitively un-warm.
Maybe it had something to do with the day before being really hot and her going to bed smelling – and feeling – sweaty.
Now, feeling like this, she was supposed to dress up and go to a wedding? She had two options. She could go despite feeling worse than she looked, keep smiling and pretend that nothing was the matter. After all, who knew? Maybe she'd feel better out of the house. Her other option was to stay home and feel sorry for herself, letting down her friends, when she had promised to be there.
Haru poured another glass of juice, brushed her teeth, and had another shower. She would go. Not going wasn't an option, not really. After all, she was maid of honour and second bride – her wedding was to be immediately after. There would be the first "I do's", a speech on the importance of fidelity and the sanctity of marriage, and then it was her turn to step up and say those two little words. Two little words that had a habit of changing people's lives.
Her husband-to-be was best man to the first groom, so they were both guaranteed to be there. Haru just wished that she could feel better for this, what was supposed to be the happiest day in her life.
Haru sighed and pulled on the elegant little number that was essentially her wedding dress. It was ever-so-slightly-off-white, a kind of milky, creamy colour rather than the white of snow.
She'd just got her shoes on – a pair of low heels that matched her dress, classic style, like the matriarchs of the thirties and forties, only she didn't have to worry about putting the heel down wrong and falling over in these. Haru sometimes lamented that she'd never gotten the hang of heels, but just now, she rushed to the door. The sound of a car horn out front summoned her and she went, despite feeling furry on the inside.
It was the car that was taking her to the salon, where her hair and face were going to be fiddled with by the professionals the first bride had hired for the occasion. Haru almost choked when she saw it though. It was a white Rolls! The epitome of old-fashioned style and tasteful money.
"I'm going to have to work over-time to pay for these weddings," she sighed to herself, thinking of the bill. She had hoped that it would be cheaper, combining the two weddings, than having them separate, but it was still going to be pricey. She had a good income: she was a successful artist, earning easily what the weddings were going to cost and more, but she would have rather had a small wedding.
Haru relaxed into the Rolls anyway. It was her wedding day, she wore an elegant dress and she had a white Rolls at her disposal; everything was perfect, except the way the weather seemed to cling to her.
Sitting in the beautician's chair, with the air conditioning and the relaxing music, she started to feel better. If only they would stop insisting that she ought to let them put her hair up in some weird style: she had told them already, all she wanted was curls with a little something woven in for interest.