I will comfort you
The first thing I become aware of is the sound of people talking. Josh doesn't usually watch TV in the mornings but it's been known to happen. It's not at all uncommon for him to have the volume up a little too loud or to be arguing with the people he sees, regardless of whether they can answer him.
I hear some laughter and some of the haze starts to lift from my sleep-deprived brain. My eyes snap open. I'm not at home. I'm at the White House.
I'm getting married today.
My heart starts racing. I have no idea why.
I shift on the unfamiliar bed until I'm flat on my back, staring into the darkness. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous about getting married to Josh? I've loved him for a long time; I've wanted to marry him for a long time. Why does it feel like butterflies are trying to escape my stomach?
I'm somehow unreasonably nervous and utterly exhausted. The exhausted part is from being forced to sleep in unfamiliar surroundings without my fiancé, and my mother keeping me up fairly late as she insisted on giving CJ, Helen, and Annabeth a blow-by-blow of my childhood, youth, and early adult life. I want to cut my mother some slack—because I can tell that me getting married is very emotional for her—but since she was the one who kept insisting I go to sleep then making me wait as she told "just one more" story, I'm blaming her.
I look over at the clock and groan; it's half past six. Who the hell is having such a good time in the other room this early in the morning? Granted, yes, I am supposed to be joining the land of the living pretty much any moment now, but this seems excessive.
I grumble as I haul myself out of bed and make my way to the bathroom to take care of business. I don't even bother to look at myself in the mirror because I know I'm going to look like something the cat dragged in then immediately rejected. I'm extraordinarily grateful that I went for the extra expense of hiring a makeup artist for the day. I'm going to need an expert to cover the bags I'm sure are under my eyes.
I find my bathrobe and pull it on with a sigh, pausing for a few long moments before I open the door to the bedroom I'm using. I know that once I step outside, the wedding is in full swing. I'm going to have people around me, asking me questions, telling me where to go, doing my hair, making sure I look just right…it's a little overwhelming to think about. The butterflies flap again, so I take another moment.
I turn and lean against the door, trying to take it all in. In a few hours, everything will be different. I'll be married to Josh. Even though I've known this day was coming for a while now, it's still a lot to take in. I have to keep reminding myself that we're both going to be the same people tomorrow that we are right now; we're just going to be husband and wife.
I hear voices and laughter again and I thump my head against the door as I close my eyes. I can feel irrational resentment welling up inside of me. I'm irritated that people are being so noisy at this time of day, that I was forced to sleep here instead of next to Josh, that I slept poorly without him, that I slept badly the night before my wedding…all of it. I know I need to redirect the rage, but it's not easy. It's going to be a very long day if I'm pissed at everyone.
More laughter—that's definitely my mom. I shouldn't be surprised that she's up before anyone else.
I sigh again and make my way out of the room into living room area, not at all amused to find everyone up and at 'em. "Is this necessary?" I grumble, all of their heads snapping to me.
"Happy wedding day!" CJ exclaims, rushing over to hug me. I'm then surrounded by Helen, Annabeth, and my mother, too, all squeezing me and bouncing excitedly.
"Could we not?" I ask, being released an instant later.
"Ooo, someone's cranky," Annabeth says, a twinkle in her eye as the corner of her mouth quirks up.
"Everything all right, sweetheart?" Mom asks, taking my face in her hands as she studies me for damage.
"I'm just tired," I answer, trying to duck out of her grip. "I didn't sleep very well."
"I can see that," she says.
"Nice," is all I can say in response, still trying to pull myself out of her grasp.
"It's a good thing you have that makeup person coming," Helen adds, making a face as she realizes what she said as I turn my death glare on her.
"Did you guys have to be so loud? What are you doing up so early?"
I can see CJ pull a face and back away a bit, looking a little amused. If I weren't in the middle of being so grumpy, I'd be amused, too. Helen and Annabeth follow her retreat.
My mother doesn't loosen her grip, making me look her in the eye. "Donna?"
I let out a breath and slump a little. "I'm okay, Mom. Promise. Just tired."
"Are you sure?"
I nod, feeling a little sheepish. "Yes. I'm sorry. I really just didn't get enough sleep. I'll be better once I get some coffee."
She rubs her thumbs over my cheeks, smiling before letting me go. She ushers me over to the couch, all but shoving me down and pointing at a tray on the coffee table. "We have some tea all ready for you."
"Thanks, but coffee is what I need right now. I'll probably have some tea later."
She runs her hand over my hair. "I don't think you need any coffee right now."
I pause, staring at her for far too long. "What?"
She sits down, pouring hot water into a mug. "You're already wired. I don't think adding that kind of caffeine to the mix is going to help you right now."
I blink a couple of times then shake my head, trying to clear away the cotton. "Are you serious?"
"Donna, you haven't stopped moving and twitching since you got up."
"What are you talking about?"
She nods her head at me and I look at my hands—my immaculately manicured nails on one hand are tapping on an end table, the other hand is flipping a decorative pillow in every direction it can, and it's only then I realize I'm standing again, shifting from foot to foot.
"You're antsy," she answers with a chuckle.
"Of course I'm antsy," I exclaim, forcing myself to sit down again. I do notice, though, that I can't stop from tapping my nails on any surface I can reach. "It's my wedding day."
"All the more reason to keep the caffeine intake to a minimum."
I look to my bridesmaids for support, somehow not surprised to find them all missing in action. Cowards. I don't blame them one bit.
"Mom, I drink coffee every morning. Every. Morning. Sometimes more than that. But I need that first cup of coffee."
"Sweetheart, relax." She shoves a mug into my hands. "This is why you don't need coffee. You're on edge."
"I'm on edge because you're treating me like a child."
"You just have too much energy. Tea will help calm you down."
"Do you think the massive headache that comes along with no coffee is going to help my disposition?" I can feel my voice rising a bit.
"Calm down."
"Calm down?"
"Yes. You're turning red and splotchy. Have some of your chamomile," she urges, gesturing at the mug in my hand. "It's soothing."
Instead, I put the mug on the coffee table, being very careful not slam it. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Donna, language."
"Language my ass. It's my wedding day. Due to some archaic notion, I wasn't allowed to sleep next to my fiancé last night, which means I slept like garbage. Now, my mother won't let me have my morning coffee. I'm an adult on the morning of her wedding and my mother won't let me have coffee because she thinks she knows best."
"Donna—"
"Don't talk to me right now."
"Donnatella—"
"I'm serious, Mother. I really can't talk to you for a few minutes."
"Hey!" CJ exclaims suddenly, making me jump. "How about a shower?"
"One last hurrah before I get married?" I ask reflexively.
"You sound exactly like Josh when you say things like that," she says, squinting her eyes at me.
"Sorry. Yeah. I'll go shower."
"Don't forget—you're not supposed to wash your hair," my mother says and I pause for a second, making myself take a few deep breaths before I say something unnecessary.
"Okay," I answer without looking, shuffling back to my room. I close the door behind me and let out a breath. I'm aware that I'm overreacting a bit, but I think it's fair to say that my mother is being wildly unreasonable. Not letting me have coffee? Seriously?
I start to gather my shower stuff, trying to shake off my foul mood, and notice my cell phone is blinking. I flip it open, grinning when I see a text message from Josh. For a long time he claimed he'd never get into texting, saying that it was just as easy to make a phone call, but since realizing it meant he could communicate with people when he was supposed to be doing something else, he's become a big fan.
-Good morning, Gorgeous! Happy wedding day. Hope you slept well. Just wanted to say I love you-
-Morning. Slept badly without you. Mom won't let me have coffee-
I barely have time to put the phone down before it beeps, letting me know he's responded.
-She won't let you have coffee?-
-She says I don't need it-
-Has she met you?-
I can't help but snicker at that. I may not have been much of a coffee drinker in my younger days, but working at the White House—and particularly with Josh—helped me understand the merits of a caffeine-fueled life.
-I'm just really mad right now-
-No doubt. Take it easy on your mom, though-
My eyes grow wide and I feel indignant. He actually agrees with her?
-What?-
-Not taking her side. Understand the need for coffee. Just meant her heart is probably in the right place-
-You're probably right. I'm still irritated-
-I promise my first job as your husband will be to bring you coffee-
-You're sweet-
-Even if you want it as soon as we say I do, coffee is yours-
-I love you so much-
-I know my woman. Don't deny her coffee-
-I just need a few minutes to regroup. Going to shower- I pause before typing again. –I'll get over it, I just need to be dramatic first-
-Does it make any difference to know how excited I am about today?-
-It helps. I'm excited, too. Ready to be your wife-
With that, I put the phone down, feeling a bit better about things, and pull my hair into a knot on the top of my head. Apparently, my hair styles better when slightly dirty. So even though my hair today is going to be relatively simple, I was told by the hair stylist that's coming in I couldn't wash it beforehand to make it easier to deal with. Since she's done my hair for a few different occasions, I'm inclined to take her word for it.
Still, the shower is less than relaxing. I'm still exhausted, my stomach is still fluttery, and I can't shake my irritation at my mother. I know it's ridiculous but I don't really appreciate being handled, especially not over something like my morning coffee. Caffeine deprivation is an ugly look on a lot of people, myself included, and while I do know her heart is in the right place, it doesn't mean I'm thrilled with the execution of it all.
When I can't delay any longer—not without someone coming in to drag me out—I step out of the shower, drying off and lotioning up, taking my time with it. Ultimately, all of this is a fairly big deal. Everything I do today is the last time I'll do it as a single woman. Well, maybe not single, but unmarried. It all feels kind of heavy. Ready as I am to be married to Josh, it's unnerving to consider that a huge part of my life is ending.
I have to stop thinking of it as "ending," though. Nothing is really ending; it's more like a new chapter, or a movie sequel. Though, sequels usually suck, so maybe I shouldn't use that analogy. Regardless, getting married is a big deal and it's not something to be taken lightly, though I don't think that we have. We've talked about it constantly for a long time. We've spent the last decade together in some form or another. We're beyond ready for this.
I force myself out of my head and toss my pajamas back on, adding the robe for extra warmth and putting my cell phone in a pocket, and head back to the living area, not surprised to find even more people roaming about. The hair and makeup people are here, plus extra members of the First Family's staff and detail. The kids are probably still asleep though I imagine the President is up and in the office by now. Annabeth hustles by, shoving a plate of food in my hands. I look at it dubiously as my butterflies continue to bounce around in my stomach. Food might not be such a hot idea right now.
"You'll regret it if you don't," CJ says, appearing next to me. "You forced me to eat breakfast on my wedding day and it was probably the best thing you could do for me as my maid of honor, so now I'm returning the favor." She puts her hand on my back and ushers me over to the kitchen island, all but shoving me in to a chair before flopping down next to me. "I know you probably feel…funky right now. Your stomach's weird, your head's weird, and the thought of trying to eat anything right now feels impossible and disgusting but trust me…you're going to need it. You'll feel better once you do. You have a lot of hours before you'll have a chance to sit down and eat again. Today is going to be nonstop beginning in about thirty seconds. Eat now; we'll try to slip you some snacks as the day goes on, but you're going to need as much fuel as possible." She nudges the plate toward me, staring at me until I take a few bites. I'm relieved that it doesn't feel like it's going to come right back up, and that it actually does make me feel a little better.
She watches me as I eat, making sure the interruptions are minimal, and I'm vaguely aware of people constantly knocking on the door to the Residence. This place really is a flurry of activity right now.
"Is Donna here?"
My ears perk up at the sound of my name, ignoring CJ as she tries to convince me to keep eating.
"Yes," I hear my mother answer. "Who are you?"
"I'm Bram. Josh wanted me to give this to her."
I step away from the island, easing over to the door to find Bram, holding a cup of Starbucks, face to face with my mother. I can see her smile tightly, reaching for the cup. "I'll just take that—"
He shifts so the cup is out of her reach, looking very uncomfortable with the entire transaction. "I'm sorry ma'am—no disrespect—but Josh said to only give this to Donna. He's kind of my boss and…I don't want to have to tell him I couldn't manage this part."
I swoop in and grab the cup from him, holding it up to my nose and inhaling the heavenly scent. "My almost-husband is amazing."
My mother sighs, reaching for the cup halfheartedly. "Donna…"
Bram clears his throat, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere than wedding central. "He said it's an early wedding present? I don't know, ma'am. He just said it was vitally important to get a skinny grande caramel macchiato to Donna so she could start her day off right."
Mom looks skeptical but I'm already sipping my coffee. It's only at that moment I notice a photographer snapping my picture, and I all I can do is hope they weren't here when I was fighting with my mom.
The coffee, however, is absolutely perfect. One of our regular baristas must be on duty. Granted, I've never had one of these that tasted bad, but there are a couple of people at our coffee shop that seem to do better than others. It doesn't even matter at this point—it's just such a relief to feel the caffeine flowing through my veins.
"I hate to break up the moment you're having with your coffee there, Donna," CJ says, looking at her watch, "but we actually have to start getting you ready soon."
I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, checking the time. "It's hardly even eight."
She smiles at me regretfully. "I know, but the ceremony starts at three and the photographers need a few hours to get all their pictures done." I make a face involuntarily—I don't want to think about how I'm going to be twisted this way and that for all those pictures. CJ chuckles a little. "That's not to mention that you're going to have to greet a few of the special guests before any of that can happen and you can't be in your wedding dress for that. I can send Annabeth or Helen in to get their makeup and stuff done first, if you want some more time."
I nod gratefully, taking another sip of my coffee. CJ squeezes my arm and disappears. I take another sip before I put the cup down—making sure to keep it within view so my mother doesn't abscond with it—and flip open my phone.
-Thank you for my coffee -
The reply is almost immediate. -Any time-
-You work fast-
-I'm very powerful. I know people. I get stuff done-
-Our marriage is off to an excellent start-
I'm interrupted from my texting, my mother's voice jarring me out of my moments of bliss. "Donna, I really don't think the coffee is a good idea—"
"Really, Mom? This is the hill you want to die on? We've had this conversation. You told me I'm not grown up enough to know my own needs and I'm telling you you're wrong. I have a long day ahead of me and even if—and that's a big if—the coffee makes me jittery, it'll wear off before I walk down the aisle."
"Sweetheart, I'm just trying to help."
"I realize that, but do you think handling me like that—telling me that I can't have something like I'm still a child—is the best way to go about it? Do you realize if you hadn't tried to take coffee off the table this morning, I might have been more open to having tea?"
"All I want is your wedding day to be perfect."
"And all I wanted this morning was coffee. I appreciate the effort, but also listen to me a little, all right?"
Her eyes grow misty, her mouth turning down a little at the corners. "I'm sorry—this is just hard for me. I know you're not my little girl anymore and you've been able to take care of yourself for years, but watching you get married…it's hard."
I feel my own eyes growing wet and I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. "You had to go and pull the Mom Card, didn't you?" She chuckles a little at that, sniffling quietly against my ear. "I don't know what this is like for you. I don't know what this is like for Dad. But I know I'm excited about today. I'm ready to be married to Josh. I know things are going to be different after this, but it's going to be a good different. I'm still going to be me. I'm still your kid. I'll still need you…maybe just not to tell me that I don't need coffee."
She laughs loudly at that, holding me tighter for a few moments. "Deal." She pulls back, cupping my face in her hands. "I know I tell you this all the time and it has absolutely nothing to do with your wedding day, but I'm so proud of you."
This time I feel tears spill down my cheeks. "Mom…"
"I'm proud of what you're doing with your life and for taking charge of your future, I'm proud that you want to make the world a better place—"
"You've got to stop," I interrupt her, sniffling loudly. "I can't handle all that right now."
She smiles at me, pulling a tissue out whatever magical place moms always keep stuff like that and dabbing my face. "Okay. I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you, too, Mom," I whisper, folding myself against her gratefully as she pulls me in for another hug.