Snow in April: A Wedding Story
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.
Author's Notes: Long delay back there, but since I only got one complaint so far, I posted this nice, long chapter hot off my fingertips! Um, so yeah. Why the hiatus? Because I was stricken with some sort of disappointment that came from one review - but then I figured I'm only kidding myself since it is only one person. So HMPH. One less person I need to please! Okay, I'm done explaining. Now one to the next chapter!!
Chapter Seventeen: Remy meets the Parents
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March 2, 2003 1:37 p.m. In my shared room
This is pointless.
I forgot how much time a Maid of Honor is supposed to ACTUALLY spend since she IS the Maid of Honor and has to make things all the better for the bride.
Too bad I'm the Maid of Honor.
Today, Jean got a phone call. It was answered by Kurt who was at the moment annoyed with Kitty for leaving out the milk and letting it spoil, ruining his cereal of the day. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading the latest of the Bayville Times, which I had stolen from the kitchen before Logan even had a chance to get to it. Serves him right, the hairy man.
So anyway, the phone rings and Kurt grabs it, huffing a violent, "Yeah?" into the receiver. A few seconds later, his features change and attitude goes neutral. I gave him a questioning face and he talked louder so that I could hear him.
"Oh yes, Mrs. Grey how are you?" I shot up like a bullet, wondering where in blazes was that Redhead. Kurt gave me a "go get her" face as he continued to chat with the elder. So I ran up stairs, going from room to room, looking for Jean, but she wasn't there. Goodness, where could she be on a Sunday? So I race downstairs, showing my defeat. Kurt turned back to the phone, looking worried.
"Wha--? No, she's out at ze moment. Oh," he looked over his shoulder, eyes of gold giving me an ungrateful look. "Yes, she's here. Well, sure." Then he handed me the phone. I gave him a look of horror before hissing, "What are you doing?"
"She wants to talk to you," he shrugged, taking my gloved hand and placing the phone there. I frowned; rose it to my ear.
"Mrs. Grey?" There was a short pause before an old, warm voice answered from the other line.
"Miss Rogue?" Jean must've told her about me.
"Yes?"
"Well, hello dear. How's everything at the manor?"
"Great, thanks for, um, asking."
"Oh, well, can you tell Jean to call me back?"
"Sure."
"Well, then, thanks dearie." There was no click. I wondered why she was still on the line. "Jean mentioned you as her maid of honor, am I correct?"
"Certainly," I said, trying to hide the displeasure in my voice.
"Well, we're throwing a party next weekend and I was wondering if you and the Best Man could join."
"Um, I--"
"I hope there's nothing going on for you then." That meant she wanted us there.
"No, I'll tell Jean. Thanks for calling." Then I hung up.
Turns out Jean was at the church, yelling at some guy who was delivering the trestles that was supposed to be in the pictures when taken at the wedding. Sometimes I wonder if this girl can ever rest.
March 3, 2003 4:15 p.m.
So I come in after school to find Remy laying on the couch, looking sullen and extremely temperamental.
"She kick you out of Scott's room too?" I asked, putting down my backpack. He sighed, turning on his side to face me.
"She wants moi t' meet her parents." I went into the kitchen; he followed. Taking out the bread, I popped two slices in the toaster and turned a wry look at the guy.
"What do you think she's been doing, Remy? It's not like she doesn't just make you stop drinking for her. It's for her parents." I slammed the refrigerator door with lettuce, mayo, tomato, and slices of meat gathered in my arms. Remy came over and started watching the toaster.
"Yeah, but I didn t'ink she was actually serious." He grabbed the lettuce and began washing it. It was my turn to watch.
"Jean's always serious, Rems. It's like her personality. Kinda like..."
"Scott?" He turned off the faucet and pulled at the paper towels. Wiping the leaves, I nodded.
"So when she gonna take you over there?"
"This weekend. Said dere's dis big party and I'm supposed t' go." The bread popped, and I threw the pieces unto the counter. Putting the meat in place, I slathered on mayo and threw in the fresh lettuce. Remy cut the tomato and placed it into the sandwich.
"Yeah, her mom called and told me about that." I took the knife and sliced the sandwich down the middle. Remy took one half and I took the other. "Said she invited me and Kurt too."
"Oh really?" He bit into his piece and chewed thoughtfully. "Then you's coming with us?"
"Possibly," Shrugging, I and bit into my own sandwich. Then he smiled at me with that grin of his and started to walk out.
"Den, I guess it won be so bad after all," he said slyly and slipped out.
For a guy with many personalities, I'm not the least surprised at his comment.
March 4, 2003
Logan did it again.
He left me to grind my teeth and wait next to THAT girl for a freakin' ride.
Please, God. Take me now.
I bet this is about the newspaper. For the love of GOD, it's a NEWSPAPER! If I get my hands on him, there will be serious issues dodging back and forth because of it.
I called the manor. Xavier said he'd send for someone to pick me up.
Augh. I can't take this abuse any longer.
5:22 p.m.
John picked me up.
Does Xavier consider me arrantly dependant on John? I'm hurt.
So anyway, I'm waiting at the Bus Stop, which has a bench and is far away from the girl that makes me sick, when suddenly, a black car stops in front of me. The driver lowers the window and the first thing I see is John, flashing me one of his famous smiles.
"Rogue," he said, "you called?"
I peered in, obviously confused. "Xavier called you? Why you?"
"Fair Dinkum! I thought you'd guess," he said with a pout. "About this time everyone's out doing something or another. And of course Xavier can't pick anyone up, so he rings me in. Says he'd pay me. I said, who am I picking up, and he said Rogue. And I said, forget paying. I'll pick her up free of charge."
"Well, aren't you sweet," a hint of sarcasm in my voice as I climbed into the passenger seat. The door closed and we took off.
"So," John said, after a block or so, "is there anything going on for you at the manor on Saturday?"
"Yes," I answered, avoiding to pause, "Jean's parents invited me and Kurt to their place for the weekend. Said they're throwing a party for Jean and Remy."
Almost immediately, John's face fell. "Are you going?"
I stared at him sideways. "Do I have a choice?" He stifled a laughed, but I knew it was something he did forcefully.
"No, I guess not, Sheila." We stopped at the gate of the mansion, and I got out, pulling my backpack through of shoulder. Closing the door, I noticed John was gripping the wheel a bit tighter and he turned his head to meet my eyes.
"So I'll see you?" I smiled and nodded.
"Sure. Soon, if Jean doesn't pull me out for dress fitting." Three times, I counted in my head and cringed. John smirked and pulled out. I watched as he zoomed off, slamming the brake a bit hard.
March 5, 2003
I told Kitty about John and my little chat and she laughed out loud. I asked her what could be so funny and she went, "HAHAHA! Rogue you are, like, SO dense!"
I demanded she explained her rude by simply stating that John wanted to know what I was doing on Saturday, planning to do something with -me-.
"And then you, like, said you were going to -Jean's- house with, like, Jean and -Remy- and then he's thinking, dern. There goes my, like, night." I watched as she turned back to her new assigned book, Lord of the Flies. "Face it Rogue. You_are_dense."
That doesn't make any sense. How could she know and not me?!
God, I am dense.
March 6, 2003
Okay. There are currently six new dresses strewn upon my bed. Jean, peering into my room, demanded to see what I was taking to her parents' house and almost fell over in shock. I frowned, seeing no need of such reaction.
"What? It's what I wear everyday, Jean," I spat, as she looked at my Gothic garb with a deluded frown.
"Well, everyday cannot mean the week you go to my parents' house." I stopped, taken aback.
"I'm sorry. Did you say a -week-?" Jean looked at me, annoyed.
"My mom didn't mention this to you?"
"Well, she said weekend, and the last time I thought about it, a weekend doesn't mean a week." Jean started clenching her perfect teeth with impatience.
"I'm calling gonna call her," she said, going over and sitting down on my bed. After a quick dial, Jean started screaming into the phone.
"Mom! What is this I hear about a weekend for the Best Man and Maid of Honor?" She looked at me quickly, and then went on screaming, "No! I can't believe this! You were only suppose to meet -Remy-! Remy is all I wanted to bring. What is this..." Pause. Her teeth grinded.
"No! I can't believe this is what you WANT for me! What? Best for me? Are you kidding?!" Another quick look and more grinding of the teeth. "Are you -afraid- of Remy? Is that why you're making my friends come over too?" I wanted to burst out laughing, seeing this as an opportunity to make her gloat the rest of her life. "I can't return the plane tickets! Some sort of policy." Then I realized she wouldn't be able to get me out of this predicament. Oo, my guts grinded within me.
"Bring them along??? Are you insane! I'm accomplishing a wedding, not a party! No, mom, -that- party is at your own consent." Pause. She hanged up the phone.
"My -mother- wants you to come along with Kurt. Why? Why??" She then raced out of my room, flying down the stairs.
"Where are you going?" I asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She turned at the end of the stairs without looking back.
"Out."
Out, and bought me six dresses. They're nothing close to black, not even purple. She doesn't trust me or my clothing.
Oh, how Jean-esque.
March 7, 2003, 3:12 p.m., on the plane to Connecticut
We rode to the airport in Xavier's limo, driven by Logan. He was giving me hard glances through the back view mirror, so I was kinda glad when we finally got to our destination. Waiting to punch in our tickets, I saw Remy's face darken as he looked off to the side. Looking as well, I was surprised to find John waiting by the food court, carrying a small bear with him. Jean was at the front desk, screaming once more at the person behind the computer.
"Grey!" I could hear her all the way to the back of the line. "Our seats read B234..."
"Well, so our paths cross again," John greeted, coming over and patting Remy on his shoulder. "Off to the parents, or so I've heard." He gave me a sly wink and I looked away so I wouldn't meet Remy's eyes.
"Didn' know you's be here," Remy huffed, pretending to shuffle his cards. He wore the trench coat Jean unsuccessfully tried to pry from his grasp. John smirked, undeniably miffed.
"Oh." Then turning back to me, he handed me the bear. "Was digressing whether to get you tucker (food) or Lollies (candy). Decided on neither and bought you dis." It was a small, brown bear with a maroon ribbon. I smiled, avoiding Remy's eyes.
"I'm glad." Then I tugged him away from Remy and Jean, who was now holding up the line since the flight attendant couldn't find our seats. Out of earshot, I asked what I've been wondering this whole time.
"Were you thinking of taking me out on Saturday?" He looked a bit embarrassed, but nodded for an answer.
"Good on ya* to think it up." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a receipt. Handing it to me, he explained he had bought tickets to a Weezer concert but returned them after hearing my decline. I bit my lip, sorry.
"It's nothing, Rogue," he shrugged, but he was lying. I saw it in his eyes. "Have fun. I'll expect to see you on Monday." I frowned; he noticed. "Oh no."
"Oh no is correct," I said, annoyed. "A week, it turns out."
"A week?!"
"Bad communication. It works every time." It was John's time to frown.
"And Remy?"
"What do you mean, 'and Remy'?"
"He staying for a week too?"
"He doesn't really have a choice, John." Silence. I could hear John's anger through his rasping breath.
"Well," he said, giving my shoulder a single pat, "have fun." Then, he walked away.
Remy gave me my suitcase and told me Jean finally got hold of our seats.
"W' her screaming, of course," he smiled, walking with me to the Gate. "So," he said, looking at the bear, "John have anyt'in' interesting t' say?"
"He was surprised that we're staying for a week." Remy looked at me, round-eyed.
"What?! A -week-?" Apparently Jean hadn't told Remy.
So, right now they're fighting with each other and I'm here, playing Evanescence really loud in my earphones. Kurt is next to me, silently trying to read while having his ears plugged.
8:12 p.m., Taxi Cab No. 203, en route to the Grey's house
While walking out of the gate, Jean found out that her parents wouldn't be able to meet us at the airport. We stood by the gift stores while Jean screamed on the phone: "You can't come?! Then what are we suppose to drive home in? What tone? This is what I always use with you!"
Remy huffed, dragging luggage. "She still at her screaming?" he asked, giving me my suitcase.
"Apparently. So you're staying for the week?"
"Do I have a choice?" I smirked; shook my head. Kurt came over, offering newly bought potato chips.
"For my stomach," he grinned, as Jean came over, fuming.
"They're sending a stupid taxi," she cried, bringing a hand to brush away sweat. Catching sight of Kurt's snack, her eyes narrowed. It was like watching a lion before it makes its famous pounce on its prey. "What the heck are those?!"
"Potato chips," Kurt said, daring to show her the contents. "Want any?"
Jean quickly grabbed the bag, pointing at the Nutrition Facts. "23% saturated fat! Have you no CONTROL???"
I snatched the bag from her grasp and handed it back to Kurt. "HE doesn't need control. HE doesn't have to fit into a size one wedding dress. HE..."
"...has it made," Remy finished, standing off to the side and pouting. Jean turned to him, her eyes angered slits.
"Are you -defying- me? Do you -want- to get into another fight?" She pointed her finger and I could see perfectly painted French nails in the light.
"I frankly don care, Jeanie," he said. I could almost see the fire in Jean's eyes ignite.
"Okay, go ahead! Don't care whether or not my parents neglect to even COME to the airport..."
"That's enough Jean," I said, pulling her away from Remy, who had an bold, impish smirk on his face, "how about we go around the place, 'kay? I've never been to Connecticut."
"But it's an airport," Jean protested.
"It's all the same," I reasoned, and dragged her away from the guys. I bought ice cream in a cup, hoping to tempt her to eat. We sat down on a nearby table which over looked the lower terminals.
"I don't understand," Jean said, twisting her hair around her fingers, "They're my -parents-. They should at least care whether or not I come... with my -fiancé- in fact!"
"Careful there," I said, in between bites. Then I pushed the ice cream towards her. "Take a bite."
She looked at it skeptically. "I can't eat that - you know such, Rogue."
"It's ice cream," I said, stating my point. "And it's strawberry. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say this was your favorite."
Another skeptical look. "I don't know how much calories..."
"Eat it. I swear, it'll make your problems vanish." Jean winced; reached for the spoon. Swirling the ice cream, she eyed it carefully.
"Vanish?" She seemed hopeful. I smiled.
"Into thin air." That got her. She ate the ice cream, thinking.
"I thought I'd never eat this again," she said, her voice drenched in pleasure. I smiled.
"That's what they all say."
"Do you think my parents really want me to get married?" she asked. I sat back; uncomfortable. "I mean, they don't show up --"
"If they don't..." she looked at me, sadly, "then make them." Just then, her phone rung, and as she answered it, a sweet smile spread across her face.
"Okay, we'll be there," she said, closing the phone. "The taxi's here. We better go."
So we met Remy and Kurt downstairs and hopped into the taxi. There's no fighting and Kurt bought Jean a cookie which she's been eating while discussing wedding arrangements with Remy.
March 8, 2003 6:12 a.m.
We arrived last night, and were met with...
"A bridal shower!" Jean commented, rushing into her house. Kurt and I exchanged glances as Remy was dragged behind his fiancé to meet the in-laws. Of course, the Greys had their maids haul away our luggage into the guest rooms, making us mingle with the crowd. I had worn the off-white suit Jean made me wear a few hours ago, and felt a bit awkward while moving towards the appetizer table. Kurt was bombarded by relatives before he could even get near the food, so I took a plate to him.
And was met with the same aggression.
"Well, hello, sweet-cheeks," greeted a relative, an arm around Kurt as he gobbled up the sushi, "I'm Clara, Jean's aunt. I see she's got some taste..." She eyed Remy with idol eyes. I rolled my own.
"Yeah... well..." Then another grabbed my arm and flung me around. Soon I was facing a round man with an elfish glint in his eye.
"Hey! Aren't you the back-up maid o' honor?" Then, other people introduced themselves and flooded me with questions:
"How'd you and Jean meet?"
"Is that your boyfriend?" (pointing to Kurt, who's actually my brother [here's where you ask how I felt])
"What is UP with your hair??"
And that was the whole night. But then, around midnight, I was finally shown this room and somehow woke up in this bed.
So starts my day.
3:42 p.m.
When I was dressed in another of Jean's dress picks, I came out of the guest room and found Kurt standing by my door.
"Good morning, Rogue," he said, leading me into the parlor. "Sleep well?"
"Surprisingly," I mentioned and he snorted.
"They're serving strawberries and cream. And I thought high society ate normal food," he coughed, as Jean suddenly approached us.
"Come, my folks want to meet you in person," she rasped, dragging us to the table with an elder couple seated at either side. The lady stood; smiled.
"Mom, dad, these are my two good friends, Kurt and Rogue," Jean introduced, and then hurried out of the parlor. Kurt gave me a look of regret as we seated ourselves at their table.
"Well, aren't you two just adorable! Jean loves to tell stories about you two," Mrs. Grey said. Kurt raised his eyebrow.
"What -kind- of stories?"
"Well, there was once that time you fell off the roof and landed on Rogue," Mr. Grey put in. I grimaced - I had to get stitches on my elbow because of that, "and the time when Rogue had mistaken baking soda for sugar on your instructor's birthday and it exploded when you served it." Oh, that was a very expensive episode. Kurt and I exchanged uneasy glances while the parents laughed.
"So, how's the groom? We haven't really met him yet," Mrs. Grey said, turning to me, "Aunt Clara said he's a real catch."
"And what a fishing line," Kurt breathed, sarcastically. I pretended I didn't hear.
"He's great. What are we doing today?" I asked, taking a strawberry. Kurt cleared his throat; motioned to my spoon. Embarrassed, I plucked the strawberry from its container with my spoon and dumped it into my plate.
"Well, we're going off to get ready for tonight's party," Mr. Grey said, sipping his coffee.
"Then what was that whole thing last night?" Kurt asked, dumping sugar on his plate. The cover fell off and a pile of sugar mustered in a corner of the platter. Kurt moved uneasily at the sight.
"That was just a little gathering. Today we're inviting all the interns and associates that work with us," Mrs. Grey answered, waving to a maid. "You know, to acquaint everyone with the groom."
Oh boy, I thought, just as a maid appeared, taking the plate away. Almost immediately, Kurt had a fresh platter that seemed to never had touched food in its wake. Until now.
Then, Jean came in, followed by a half-awake Remy, who had pulled on a fancy black blazer and dark pants.
The trench coat was no where in sight.
"And this is my fiancé," Jean said proudly, as if she were a five-year-old during show and tell. "Remington LeBeau."
I rose an eyebrow at his newfound name as Mr. and Mrs. Grey stuck out their hands in recognition.
"It's great to finally meet you, Remington," Mrs. Grey said, happily. Remy must've woken up by then and a small smile was playing on his lips.
"T'anks. But I'd rather y' call me Remy," he said, in a kind voice. Mr. Grey laughed.
"But Remington is so...manly!"
And snotty, I thought dipping my strawberry in sugar. Kurt cleared his throat again, and I reached for my spoon, attempting to smack him. Jean saw this and quickly drew the attention to me.
"Rogue," she said, and I put the spoon down, trying to hide my scowl, "I've been telling my parents how good you are in horse racing." Horse racing?! I gave her a look that read, another white lie? She counteracted with a look that said, just play along, dammit.
When I found her parents looking at me, I grinned awkwardly. "Twelve years," I lied, putting on a straight face, "Horse racing is my...first love." I caught Remy's eye and he returned my discomfort with a smile.
"Is that so!" Mrs. Grey said, taking back my attention, "well, we're going to the Horse Derby tomorrow! Would you like to come?"
"If Jean will," I grinded my teeth. She stared at me, then huffed.
"I can't. I said I'd go shopping for dinnerware with -Remington-," she said through clenched teeth. Remy gave her a wry look.
"Well, we do have a week t' spend here. We might as well pay de horses a visit," he said, all with a smile. Jean looked at him, then at her parents. Slowly she nodded.
"That's perfect! We'll buy tickets and bring you four!" Mr. Grey said. He smacked his hand against Kurt, who covered his mouth with his hand. Mrs. Grey looked at her watch and said she was taking Jean and Remy to the Outfitters Club where they'd get suited and dressed up for the party. Kurt and I would have to come with what we have.
Which is just fine. The party is at six, so now I must get ready.
Oy vey, this Maid of Honor stuff ain't honoring nothing.
March 9, 2003 1:21 a.m.
I am a very bad person.
I mean, I realize that Jean considers me a friend and Remy considers me a good friend, but you know what, I'm not.
It all starts when I come across all these phone numbers that read "Catering" and after reading most of them, I found out that they were for the party last night. Well, thinking of a way to get out of here, I call them up and say, "Hello this is Jean Grey. I'm canceling all orders of food."
Yes, so at six, all these snazzy people show up and Jean and her parents are there and I'm walking around with Kurt, hoping that no one will notice me, and then I suddenly see a maid rush up to Mrs. Grey and who screams, "They WHAT? Why???" At the question, the maid simply shrugged her shoulders, looked at Jean, pouted, and ran back into the kitchen.
So then Mrs. Grey breaks the news to everyone, saying that food will not be delivered, and it's pointless to wait any longer because that's what you come for, the food, so you might as well just leave. They do, and Mrs. Grey gets into fights with Jean and her husband, so Kurt and I just kinda slink away from the commotion.
I have had a guilty conscience ever since. I've never felt this bad since I burned LeBeau's cards.
Leave it up to my guilty sense of right and wrong to occupy my sleep.
8:39 p.m., in the guest room
Groggily, I pulled on my next to nicest outfit that Jean had bought for me, and walked out into the parlor where Remy was seated drinking coffee.
He was the only one there.
"You're late," he said, sipping his cup casually, "They already left."
"And you?" I asked, seating myself across from him while reaching for a strawberry.
"Dey told me t' wait f' y'. Said t' bring y' later. Jean wants t' buy de bettin' vouchers early. Somethin' about fastest horse."
He poured me a cup and I drank it heavily. Then I asked, "Can you keep a secret?"
"Thet depends," he said, biting into a crumpet, "is it somethin' so lethal and vile thet I should, in fact, keep it from de world?"
"Yes," I muttered. Remy stopped chewing.
"Oh, c'mon Rogue, what's so bad--"
"I cancelled those catering trucks." He looked at me through his blue contact lenses and smiled.
"Thet's not as bad as burning my cards." I huffed, taking a crumpet.
"I was just comparing those two situations last night."
"And--?"
"Burning your cards was evil."
He smirked, and drank down the rest of his coffee. "Glad y' care." He reached for a strawberry and I placed my hand on top of his.
"You... won't tell, will you?" he looked at me, shuddering at the silence.
"I'm as loyal as a cat is to a human."
"That's a dog, Rems."
"Even betta."
***
After getting dropped off by a chauffeur, Remy spotted Jean under an Easter hat behind the bleachers. She was frowning at Kurt when we got to her.
"Spilling a coke down your front -- do you THINK that's proper?" she scolded, pointing at his blouse. It was stained light brown and Kurt had his ears drooped like a guilty puppy that had wet the floor.
"Take it easy, Jeanie," Remy said, sliding her arm around his. "Kurt's only being himself."
"But--"
"You can't change everyone," I sneered. She looked at me, an evil glint in her eye. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, her parents called us over to the bleachers.
"We can see everything here," Mrs. Grey said, as a-matter-of-factly, and we sat, facing the race. After the first horse race had finished, Mrs. Grey turned to Remy and smiled sweetly.
"So, Jean tells us you're planning to be a sports writer," she said. Remy looked at her, turned a twisted glance at his fiancé and then nodded sheepishly.
"Travelin' de world is my thing."
"But you're not thinking of taking Jean with you, right?" Mr. Grey said. Mrs. Grey nodded.
"Well, no, if she doesn't want..."
"But then if you leave her alone, it wouldn't be good either," Mrs. Grey butt in. Remy only gaped and Jean hid her face behind her hair. So I spoke up.
"He's only thinking about it," I said. Remy looked at me, curiosity gleaming on his face. Then Kurt piped, "Yes. What he really wants to be is a doctor!"
That got the in-laws going again.
"Is that so, Remington? Well, what kind of practice will you take?"
"Um...medical," Remy said, unsure. Mr. Grey laughed.
"Well most doctors are medical. Would you be a pediatrician or a neurologist?"
Remy's jaw collapsed. "Uh, yes." Then Jean stood up, pointing at the horses.
"I think that's our horse," she commented, as the lead horse raced toward the finish line. Mr. and Mrs. Grey squealed with delight.
"What did I tell you! Wilder's our horse!" Mr. Grey cried happily. So we walked down the stairs to collect their earnings. Remy was giving Kurt bitter looks and his ears once again drooped.
"I always seem to make things worse," he sighed. I nudged him away, smiling.
"You're not the only one."
They kept betting and we stayed at the Derby until seven. Remy is taking Kurt to get a suit tomorrow, so I'll be spending quality time with Jean and her folks.
Please, someone shoot me now.
March 10, 2003 4:33 p.m., at Hartford Hospital
They took me to the Vermont Stables and made me ride their best steed, Wilder.
Apparently, they thought I could ride. I, of course, can't. So when Wilder took off running after being swatted with the reigns, I tumbled off the horse and broke my left arm.
I think I deserved it.
The doctor enclosed it in a cast and told me three weeks. Jean's in a frenzy now, wondering if I could still be the Maid of Honor.
No, I wanted to cry out. This was lucky break. I can get out of this. Alive.
But no, I'm still in since Mr. Grey brought up that it was only three weeks.
Three weeks is a VERY long time. And having your arm in a cast isn't the least attractive either. Especially in a gown carrying a bouquet of roses.
March 11, 2003
I'm staying in bed today. Because I've got the broken arm and hurt pride.
Or so Mr. Grey says.
March 12, 2003, 3:12 p.m., in the Greys' Caravan
Jean came into my room at about seven and ripped open the curtains, yellow sunlight pouring into the room.
"Up, Rogue," she commented, snatching the covers off of me. I looked at her, dazed.
"Why?"
"Why?!" she asked, as if my question was incredulous. "Because you've been in bed all yesterday. THAT'S why!"
"But I have a broken arm," I whined, showing her my cast. "And let's not forget it's all_your_fault."
"I'm making it up today," she reasoned, taking the polka dot navy blue tube top dress from the closet. I stared at it miffed.
"Where are we going?" I asked, knowing the dress was set for a special occasion. Jean smiled.
"My parents are holding a breakfast brunch up in Churchill Lounge. Just for the six of us. So get dressed. Remy's already waiting at the restaurant."
So I obeyed and we rode the Caravan up to the Lounge. I don't think many have seen how the Lounge really looks like, but I know that when I entered, it was like rushing into a crowded ballroom. I mean, it's the kind of restaurant where they'd set several pieces of silverware and four cups just for one course. And then they'd take all that away and bring you even more dinnerware.
I was pretty exhausted because after all, I DID have a broken arm. But Kurt helped me with the silverware and I drank his share of wine. It was even from then on.
"Oh, Rogue," Jean said, over her lobster since it was a brunch, "I forgot to mention this. Since today is our last full day here, Remy and I will be heading over to Glass Tavern after brunch. You and Kurt want to join?"
"What exactly iz Glass Tavern?" asked Kurt, who promptly told me about yesterday's activities. Remy, he, and Mr. Grey had went golfing. For once, I was happy I could get dismissed from such a routine. Jean smiled, reaching for Remy's hand.
"They sell dinnerware - you know, plates and stuff," I commented. Jean frowned at my explanation. Then I said in a snotty voice, "Something else I forgot to mention?"
"No," she shrugged, asking a waiter to take away her untouched lobster, "nothing at all."
"And tomorrow?" Mr. Grey asked her. She looked at him, and sighing, turned back to me.
"Dad and mom want to take you back to Vermont Stables. The trainer said you and Wilder -was it?- made a connection."
"Connection?" That was such a perfect lie. If I didn't know better, I'd say the trainer was only wanting another visit to pickpocket the Greys' money.
Oh, we're outside Glass Tavern. Better go before Jean screams at me.
8:17 p.m., guest room
Kurt took my arm as we were led into the compact room. Plates and dishes lined the walls and glasses filled the interior. I immediately shuddered at what it would look like if Tabitha had gone on one of her hyper mood swings and decided to bomb the place with her explosives.
The store clerk asked who were the couples, and Jean called that she and Remy were together. And then I piped, "We are too," motioning to Kurt and then me. A surprised Jean and snickering Remy led the clan as we brushed past the silverware and into the room where they kept thousands of glasses. Almost immediately, Jean started roaming, glancing around and biting her lip at the prices. The store clerk then approached Kurt and me and asked when was the wedding date.
"June 8," Kurt said, obviously thrilled at the game, "We were planning on getting married at midnight."
"On a beach," I said, holding back a giggle.
"Oh and don't forget ze black magic witch doctor will marry us," Kurt cried, and I couldn't contain myself. The store clerk was really buying it though.
"A black magic witch doctor?" she asked, clutching her clipboard, "For what?"
"Something about evil spirits lurking at the dead of night," I explained. "And after the ceremony, we're getting free voodoo dolls so when we're mad at each other, we can poke holes into our mini-mes."
"I really didn't wanna get married, you know?" Kurt said, shrugging. I smirked as the clerk rose an eyebrow. "But I want ze voodoo doll, man! I heard it's good for ze trees!"
I guess we freaked her out, because she moved to Jean and never returned to us again.
Remy was also listening, because when we loaded the Caravan, he mentioned, "Jean, I t'ink we should have a black magic witch doctor do our ceremony."
And she gave him hell the rest of the way.
March 13, 2003, 7:12 p.m. at the terminal to Bayville
We arrived at Vermont Stables at about noon so we could catch our plane at seven. Remy wore his jeans and blue contact lenses while Jean dressed herself in a chiffon dress and Easter hat. I managed to pull on a green dress and my black boots, hopefully making Jean not want me ride since she considered my boots the next best thing to ugly.
But she did anyway.
"Rogue," she said, as Wilder came out. Wilder is a brown horse with a brilliant black mane, and the strongest legs that a horse can have. Well, with the knowledge that I have of the animal, I think that to be pretty strong.
"Domingo will help you on the horse." Domingo was the stable buck.
"And you?" I asked, wondering if this was a chance to break my other arm. She shook her head.
"Kurt seems to have slipped from our company. I'm going to see where he's gone off to. My parents are by the stable if you need anything." Then, she was gone. Huffing, I pushed the bucker away and pulled myself up with my good arm, intending to make it just fine over Wilder's back. But just as my body sat on the animal, I couldn't get my leg over the other side.
Talk about disgruntling.
So, instead of Domingo, Remy came over and helped me to sit up properly on the horse. He seated himself behind me, holding on to the reigns. Looking over, I asked why he wasn't coming down. His reply was a single smirk.
"Domingo, I t'ink I'll stay here. Don bother taking Bittersweet out," he ordered, and with a single pull of the reigns, Wilder started walking out of the stable. Then, swat! and Wilder shot out like a bullet from a gun. I think I would've fell off again of Remy wasn't behind me; he rode the horse like some professional I never knew. Then when we were clear of the stable, Wilder slowed down and came to a steady walk. Remy, all the while, was silent in his thinking.
So I spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "Something I need to know?" He looked at me, and I heard him growl under his breath.
"Can't a guy take some time off from being someone he ain't?"
I saw his point and he smiled because of it. The sun was hiding behind the clouds by now and the air was crisp with tangerine flowers blooming in the frontier. I never thought Connecticut to be this western.
"Is this about Jean?" His grip over the reigns tightened. Wilder's walk came to an awkward halt.
"I actually was hopin' we wouldn talk about 'er," he murmured, getting down from the steed and taking me with him. The dust was blowing around our feet and we watched as the sun tried to peak behind the clouds. "So you and Kurt having any post-weddin' plans?"
I smirked at the playful question. "Yeah- we were thinking of killing about ten cows and sacrificing them to some god." Remy laughed hearty-some as his gloved hands came around my casted arm.
"Always t'ought you'd think o' something t' get out o' the weddin'." Goosebumps burst from underneath the cast; I shivered. "Does it hurt?"
"Naw," I said, blowing it off like I broke my arm all the time. I saw his smile and shoulders relaxed.
"Rogue," he said, so seriously I felt my heart catch in my throat. "It ain't like I should say anyt'in' but Jean...she's...well, she's been...um...changin' me. It ain't like I don love her, but den again, I don like how she's playing some kind o' game I don even know de rules t'." He sighed, and I suddenly took hold of his hand against my gloved fingers. Fake blue eyes met mine and I knew what he was talking about.
"She wants everything perfect," I said, trying not to sound biased as to what I usually thought about the girl. "She's...like that." Remy bit his lip and I gripped his hand tighter. His head came back to face me. "But then again, I'm just saying that sometimes, it's better to rethink than to regret," I said, finding my words harsh. Remy nodded, taking his hand from mine and placing me back on Wilder.
"Sure, Rogue. Sure," he mumbled, and then made Wilder race back to the stables. It wasn't until he jumped off the horse and met Jean in fitful hug, that I knew I had said the wrong thing. When we said our good-byes and hugged and kissed the Greys, walking up the terminal steps, I felt Kurt take hold of my skirt and pull me back to meet him.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned. I gave him an awkward look of disappointment and said, "He loves her." Kurt looked at me with fiery eyes of golden mistrust and gave me his bought bag of potato chips.
That simply meant he understood.
March 14, 2003 2:12 a.m.
John called. Our conversation went as follows:
"Rogue?"
"John. Good morning to you too."
"How was your trip back?"
"Good."
"Anything...happen?"
"No?"
"Anything with Remy?"
"Nothing."
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No really."
"Are you okay?"
"No. Why the questions?"
"You're not always this way."
"Well, the trip was okay. But Remy--" Pause.
An impatient, "Well?"
"Well, he's..[sigh]..certainly blind."
"Blind?"
"To not see who really loves him."
Silence. "Oh."
"Oh? What were you expecting?"
"Nothing. But--"
"But what?"
"But haven't you ever tried to even consider...consider..."
"Consider?! Speak, John!"
"Haven't you ever tried to even consider that maybe Remy's not the only one blind?"
Then he hung up. What does he mean by that?! I must ask Kitty later.
Or maybe it's because I really am dense.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
*Good on ya: Australian Slang for Good Job
Thirty-one days until the wedding...
By: Ariesque
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ratings: PG- PG-13 Depending if there be language
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men characters and Bayville places Evo focuses on in its show. Everything else belongs to me.
Author's Notes: Long delay back there, but since I only got one complaint so far, I posted this nice, long chapter hot off my fingertips! Um, so yeah. Why the hiatus? Because I was stricken with some sort of disappointment that came from one review - but then I figured I'm only kidding myself since it is only one person. So HMPH. One less person I need to please! Okay, I'm done explaining. Now one to the next chapter!!
Chapter Seventeen: Remy meets the Parents
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 2, 2003 1:37 p.m. In my shared room
This is pointless.
I forgot how much time a Maid of Honor is supposed to ACTUALLY spend since she IS the Maid of Honor and has to make things all the better for the bride.
Too bad I'm the Maid of Honor.
Today, Jean got a phone call. It was answered by Kurt who was at the moment annoyed with Kitty for leaving out the milk and letting it spoil, ruining his cereal of the day. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading the latest of the Bayville Times, which I had stolen from the kitchen before Logan even had a chance to get to it. Serves him right, the hairy man.
So anyway, the phone rings and Kurt grabs it, huffing a violent, "Yeah?" into the receiver. A few seconds later, his features change and attitude goes neutral. I gave him a questioning face and he talked louder so that I could hear him.
"Oh yes, Mrs. Grey how are you?" I shot up like a bullet, wondering where in blazes was that Redhead. Kurt gave me a "go get her" face as he continued to chat with the elder. So I ran up stairs, going from room to room, looking for Jean, but she wasn't there. Goodness, where could she be on a Sunday? So I race downstairs, showing my defeat. Kurt turned back to the phone, looking worried.
"Wha--? No, she's out at ze moment. Oh," he looked over his shoulder, eyes of gold giving me an ungrateful look. "Yes, she's here. Well, sure." Then he handed me the phone. I gave him a look of horror before hissing, "What are you doing?"
"She wants to talk to you," he shrugged, taking my gloved hand and placing the phone there. I frowned; rose it to my ear.
"Mrs. Grey?" There was a short pause before an old, warm voice answered from the other line.
"Miss Rogue?" Jean must've told her about me.
"Yes?"
"Well, hello dear. How's everything at the manor?"
"Great, thanks for, um, asking."
"Oh, well, can you tell Jean to call me back?"
"Sure."
"Well, then, thanks dearie." There was no click. I wondered why she was still on the line. "Jean mentioned you as her maid of honor, am I correct?"
"Certainly," I said, trying to hide the displeasure in my voice.
"Well, we're throwing a party next weekend and I was wondering if you and the Best Man could join."
"Um, I--"
"I hope there's nothing going on for you then." That meant she wanted us there.
"No, I'll tell Jean. Thanks for calling." Then I hung up.
Turns out Jean was at the church, yelling at some guy who was delivering the trestles that was supposed to be in the pictures when taken at the wedding. Sometimes I wonder if this girl can ever rest.
March 3, 2003 4:15 p.m.
So I come in after school to find Remy laying on the couch, looking sullen and extremely temperamental.
"She kick you out of Scott's room too?" I asked, putting down my backpack. He sighed, turning on his side to face me.
"She wants moi t' meet her parents." I went into the kitchen; he followed. Taking out the bread, I popped two slices in the toaster and turned a wry look at the guy.
"What do you think she's been doing, Remy? It's not like she doesn't just make you stop drinking for her. It's for her parents." I slammed the refrigerator door with lettuce, mayo, tomato, and slices of meat gathered in my arms. Remy came over and started watching the toaster.
"Yeah, but I didn t'ink she was actually serious." He grabbed the lettuce and began washing it. It was my turn to watch.
"Jean's always serious, Rems. It's like her personality. Kinda like..."
"Scott?" He turned off the faucet and pulled at the paper towels. Wiping the leaves, I nodded.
"So when she gonna take you over there?"
"This weekend. Said dere's dis big party and I'm supposed t' go." The bread popped, and I threw the pieces unto the counter. Putting the meat in place, I slathered on mayo and threw in the fresh lettuce. Remy cut the tomato and placed it into the sandwich.
"Yeah, her mom called and told me about that." I took the knife and sliced the sandwich down the middle. Remy took one half and I took the other. "Said she invited me and Kurt too."
"Oh really?" He bit into his piece and chewed thoughtfully. "Then you's coming with us?"
"Possibly," Shrugging, I and bit into my own sandwich. Then he smiled at me with that grin of his and started to walk out.
"Den, I guess it won be so bad after all," he said slyly and slipped out.
For a guy with many personalities, I'm not the least surprised at his comment.
March 4, 2003
Logan did it again.
He left me to grind my teeth and wait next to THAT girl for a freakin' ride.
Please, God. Take me now.
I bet this is about the newspaper. For the love of GOD, it's a NEWSPAPER! If I get my hands on him, there will be serious issues dodging back and forth because of it.
I called the manor. Xavier said he'd send for someone to pick me up.
Augh. I can't take this abuse any longer.
5:22 p.m.
John picked me up.
Does Xavier consider me arrantly dependant on John? I'm hurt.
So anyway, I'm waiting at the Bus Stop, which has a bench and is far away from the girl that makes me sick, when suddenly, a black car stops in front of me. The driver lowers the window and the first thing I see is John, flashing me one of his famous smiles.
"Rogue," he said, "you called?"
I peered in, obviously confused. "Xavier called you? Why you?"
"Fair Dinkum! I thought you'd guess," he said with a pout. "About this time everyone's out doing something or another. And of course Xavier can't pick anyone up, so he rings me in. Says he'd pay me. I said, who am I picking up, and he said Rogue. And I said, forget paying. I'll pick her up free of charge."
"Well, aren't you sweet," a hint of sarcasm in my voice as I climbed into the passenger seat. The door closed and we took off.
"So," John said, after a block or so, "is there anything going on for you at the manor on Saturday?"
"Yes," I answered, avoiding to pause, "Jean's parents invited me and Kurt to their place for the weekend. Said they're throwing a party for Jean and Remy."
Almost immediately, John's face fell. "Are you going?"
I stared at him sideways. "Do I have a choice?" He stifled a laughed, but I knew it was something he did forcefully.
"No, I guess not, Sheila." We stopped at the gate of the mansion, and I got out, pulling my backpack through of shoulder. Closing the door, I noticed John was gripping the wheel a bit tighter and he turned his head to meet my eyes.
"So I'll see you?" I smiled and nodded.
"Sure. Soon, if Jean doesn't pull me out for dress fitting." Three times, I counted in my head and cringed. John smirked and pulled out. I watched as he zoomed off, slamming the brake a bit hard.
March 5, 2003
I told Kitty about John and my little chat and she laughed out loud. I asked her what could be so funny and she went, "HAHAHA! Rogue you are, like, SO dense!"
I demanded she explained her rude by simply stating that John wanted to know what I was doing on Saturday, planning to do something with -me-.
"And then you, like, said you were going to -Jean's- house with, like, Jean and -Remy- and then he's thinking, dern. There goes my, like, night." I watched as she turned back to her new assigned book, Lord of the Flies. "Face it Rogue. You_are_dense."
That doesn't make any sense. How could she know and not me?!
God, I am dense.
March 6, 2003
Okay. There are currently six new dresses strewn upon my bed. Jean, peering into my room, demanded to see what I was taking to her parents' house and almost fell over in shock. I frowned, seeing no need of such reaction.
"What? It's what I wear everyday, Jean," I spat, as she looked at my Gothic garb with a deluded frown.
"Well, everyday cannot mean the week you go to my parents' house." I stopped, taken aback.
"I'm sorry. Did you say a -week-?" Jean looked at me, annoyed.
"My mom didn't mention this to you?"
"Well, she said weekend, and the last time I thought about it, a weekend doesn't mean a week." Jean started clenching her perfect teeth with impatience.
"I'm calling gonna call her," she said, going over and sitting down on my bed. After a quick dial, Jean started screaming into the phone.
"Mom! What is this I hear about a weekend for the Best Man and Maid of Honor?" She looked at me quickly, and then went on screaming, "No! I can't believe this! You were only suppose to meet -Remy-! Remy is all I wanted to bring. What is this..." Pause. Her teeth grinded.
"No! I can't believe this is what you WANT for me! What? Best for me? Are you kidding?!" Another quick look and more grinding of the teeth. "Are you -afraid- of Remy? Is that why you're making my friends come over too?" I wanted to burst out laughing, seeing this as an opportunity to make her gloat the rest of her life. "I can't return the plane tickets! Some sort of policy." Then I realized she wouldn't be able to get me out of this predicament. Oo, my guts grinded within me.
"Bring them along??? Are you insane! I'm accomplishing a wedding, not a party! No, mom, -that- party is at your own consent." Pause. She hanged up the phone.
"My -mother- wants you to come along with Kurt. Why? Why??" She then raced out of my room, flying down the stairs.
"Where are you going?" I asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She turned at the end of the stairs without looking back.
"Out."
Out, and bought me six dresses. They're nothing close to black, not even purple. She doesn't trust me or my clothing.
Oh, how Jean-esque.
March 7, 2003, 3:12 p.m., on the plane to Connecticut
We rode to the airport in Xavier's limo, driven by Logan. He was giving me hard glances through the back view mirror, so I was kinda glad when we finally got to our destination. Waiting to punch in our tickets, I saw Remy's face darken as he looked off to the side. Looking as well, I was surprised to find John waiting by the food court, carrying a small bear with him. Jean was at the front desk, screaming once more at the person behind the computer.
"Grey!" I could hear her all the way to the back of the line. "Our seats read B234..."
"Well, so our paths cross again," John greeted, coming over and patting Remy on his shoulder. "Off to the parents, or so I've heard." He gave me a sly wink and I looked away so I wouldn't meet Remy's eyes.
"Didn' know you's be here," Remy huffed, pretending to shuffle his cards. He wore the trench coat Jean unsuccessfully tried to pry from his grasp. John smirked, undeniably miffed.
"Oh." Then turning back to me, he handed me the bear. "Was digressing whether to get you tucker (food) or Lollies (candy). Decided on neither and bought you dis." It was a small, brown bear with a maroon ribbon. I smiled, avoiding Remy's eyes.
"I'm glad." Then I tugged him away from Remy and Jean, who was now holding up the line since the flight attendant couldn't find our seats. Out of earshot, I asked what I've been wondering this whole time.
"Were you thinking of taking me out on Saturday?" He looked a bit embarrassed, but nodded for an answer.
"Good on ya* to think it up." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a receipt. Handing it to me, he explained he had bought tickets to a Weezer concert but returned them after hearing my decline. I bit my lip, sorry.
"It's nothing, Rogue," he shrugged, but he was lying. I saw it in his eyes. "Have fun. I'll expect to see you on Monday." I frowned; he noticed. "Oh no."
"Oh no is correct," I said, annoyed. "A week, it turns out."
"A week?!"
"Bad communication. It works every time." It was John's time to frown.
"And Remy?"
"What do you mean, 'and Remy'?"
"He staying for a week too?"
"He doesn't really have a choice, John." Silence. I could hear John's anger through his rasping breath.
"Well," he said, giving my shoulder a single pat, "have fun." Then, he walked away.
Remy gave me my suitcase and told me Jean finally got hold of our seats.
"W' her screaming, of course," he smiled, walking with me to the Gate. "So," he said, looking at the bear, "John have anyt'in' interesting t' say?"
"He was surprised that we're staying for a week." Remy looked at me, round-eyed.
"What?! A -week-?" Apparently Jean hadn't told Remy.
So, right now they're fighting with each other and I'm here, playing Evanescence really loud in my earphones. Kurt is next to me, silently trying to read while having his ears plugged.
8:12 p.m., Taxi Cab No. 203, en route to the Grey's house
While walking out of the gate, Jean found out that her parents wouldn't be able to meet us at the airport. We stood by the gift stores while Jean screamed on the phone: "You can't come?! Then what are we suppose to drive home in? What tone? This is what I always use with you!"
Remy huffed, dragging luggage. "She still at her screaming?" he asked, giving me my suitcase.
"Apparently. So you're staying for the week?"
"Do I have a choice?" I smirked; shook my head. Kurt came over, offering newly bought potato chips.
"For my stomach," he grinned, as Jean came over, fuming.
"They're sending a stupid taxi," she cried, bringing a hand to brush away sweat. Catching sight of Kurt's snack, her eyes narrowed. It was like watching a lion before it makes its famous pounce on its prey. "What the heck are those?!"
"Potato chips," Kurt said, daring to show her the contents. "Want any?"
Jean quickly grabbed the bag, pointing at the Nutrition Facts. "23% saturated fat! Have you no CONTROL???"
I snatched the bag from her grasp and handed it back to Kurt. "HE doesn't need control. HE doesn't have to fit into a size one wedding dress. HE..."
"...has it made," Remy finished, standing off to the side and pouting. Jean turned to him, her eyes angered slits.
"Are you -defying- me? Do you -want- to get into another fight?" She pointed her finger and I could see perfectly painted French nails in the light.
"I frankly don care, Jeanie," he said. I could almost see the fire in Jean's eyes ignite.
"Okay, go ahead! Don't care whether or not my parents neglect to even COME to the airport..."
"That's enough Jean," I said, pulling her away from Remy, who had an bold, impish smirk on his face, "how about we go around the place, 'kay? I've never been to Connecticut."
"But it's an airport," Jean protested.
"It's all the same," I reasoned, and dragged her away from the guys. I bought ice cream in a cup, hoping to tempt her to eat. We sat down on a nearby table which over looked the lower terminals.
"I don't understand," Jean said, twisting her hair around her fingers, "They're my -parents-. They should at least care whether or not I come... with my -fiancé- in fact!"
"Careful there," I said, in between bites. Then I pushed the ice cream towards her. "Take a bite."
She looked at it skeptically. "I can't eat that - you know such, Rogue."
"It's ice cream," I said, stating my point. "And it's strawberry. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say this was your favorite."
Another skeptical look. "I don't know how much calories..."
"Eat it. I swear, it'll make your problems vanish." Jean winced; reached for the spoon. Swirling the ice cream, she eyed it carefully.
"Vanish?" She seemed hopeful. I smiled.
"Into thin air." That got her. She ate the ice cream, thinking.
"I thought I'd never eat this again," she said, her voice drenched in pleasure. I smiled.
"That's what they all say."
"Do you think my parents really want me to get married?" she asked. I sat back; uncomfortable. "I mean, they don't show up --"
"If they don't..." she looked at me, sadly, "then make them." Just then, her phone rung, and as she answered it, a sweet smile spread across her face.
"Okay, we'll be there," she said, closing the phone. "The taxi's here. We better go."
So we met Remy and Kurt downstairs and hopped into the taxi. There's no fighting and Kurt bought Jean a cookie which she's been eating while discussing wedding arrangements with Remy.
March 8, 2003 6:12 a.m.
We arrived last night, and were met with...
"A bridal shower!" Jean commented, rushing into her house. Kurt and I exchanged glances as Remy was dragged behind his fiancé to meet the in-laws. Of course, the Greys had their maids haul away our luggage into the guest rooms, making us mingle with the crowd. I had worn the off-white suit Jean made me wear a few hours ago, and felt a bit awkward while moving towards the appetizer table. Kurt was bombarded by relatives before he could even get near the food, so I took a plate to him.
And was met with the same aggression.
"Well, hello, sweet-cheeks," greeted a relative, an arm around Kurt as he gobbled up the sushi, "I'm Clara, Jean's aunt. I see she's got some taste..." She eyed Remy with idol eyes. I rolled my own.
"Yeah... well..." Then another grabbed my arm and flung me around. Soon I was facing a round man with an elfish glint in his eye.
"Hey! Aren't you the back-up maid o' honor?" Then, other people introduced themselves and flooded me with questions:
"How'd you and Jean meet?"
"Is that your boyfriend?" (pointing to Kurt, who's actually my brother [here's where you ask how I felt])
"What is UP with your hair??"
And that was the whole night. But then, around midnight, I was finally shown this room and somehow woke up in this bed.
So starts my day.
3:42 p.m.
When I was dressed in another of Jean's dress picks, I came out of the guest room and found Kurt standing by my door.
"Good morning, Rogue," he said, leading me into the parlor. "Sleep well?"
"Surprisingly," I mentioned and he snorted.
"They're serving strawberries and cream. And I thought high society ate normal food," he coughed, as Jean suddenly approached us.
"Come, my folks want to meet you in person," she rasped, dragging us to the table with an elder couple seated at either side. The lady stood; smiled.
"Mom, dad, these are my two good friends, Kurt and Rogue," Jean introduced, and then hurried out of the parlor. Kurt gave me a look of regret as we seated ourselves at their table.
"Well, aren't you two just adorable! Jean loves to tell stories about you two," Mrs. Grey said. Kurt raised his eyebrow.
"What -kind- of stories?"
"Well, there was once that time you fell off the roof and landed on Rogue," Mr. Grey put in. I grimaced - I had to get stitches on my elbow because of that, "and the time when Rogue had mistaken baking soda for sugar on your instructor's birthday and it exploded when you served it." Oh, that was a very expensive episode. Kurt and I exchanged uneasy glances while the parents laughed.
"So, how's the groom? We haven't really met him yet," Mrs. Grey said, turning to me, "Aunt Clara said he's a real catch."
"And what a fishing line," Kurt breathed, sarcastically. I pretended I didn't hear.
"He's great. What are we doing today?" I asked, taking a strawberry. Kurt cleared his throat; motioned to my spoon. Embarrassed, I plucked the strawberry from its container with my spoon and dumped it into my plate.
"Well, we're going off to get ready for tonight's party," Mr. Grey said, sipping his coffee.
"Then what was that whole thing last night?" Kurt asked, dumping sugar on his plate. The cover fell off and a pile of sugar mustered in a corner of the platter. Kurt moved uneasily at the sight.
"That was just a little gathering. Today we're inviting all the interns and associates that work with us," Mrs. Grey answered, waving to a maid. "You know, to acquaint everyone with the groom."
Oh boy, I thought, just as a maid appeared, taking the plate away. Almost immediately, Kurt had a fresh platter that seemed to never had touched food in its wake. Until now.
Then, Jean came in, followed by a half-awake Remy, who had pulled on a fancy black blazer and dark pants.
The trench coat was no where in sight.
"And this is my fiancé," Jean said proudly, as if she were a five-year-old during show and tell. "Remington LeBeau."
I rose an eyebrow at his newfound name as Mr. and Mrs. Grey stuck out their hands in recognition.
"It's great to finally meet you, Remington," Mrs. Grey said, happily. Remy must've woken up by then and a small smile was playing on his lips.
"T'anks. But I'd rather y' call me Remy," he said, in a kind voice. Mr. Grey laughed.
"But Remington is so...manly!"
And snotty, I thought dipping my strawberry in sugar. Kurt cleared his throat again, and I reached for my spoon, attempting to smack him. Jean saw this and quickly drew the attention to me.
"Rogue," she said, and I put the spoon down, trying to hide my scowl, "I've been telling my parents how good you are in horse racing." Horse racing?! I gave her a look that read, another white lie? She counteracted with a look that said, just play along, dammit.
When I found her parents looking at me, I grinned awkwardly. "Twelve years," I lied, putting on a straight face, "Horse racing is my...first love." I caught Remy's eye and he returned my discomfort with a smile.
"Is that so!" Mrs. Grey said, taking back my attention, "well, we're going to the Horse Derby tomorrow! Would you like to come?"
"If Jean will," I grinded my teeth. She stared at me, then huffed.
"I can't. I said I'd go shopping for dinnerware with -Remington-," she said through clenched teeth. Remy gave her a wry look.
"Well, we do have a week t' spend here. We might as well pay de horses a visit," he said, all with a smile. Jean looked at him, then at her parents. Slowly she nodded.
"That's perfect! We'll buy tickets and bring you four!" Mr. Grey said. He smacked his hand against Kurt, who covered his mouth with his hand. Mrs. Grey looked at her watch and said she was taking Jean and Remy to the Outfitters Club where they'd get suited and dressed up for the party. Kurt and I would have to come with what we have.
Which is just fine. The party is at six, so now I must get ready.
Oy vey, this Maid of Honor stuff ain't honoring nothing.
March 9, 2003 1:21 a.m.
I am a very bad person.
I mean, I realize that Jean considers me a friend and Remy considers me a good friend, but you know what, I'm not.
It all starts when I come across all these phone numbers that read "Catering" and after reading most of them, I found out that they were for the party last night. Well, thinking of a way to get out of here, I call them up and say, "Hello this is Jean Grey. I'm canceling all orders of food."
Yes, so at six, all these snazzy people show up and Jean and her parents are there and I'm walking around with Kurt, hoping that no one will notice me, and then I suddenly see a maid rush up to Mrs. Grey and who screams, "They WHAT? Why???" At the question, the maid simply shrugged her shoulders, looked at Jean, pouted, and ran back into the kitchen.
So then Mrs. Grey breaks the news to everyone, saying that food will not be delivered, and it's pointless to wait any longer because that's what you come for, the food, so you might as well just leave. They do, and Mrs. Grey gets into fights with Jean and her husband, so Kurt and I just kinda slink away from the commotion.
I have had a guilty conscience ever since. I've never felt this bad since I burned LeBeau's cards.
Leave it up to my guilty sense of right and wrong to occupy my sleep.
8:39 p.m., in the guest room
Groggily, I pulled on my next to nicest outfit that Jean had bought for me, and walked out into the parlor where Remy was seated drinking coffee.
He was the only one there.
"You're late," he said, sipping his cup casually, "They already left."
"And you?" I asked, seating myself across from him while reaching for a strawberry.
"Dey told me t' wait f' y'. Said t' bring y' later. Jean wants t' buy de bettin' vouchers early. Somethin' about fastest horse."
He poured me a cup and I drank it heavily. Then I asked, "Can you keep a secret?"
"Thet depends," he said, biting into a crumpet, "is it somethin' so lethal and vile thet I should, in fact, keep it from de world?"
"Yes," I muttered. Remy stopped chewing.
"Oh, c'mon Rogue, what's so bad--"
"I cancelled those catering trucks." He looked at me through his blue contact lenses and smiled.
"Thet's not as bad as burning my cards." I huffed, taking a crumpet.
"I was just comparing those two situations last night."
"And--?"
"Burning your cards was evil."
He smirked, and drank down the rest of his coffee. "Glad y' care." He reached for a strawberry and I placed my hand on top of his.
"You... won't tell, will you?" he looked at me, shuddering at the silence.
"I'm as loyal as a cat is to a human."
"That's a dog, Rems."
"Even betta."
***
After getting dropped off by a chauffeur, Remy spotted Jean under an Easter hat behind the bleachers. She was frowning at Kurt when we got to her.
"Spilling a coke down your front -- do you THINK that's proper?" she scolded, pointing at his blouse. It was stained light brown and Kurt had his ears drooped like a guilty puppy that had wet the floor.
"Take it easy, Jeanie," Remy said, sliding her arm around his. "Kurt's only being himself."
"But--"
"You can't change everyone," I sneered. She looked at me, an evil glint in her eye. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, her parents called us over to the bleachers.
"We can see everything here," Mrs. Grey said, as a-matter-of-factly, and we sat, facing the race. After the first horse race had finished, Mrs. Grey turned to Remy and smiled sweetly.
"So, Jean tells us you're planning to be a sports writer," she said. Remy looked at her, turned a twisted glance at his fiancé and then nodded sheepishly.
"Travelin' de world is my thing."
"But you're not thinking of taking Jean with you, right?" Mr. Grey said. Mrs. Grey nodded.
"Well, no, if she doesn't want..."
"But then if you leave her alone, it wouldn't be good either," Mrs. Grey butt in. Remy only gaped and Jean hid her face behind her hair. So I spoke up.
"He's only thinking about it," I said. Remy looked at me, curiosity gleaming on his face. Then Kurt piped, "Yes. What he really wants to be is a doctor!"
That got the in-laws going again.
"Is that so, Remington? Well, what kind of practice will you take?"
"Um...medical," Remy said, unsure. Mr. Grey laughed.
"Well most doctors are medical. Would you be a pediatrician or a neurologist?"
Remy's jaw collapsed. "Uh, yes." Then Jean stood up, pointing at the horses.
"I think that's our horse," she commented, as the lead horse raced toward the finish line. Mr. and Mrs. Grey squealed with delight.
"What did I tell you! Wilder's our horse!" Mr. Grey cried happily. So we walked down the stairs to collect their earnings. Remy was giving Kurt bitter looks and his ears once again drooped.
"I always seem to make things worse," he sighed. I nudged him away, smiling.
"You're not the only one."
They kept betting and we stayed at the Derby until seven. Remy is taking Kurt to get a suit tomorrow, so I'll be spending quality time with Jean and her folks.
Please, someone shoot me now.
March 10, 2003 4:33 p.m., at Hartford Hospital
They took me to the Vermont Stables and made me ride their best steed, Wilder.
Apparently, they thought I could ride. I, of course, can't. So when Wilder took off running after being swatted with the reigns, I tumbled off the horse and broke my left arm.
I think I deserved it.
The doctor enclosed it in a cast and told me three weeks. Jean's in a frenzy now, wondering if I could still be the Maid of Honor.
No, I wanted to cry out. This was lucky break. I can get out of this. Alive.
But no, I'm still in since Mr. Grey brought up that it was only three weeks.
Three weeks is a VERY long time. And having your arm in a cast isn't the least attractive either. Especially in a gown carrying a bouquet of roses.
March 11, 2003
I'm staying in bed today. Because I've got the broken arm and hurt pride.
Or so Mr. Grey says.
March 12, 2003, 3:12 p.m., in the Greys' Caravan
Jean came into my room at about seven and ripped open the curtains, yellow sunlight pouring into the room.
"Up, Rogue," she commented, snatching the covers off of me. I looked at her, dazed.
"Why?"
"Why?!" she asked, as if my question was incredulous. "Because you've been in bed all yesterday. THAT'S why!"
"But I have a broken arm," I whined, showing her my cast. "And let's not forget it's all_your_fault."
"I'm making it up today," she reasoned, taking the polka dot navy blue tube top dress from the closet. I stared at it miffed.
"Where are we going?" I asked, knowing the dress was set for a special occasion. Jean smiled.
"My parents are holding a breakfast brunch up in Churchill Lounge. Just for the six of us. So get dressed. Remy's already waiting at the restaurant."
So I obeyed and we rode the Caravan up to the Lounge. I don't think many have seen how the Lounge really looks like, but I know that when I entered, it was like rushing into a crowded ballroom. I mean, it's the kind of restaurant where they'd set several pieces of silverware and four cups just for one course. And then they'd take all that away and bring you even more dinnerware.
I was pretty exhausted because after all, I DID have a broken arm. But Kurt helped me with the silverware and I drank his share of wine. It was even from then on.
"Oh, Rogue," Jean said, over her lobster since it was a brunch, "I forgot to mention this. Since today is our last full day here, Remy and I will be heading over to Glass Tavern after brunch. You and Kurt want to join?"
"What exactly iz Glass Tavern?" asked Kurt, who promptly told me about yesterday's activities. Remy, he, and Mr. Grey had went golfing. For once, I was happy I could get dismissed from such a routine. Jean smiled, reaching for Remy's hand.
"They sell dinnerware - you know, plates and stuff," I commented. Jean frowned at my explanation. Then I said in a snotty voice, "Something else I forgot to mention?"
"No," she shrugged, asking a waiter to take away her untouched lobster, "nothing at all."
"And tomorrow?" Mr. Grey asked her. She looked at him, and sighing, turned back to me.
"Dad and mom want to take you back to Vermont Stables. The trainer said you and Wilder -was it?- made a connection."
"Connection?" That was such a perfect lie. If I didn't know better, I'd say the trainer was only wanting another visit to pickpocket the Greys' money.
Oh, we're outside Glass Tavern. Better go before Jean screams at me.
8:17 p.m., guest room
Kurt took my arm as we were led into the compact room. Plates and dishes lined the walls and glasses filled the interior. I immediately shuddered at what it would look like if Tabitha had gone on one of her hyper mood swings and decided to bomb the place with her explosives.
The store clerk asked who were the couples, and Jean called that she and Remy were together. And then I piped, "We are too," motioning to Kurt and then me. A surprised Jean and snickering Remy led the clan as we brushed past the silverware and into the room where they kept thousands of glasses. Almost immediately, Jean started roaming, glancing around and biting her lip at the prices. The store clerk then approached Kurt and me and asked when was the wedding date.
"June 8," Kurt said, obviously thrilled at the game, "We were planning on getting married at midnight."
"On a beach," I said, holding back a giggle.
"Oh and don't forget ze black magic witch doctor will marry us," Kurt cried, and I couldn't contain myself. The store clerk was really buying it though.
"A black magic witch doctor?" she asked, clutching her clipboard, "For what?"
"Something about evil spirits lurking at the dead of night," I explained. "And after the ceremony, we're getting free voodoo dolls so when we're mad at each other, we can poke holes into our mini-mes."
"I really didn't wanna get married, you know?" Kurt said, shrugging. I smirked as the clerk rose an eyebrow. "But I want ze voodoo doll, man! I heard it's good for ze trees!"
I guess we freaked her out, because she moved to Jean and never returned to us again.
Remy was also listening, because when we loaded the Caravan, he mentioned, "Jean, I t'ink we should have a black magic witch doctor do our ceremony."
And she gave him hell the rest of the way.
March 13, 2003, 7:12 p.m. at the terminal to Bayville
We arrived at Vermont Stables at about noon so we could catch our plane at seven. Remy wore his jeans and blue contact lenses while Jean dressed herself in a chiffon dress and Easter hat. I managed to pull on a green dress and my black boots, hopefully making Jean not want me ride since she considered my boots the next best thing to ugly.
But she did anyway.
"Rogue," she said, as Wilder came out. Wilder is a brown horse with a brilliant black mane, and the strongest legs that a horse can have. Well, with the knowledge that I have of the animal, I think that to be pretty strong.
"Domingo will help you on the horse." Domingo was the stable buck.
"And you?" I asked, wondering if this was a chance to break my other arm. She shook her head.
"Kurt seems to have slipped from our company. I'm going to see where he's gone off to. My parents are by the stable if you need anything." Then, she was gone. Huffing, I pushed the bucker away and pulled myself up with my good arm, intending to make it just fine over Wilder's back. But just as my body sat on the animal, I couldn't get my leg over the other side.
Talk about disgruntling.
So, instead of Domingo, Remy came over and helped me to sit up properly on the horse. He seated himself behind me, holding on to the reigns. Looking over, I asked why he wasn't coming down. His reply was a single smirk.
"Domingo, I t'ink I'll stay here. Don bother taking Bittersweet out," he ordered, and with a single pull of the reigns, Wilder started walking out of the stable. Then, swat! and Wilder shot out like a bullet from a gun. I think I would've fell off again of Remy wasn't behind me; he rode the horse like some professional I never knew. Then when we were clear of the stable, Wilder slowed down and came to a steady walk. Remy, all the while, was silent in his thinking.
So I spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "Something I need to know?" He looked at me, and I heard him growl under his breath.
"Can't a guy take some time off from being someone he ain't?"
I saw his point and he smiled because of it. The sun was hiding behind the clouds by now and the air was crisp with tangerine flowers blooming in the frontier. I never thought Connecticut to be this western.
"Is this about Jean?" His grip over the reigns tightened. Wilder's walk came to an awkward halt.
"I actually was hopin' we wouldn talk about 'er," he murmured, getting down from the steed and taking me with him. The dust was blowing around our feet and we watched as the sun tried to peak behind the clouds. "So you and Kurt having any post-weddin' plans?"
I smirked at the playful question. "Yeah- we were thinking of killing about ten cows and sacrificing them to some god." Remy laughed hearty-some as his gloved hands came around my casted arm.
"Always t'ought you'd think o' something t' get out o' the weddin'." Goosebumps burst from underneath the cast; I shivered. "Does it hurt?"
"Naw," I said, blowing it off like I broke my arm all the time. I saw his smile and shoulders relaxed.
"Rogue," he said, so seriously I felt my heart catch in my throat. "It ain't like I should say anyt'in' but Jean...she's...well, she's been...um...changin' me. It ain't like I don love her, but den again, I don like how she's playing some kind o' game I don even know de rules t'." He sighed, and I suddenly took hold of his hand against my gloved fingers. Fake blue eyes met mine and I knew what he was talking about.
"She wants everything perfect," I said, trying not to sound biased as to what I usually thought about the girl. "She's...like that." Remy bit his lip and I gripped his hand tighter. His head came back to face me. "But then again, I'm just saying that sometimes, it's better to rethink than to regret," I said, finding my words harsh. Remy nodded, taking his hand from mine and placing me back on Wilder.
"Sure, Rogue. Sure," he mumbled, and then made Wilder race back to the stables. It wasn't until he jumped off the horse and met Jean in fitful hug, that I knew I had said the wrong thing. When we said our good-byes and hugged and kissed the Greys, walking up the terminal steps, I felt Kurt take hold of my skirt and pull me back to meet him.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concerned. I gave him an awkward look of disappointment and said, "He loves her." Kurt looked at me with fiery eyes of golden mistrust and gave me his bought bag of potato chips.
That simply meant he understood.
March 14, 2003 2:12 a.m.
John called. Our conversation went as follows:
"Rogue?"
"John. Good morning to you too."
"How was your trip back?"
"Good."
"Anything...happen?"
"No?"
"Anything with Remy?"
"Nothing."
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No really."
"Are you okay?"
"No. Why the questions?"
"You're not always this way."
"Well, the trip was okay. But Remy--" Pause.
An impatient, "Well?"
"Well, he's..[sigh]..certainly blind."
"Blind?"
"To not see who really loves him."
Silence. "Oh."
"Oh? What were you expecting?"
"Nothing. But--"
"But what?"
"But haven't you ever tried to even consider...consider..."
"Consider?! Speak, John!"
"Haven't you ever tried to even consider that maybe Remy's not the only one blind?"
Then he hung up. What does he mean by that?! I must ask Kitty later.
Or maybe it's because I really am dense.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
*Good on ya: Australian Slang for Good Job
Thirty-one days until the wedding...