Matrimony Homies

1: Team Bride (Loren)

Damn, I look cute! Jauntily jogging up the steps from the Aldgate East Underground Station, I am relieved by my choice of chunky sneakers, the socks hidden away. My grey pencil skirt, hitting mid-calf, restricts my movement some, but not enough to slow my ascent from the Tube. My bright pink sweater, tucked in, makes me feel stylish and chic without having to be miserable for the sake of fashion. Cause damn! I look cute.

Did I say that already?

Then it must be doubly true.

At the top of the stairs, I take a deep breath of the London air, immediately choking on the exhaust fumes. A man on the street glances at me oddly, and I shrug at him. "I'm from Wilmslow," I say as if that explains everything. Which of course it does! Obviously Wilmslow has cleaner air than London. Everyone knows that. Hoisting my baby blue handbag onto my shoulder, I start to turn away when the man nods knowingly at my inane comment before lecherously running his eyes over my body while he releases a long whistle as though he is the kettle boiling for tea.

Narrowing my eyes, I pause and pose, twisting every which way. "I know. I look downright amazing, right?"

"Oh, yeah you do." He waggles his eyebrows. "How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"Unfertilised, thanks." Flipping him off, I orient myself to the streets, turning left onto the A1202, my strides lengthening as the music in my AirPods sets a brisk but manageable pace.

An older Black woman sidles next to me, so I nudge down the volume enough to hear her words once I spy her lips moving.

"...would never, but sometimes you young ladies don't have the sense God gave a sparrow. That was brave but stupid, so I'm just going to walk beside you for a few minutes until he's out of sight. Is that okay?"

"Absolutely," Slowing my pace so the older woman can walk beside me, I express my gratitude. "And thanks."While I want to appear chastened by her words, I'm on too much of a high. Dinner with my bestie! It feels like forever since we've sat down to eat together.

"You're welcome," the woman comments. "I've got a daughter your age, and she's headstrong too."

"Not the first time that word has been used to describe me." My laughter exposes my joy at the evening's plans and not at being called 'headstrong'. I've been called worse.

The spring sun hasn't yet started to set, but the cloudless sky signals that the sinking sun will not include much colour variety. So disappointing. It's a short 3-minute walk from the Tube to the restaurant. At the next street, the woman peels off after glancing behind us. "All clear," she calls, waving to me before she enters a tall apartment building. So kind of her to be my self-appointed protector. When the current song ends, I impatiently anticipate what might play next on my random playlist. It's part of the adventure of life, right? The unknown. What song would the universe bring my way?

When the chords to 'As it Was' begin, I brusquely stop in my tracks, my breath hitching in my chest. Shit. Stupid universe. Don't let this be an omen! Frantically fumbling for my phone and furiously clicking to the next song on the playlist, I breathe a sigh of immense relief when the new Florence and the Machine begins playing. Like one of the paddles that slowly stirs a giant vat of our award-winning juniper gin mash, I brush aside my concerns. This night is for besties only. No reason to think about anyone else. Resuming the walk, I allow my mind to drift to tonight's dinner and the invite that triggered it.

"Come try this new vegan restaurant with me while you're in London," Gemma had begged on the phone the previous week.

"You know I'm not vegan," I whined, my stomach growling for a quality steak, which was a silly reaction since it had been ages since I'd had meat with any frequency. There's seafood, of course, but that's not technically meat. Not to me anyway. Basically, four legged animals are meat, and I'd sworn to reduce my consumption once I learned how the harvesting of meat impacts the environment. While I can't save the planet alone, I don't need to contribute to its destruction either. On the rare occasion I want a piece of bacon or a cheeseburger, I don't feel as guilty about it.