My oldest friend got married in Austria. I was the Maid of Honor in a country that doesn’t really do Maids of Honor. The night before the wedding, her brother got incredibly drunk on schnapps and was stupidly hungover the next day.
“Do I have to go to the wedding?”
“Alex, did you just ask me if you have to go to your only sibling’s wedding? Yes. Of course you do.” I gave him essential oils and made the trek to get my hair done with the ladies.
The wedding day was going really well until we actually got to the venue. I had to sign the marriage license and practice the song that I was going to sing while the groom played guitar. Suddenly, I couldn’t find the bride. Anywhere. No one could find the bride. Eventually they came strolling up, twenty minutes late. You cannot be angry. You cannot show that you are angry. The wedding starts. It’s starting? Where are her parents? I was sitting on the stage with the bride, groom and one groomsman, Armin. Even the other bridesmaid, Kate, was in the audience. No procession, no bells and whistles. One could partly like that. Look up, her mom and dad are standing in the back of the hall. They didn’t even get seats to their daughter’s wedding.
Afterwards, a giant party. Austrian tradition is that the groom’s friends steal the bride and the bride’s friends steal the groom halfway through the seven hour long reception to go to a bar for a few hours and come back for the sausage and cheese afterwards. Bride said no way in hell, she paid for a reception, she’s getting the whole thing.
Kate and I aren’t really having fun. Sitting in the few available seats with her mom and dad. A man named Kristoff comes up. Tells the bride’s mother with a whiskey in his hand that he’s stoned. She’s alarmed, but it’s funny enough. Innocent enough. Eventually Armin comes up and asks me to dance. I don’t know these Austrian dances and he’s laughing at me the whole time. Not feeling great. I’m going to Paris tomorrow and I’m ready to go to sleep for my 5:30 wake up to catch a train to Frankfurt.
Kate and I dance together, trying to keep the secret that the stupid Americans don’t know these dances. Kristoff keeps trying to break in and get me away from her. I find a way to extricate myself. The bartender sees this happen and gets him away from me.
Watching the band. Kristoff keeps trying to get onstage. To flirt with the lead singer. Bartender gets him away from her too.
Grab a glass of wine with Kate. Heavier things are being poured, but I just want wine to make me sleepy. She gets to talking with someone else and I’m talking to Armin. Kristoff comes up. Eyes solely on me. On my body. On my chest. Eventually he’s grabbing me. He’s touching my chest and attempting to get under my dress. He’s grabbing me in front of Armin and no one is doing anything. No one is helping me. I’m a VIP at this event, at my best friend of 17 years biggest day in her life. You can’t make a scene. I get his hands off of my body and I ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. Finally Armin takes me to the bar, away from Kristoff. His eyes are also solely on my body.
Eventually I find the groom and tell him what’s happened. I can tell from the purple stain on his lips that he won’t remember in the morning and he doesn’t really seem to care now. He dances with me and I can see the bartender watching the dance floor, watching for this predator that moves through it. Keeping him away from the band. Keeping him away from me. My only friend in this entire castle.
I find Kate. I tell her what happens. I’m texting my boyfriend an ocean away, telling him what’s happened. He’s concerned about me, but doesn’t seem too worried about what happened. Kate is worried. She can see the look in my eyes, that I’m about to crack. Just before midnight, she convinces me that we can go. We’ve made our showing, I have a train to catch in a few hours.
The tram back down from the castle won’t be running until about 2:00 when the party starts to wind down. We walk down the stairs, trying to make the best of a bad situation, our shoes in hand because we never fully broke them in. Taking pictures of each other like Cinderella escaping the ball.
We get back to the hotel and I say goodbye to her. She’s helped tonight more than my best friend.
The next day, I get on my train to Frankfurt. I sit in a compartment with an Indian man who lives in London. We talk about American politics and how stupid we look to the rest of the world. Crossing the border into Germany, the police ask for his passport and say that I don’t need mine. American politics are apparently also alive and well in Germany.
I board my flight from Frankfurt to Paris. I arrive, get on a bus to my hotel and wait in the circus themed room for Tory to also land. She arrives, we grab her key and we laugh about the ball pit in the lobby. We get to the room and laugh about the fact that there’s a king sized bed and full sized bunk beds, hidden behind a theatrical curtain. She asks about the wedding and I break down. I’m sobbing in this circus themed hotel and because of the way that everyone else has treated this, I apologize. My boyfriend didn’t seem worried. My oldest friend didn’t seem worried. Her soulmate didn’t seem worried. Kate didn’t seem worried. Tory looks worried. Tory tells me that I am a victim and fuck the bride for not worrying. Fuck this family that I’ve known, loved and essentially been a part of since I was seven years old. And I have no fight in me. I cannot fight this. I couldn’t fight for myself then and I wouldn’t be able to do it later.
I look down at my phone. I’ve received a friend request from Kristoff.
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