26
I won’t scream. I won’t. This is fine. It’s absolutely not a problem. Yep. I can handle this. Who can’t handle a little problem like a fucking corpse propped up on the altar like some macabre puppet in front of two thousand people?
I am totally fine. Toh-tah-lee.
I think I’m going to throw up. Or faint. Or spontaneously combust. What the hell is going on? Why did they bring him out?
I study the two groomsmen propping Ah Guan up. Since I’m only a few feet away from them, I can see that behind their sunglasses, they’re drunk AF. All twelve of the groomsmen are. They’re all swaying on their feet and giggling and pointing in random directions, and none of them seems to know what the hell’s going on. Can absinthe have such a dramatic effect on people? Just how much did Fourth Aunt give them?
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. I need to do something. These guys aren’t going to stay on their feet for long, and once they go down, there’s no telling what’ll happen with Ah Guan’s body. I look around and try to catch the wedding planner’s eye without calling too much attention to myself, but it’s useless; she’s behind the crowd, overseeing her various staff members, probably coordinating the bridal party’s entrance in time with the music.
“And now, here he is,” the MC booms, getting back into his rhythm after the interruption of the groomsmen, “the man of the hour, the handsome groom, Tom Cruuuuise Sutopo!”
Snapping out of my panic, I raise my camera and capture the moment as Tom swaggers down the aisle with a smug smile. Each time I press the trigger to take a photo, I want to laugh hysterically. Why am I still bothering to do my job? There is a literal corpse on the altar! Things can’t possibly get any worse than they are right now. Still, somehow, through my panic, I keep taking photo after photo, even adjusting the shutter speed in between pictures. Here’s Tom looking smug; here’s another of Tom looking even smugger; here’s yet another one of Tom, looking nice in his suit but also smug. And the whole time, Ah Guan’s body is only a few feet away from me. It’s as though I can feel the coldness of his aura creeping up my back. I have to keep stopping myself from turning around and looking at him.
As Tom nears the altar, his smile wavers. Ah. He’s spotted his groomsmen. He tries his best to keep the smirk on his face, but his eyes flash as he takes in their rumpled tuxedos, their sunglasses, and their unsteadiness. He takes his spot next to them.
“What the fuck, guys?” he says, his lips still stretched in a fake smile. “Seriously, what the fuck?”
The groomsman next to Tom turns to stare at him, mouth agape. It takes a few moments before his brain apparently catches up and he says, “Whur?”
“Unfuckingbelievable,” Tom mutters. “You guys are in so much trouble.”
I swallow. Tom’s only separated from Ah Guan’s body by seven groomsmen. He’s so close to him. When he leans forward to look down the scraggly line of groomsmen, my heart squeezes like a fist and I very nearly pass out. But all Tom does is sneer and shake his head at them before straightening back up.
The music winds down to a pause and the MC says, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome the bridal party!” Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major starts playing, and the first bridesmaid comes out.
With all eyes on her, I’m the only one who spots the first groomsman’s head bobbing down slowly before jerking back up. Oh no. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep.
I inch closer to Tom. When I’m within whispering distance, I say, “Tom, I think we need to dismiss your groomsmen.”
He glances at me like I’m an irritating fly, and scoffs. “Right, and be groomsmen-less on my ceremony like some fucking loser? Not happening.”
“Look at them. They can barely stay on their feet.” I nod toward the groomsmen, at least three of whom are swaying more dramatically. Shit, one of them’s holding Ah Guan up. If he falls . . . “If they fall over, it’ll make such a huge scene,” I hiss, my voice rising with panic. “It’ll ruin everything!” Like my life, for example.
A flicker of uncertainty crosses Tom’s face, but then he lifts his chin, his jaw working into a stubborn clench, and says, “If they fall over, I’m gonna sue the shit out of them.”
“Sue them?” How does his twisted little mind even work? Sue his own friends? I mean, sure, from his point of view, his friends have let him down majorly, but still, that’s not a good reason to let this go on and ruin his own wedding. Talk about cutting off your own nose to spite your face. Also, with a twist of guilt in my guts, it hits me that it’s not even really the groomsmen’s fault. Fourth Aunt was the one who got them drunk out of their minds. I need to fix this, but how? I take out my phone and dial the WP’s number.
“A round of applause for our gorgeous bridesmaids,” the MC announces, his voice dripping with obvious relief that none of the bridesmaids, so far, seem drunk.
“Hello? Meddelin?” the wedding planner says. “What is it? Aren’t you on duty—”
“We need to get these groomsmen off the stage.”
She sighs. “Yeah, they seem really drunk, the shitheads. I don’t know how we can do that without stopping everything, though.”
The fourth bridesmaid’s already walking down the aisle. I’m running out of time.
“Ask the MC to announce it, make it seem like it was the plan all along to have just the bride and groom on stage. Have him be like, ‘And now the bridal party will leave so the groom and the bride can have the stage to themselves.’”
“Huh. That could work. Yeah. Good idea. I’ll let him know. God, those fuckers, they look like they’re about to fall over.” She hangs up and I release my breath. Please, please let it work. Let the groomsmen hold it together long enough to get off the stage. Of course, once they’re off the stage, I have no idea what’s going to happen with Ah Guan, but one step at a time.
When the last bridesmaid has taken her position at the altar, there’s an expectant hush. In Chinese-Indonesian weddings, by the time the ceremony starts, the groom and close family members would have seen the bride, but the rest of the wedding guests have not. The MC shouts, “And now! The moment you’ve all been waiting for! Here comes our beautiful bride, Jacqueline Wijaya!”
Everyone oohs and aahs as Jacqueline, flanked by her parents, rounds the corner and walks gracefully down the aisle. She looks like a fairy queen. Her dress billows gently in the wind, making her look ethereal, and behind the sheer lace veil, her face is radiant. But as I zoom in and take pictures of her, I see that her smile is forced, her chin trembling slightly. Tante Yohana says something to her, and she gives a small nod.
In the distance, I can see the wedding planner running to the MC and whispering something to him. He frowns and shakes his head. My heart sinks. He’s refusing to make the announcement for the bridal party to leave the stage. The wedding planner says something else, gesturing wildly, and the MC looks over at the stage, wincing when his gaze lands on the groomsmen. Jacqueline arrives at the stage, embraces both her parents, and then turns to face Tom, who smirks at her.
“And here we are, the bride and groom, oh what a lovely couple,” the MC says. “Before the ceremony begins, will all the bridesmaids and groomsmen please leave the altar so that the bride and groom can have some privacy?”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, and Jacqueline and Tom turn around in confusion.
“What the hell’s going on?” Tom says.
I walk over to them as discreetly as I can and say, “I think it’s for the best. The groomsmen look ill. You don’t want them to cause a scene during the ceremony.”
Jacqueline’s eyes widen as she notices the groomsmen in their disheveled state for the first time. “Oh my god. Yeah, you’re right. Yeah, tell them to go.”
“No!” Tom snaps. “They’re MY groomsmen, I get to decide what to do with them, and I say they stay.”
“They’re not things, Tom,” Jacqueline hisses. “Look at them, they’re a mess. They need to go lie down.” She leans over and raises her voice. “Yes, thank you all so much for being here. Um, the ceremony’s going to run pretty long, so you guys can take a seat.” She gestures at her bridesmaids to leave as well.
The bridesmaids start walking back toward the aisle, but the groomsmen continue swaying in their spots until Jacqueline nods to one of the bridesmaids. She walks across the stage and takes the first groomsman by the hand, apparently intending to lead him down the aisle.
“No! Don’t any of you dare move,” Tom barks, loud enough for the guests in the front to hear. They shift and look at one another, and the murmur gets louder.
“You’re not being reasonable,” Jacqueline says. “Go on,” she says to the bridesmaid, “take them out of here.”
The bridesmaid does as she’s told, looping her hand through the groomsman’s arm and gripping it tight with her other hand, staggering a little when the groomsman sways and rests some of his weight on her.
“Stop,” Tom says, but it’s too late. All the bridesmaids, who obviously despise him, have rallied around and are helping the groomsmen off the stage. “No, wait—WAIT!”
It all happens in slow motion. I see Tom reaching out desperately, angrily, grabbing anything he can reach. I see it unfold so slowly, as though he’s moving underwater, or in a dream. Or a nightmare, rather. Because right then, the nearest man to Tom is groomsman number seven. One of the guys holding up Ah Guan. My mouth drops open, and a “Nooo” comes out, low and slow and much too late.
Tom grabs the groomsman, jerking him backward, and in his inebriated state, groomsman number seven tumbles over like a bowling pin. Groomsman number six, who’s propping up Ah Guan’s other arm, stumbles too, his feet staggering across the stage until he reaches the edge and falls with a dramatic splash into the infinity pool. Without any support, Ah Guan falls down onto the stage floor like a log.
I’m going to be sick. This is so bad—this is—it can’t be happening.
People are screaming. More groomsmen have fallen into the water and—oh god—they’re too drunk to swim.
“Save them!” someone screams. There are more shouts, but I can’t make any of them out. The world is a blur of noise and movement.
Several of the guests take off their jackets and plunge into the water. Nathan is running from the back of the ceremony, where he must’ve been standing, overseeing the proceedings. His security guards run ahead of him and jump into the water.
Reality comes rushing back and I realize that in the chaos, no one’s noticed the body. Ah Guan still lies on the stage, undisturbed while people clamber everywhere. This is my chance. I’ve got to get him out of here. I grab his arm and I don’t hesitate, not one bit. I put all of my strength into it, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins propels me up, up, up, and before I know it, I’m standing, Ah Guan’s arm flung across my shoulders. I grip his waist tight, not even grimacing a little at the fact that I’m holding a dead man, not giving my brain that space to freak out, and take a step forward. And another. I can do this. I can walk him out of here.
“Oh god, he’s completely passed out,” Jacqueline says, rushing forward.
No. No, no.
“It’s okay!” I cry.
“Let me help—”
She’s reaching for his other arm. Her fingers brush his hand. His cold, stiff, dead hand. The expression on her face freezes. “Wait—”
“No!” Instinct overtakes me and I shove her aside—I can’t let her find out, not beautiful, pristine Jacqueline, not like this, not—
She stumbles back, eyes wide, and before I know it, she topples over the aisle and splashes straight into the water.