© Catstelltales, 2017
Picture credit: Unsplash (Photo by Luis Llerena)
When I get the door this morning and find out who is at the other side, it all becomes to make sense. ‘It’ refers to the upcoming family dinner, for I should get dressed properly and do my hair—Archie is getting married. My brother have dated innumerable girls all over the United States since ages, yet I have never thought that he would marry one of them. That’s just unusual—odd, out of his inner circle custom, out of the blue, you name it. I think I am never getting used to it.
So the one who just knocked on our door seconds ago introduces himself—in a particular accent but I’m not in a full focus so I have no idea what it is—as Troye Appleton, a representative person from the wedding organizer that Archie hires to handle his enormous, swanky agenda. I don’t know if my brother has successfully robbed a bank but … wedding organizer? That is huge.
I let him in and close the door. I’ve never had a personality lesson about how to welcome a guest that would set it all up by snapping his fingers—Bonnie once said that they are people like that, I don’t believe her, but do not unbelieve either. Bonnie has never been married before and she has no older sibling who would get married this soon so maybe she jumped down her own conclusion just by imagining an organizer person in her version.
However, he has a seat and crosses his legs with a very elegant gesture—it suits him so much considering his black and white semiformal outfit. Troye Appleton looks very pretentious, graceful, classy, almost like a black and white peacock if it really exists. He combs his shimmering black hair and seems to put much enough gel to make it until weekend. Somehow I think he’s the right guy for the job.
“I’ll get my brother, so … what would you like to drink?” I stand still in a stiffness like a new student who comes one semester late into the class.
“I’d be delighted of having a cup of tea—preferably Earl Grey—but everything would be enchanting, thank you very much.”
Now I recognize his British accent. Ten points to Gryffindor to make me feel like I was a saucebox with this ripped jeans and oversized t-shirt. I recall whether we have a pack of Earl Grey as quick as I can, but then I end up going to the kitchen and getting back with two cups of ordinary tea. I go upstairs to get Archie then sit on the sidestep to eavesdrop—don’t judge, after all this secret plan that steering clear of me, I deserve to know by no matter how, and eavesdropping is the smoothest way, isn’t it? Isn’t it? It is.
I can hear nothing at all. But then Appleton mentions Ed Sheeran in his sentence and it lets out the beast of me so I walk downstairs and appear.
“Ed Sheeran?” I asks to assure that my ears didn’t betray me seconds ago. “You plan to invite Ed Sheeran?”
“Look who’s playing spy.” Archie raises his left eyebrow and smirks annoyingly, totally makes maximum effort to embarras me in front of his wedding organizer.
“You. Are. Inviting-Ed-Sheeran?” I parrot in disbelief, but the beam of my eyes is surely showing the world that I am so damn overjoyed. This feeling will explode any minute my brother say ‘yes, it’s Ed Sheeran-Ed Sheeran’.
Ed Sheeran will sing his new songs live at my brother’s wedding! It’s crazy! It’s very big! Huge! Giant! Oh my dear God, please make it true.
“I consider it. Appleton knows Ed Sheeran.”
“It would be too much if I say I know Ed Sheeran,” Appleton rectifies, his eyes closes for a half second to adorn his elegance as he shakes his head no. “But I must say that I am trying my best to reach the singer and beg him to present on Mr Collins’s wedding day. It would be so exhilarating, wouldn’t it?”
Appleton settles any other wedding business to Archie—seems like they have already made a deal with everything related to this. When I walk Troye Appleton into the door, he turns his head to me and smiles.
“Such a fortunate sister you are, Miss Collins,” says he. I frowns then pull a confused smile—if it can be called a smile. “And why so?”
“This is not supposed to be my business, Miss Collins,” Appleton turns his body so we are totally vis-a-vis now. “But the young Mr Collins once told me that he never meant to count you out of all this wedding plan. He said he was just … genuinely afraid that you might disapprove.”
An odd guilt trip flushes over me and I can’t help it but folding my hands into my chest. I know what it is about.
“He said that you dislike his soon-to-be wife.”
“Why should I … wait a sec. He’s not marrying her, isn’t he?”
“The plummy woman he is about to marry is Miss Sloane Kilcher.”
I scoff in denial, “I don’t loathe Sloane Kilcher.”
“Anyway,” avoiding argumentation, Appleton continues, “that is mostly the reason why he is inviting Ed Sheeran to his wedding.”
“Because he felt guilty?”
“And to beg you to forgive him.”
“Nonsense.” I shakes my head. “He doesn’t have to feel guilty. I don’t care to whom he’s getting married. He already left me anyway. He got rid of me, remember?”
“You can call me Noelle.” I correct.
“Siblings never get rid of each other for good. They are like pigeons. No matter how far pigeons fly, they always come back.”
This man succeeds to freeze me in a suffocating silence and I hate it and he seems to know that I do, maybe that is why he opens his mouth again to convey a joke.
“Although of course you both have to be good at navigating.”
Okay, it’s supposed to be a joke but not really tickling. However, I chuckle a little, let the man be laughing with me instead of laughing at me.
“I’ll note that, thank you, Mr Appleton.”
“This is actually out of business custom, but you are allowed to call me Troye. It would be—“
“—exhilarating,” I say it at the same time he does and we laugh again. “Anyway, does it always get you so busy arranging somebody else’s wedding?”
“Of course it does. I work fedora over soles just to make sure that the company will not get a bad name. I do not work in a wedding organizer by just snapping my fingers to people.” His statements flick me as if he can read my mind.
As his leave and I close the door, I find out Archie stands behind the couch. His face turns more serious than it was. But I think we have to have a deep talk. A kind of siblings deep talk.
“So I heard that you’re gonna marry that Kilcher girl.” I start, refuse to go around the bush. Archie eyes me with full of guilt. “Sorry,” he says.
“Don’t be. You got my approval.”
My brother, the grown-up man I always look up to, is now staring at me with disbelief. “God, Noelle, you really love Ed Sheeran, don’t you?”
I chuckle. “You will promise me that you’ll always be coming back no matter how far you go with Sloane.”
Archie looks at me suspiciously. “Did Troye Appleton just tell you a siblings-pigeon analogy?”
I shrug my shoulder, but finally nod a yes. “Come to think of it, it is not exactly ‘no matter how far’, because the theory said that it is just about 100 miles away so they can get back home and 400-600 miles for a champion racing pigeon, but I like that analogy.”
“Well, I’m good at navigating.” states Archie. “Whether it’s only 100 or 400-600 miles away or more, I am coming back.”
“Good. And since you have already bribed me, I want Sloppy Joe to be included in the catering.”
Information about pigeon is taken from Pigeon Control Resource Centre.