Happily Ever After - Part Three

by Rossi

"Damn," Fatimah muttered between teeth clenched around a couple of bobby pins. Arms trembling slightly from being raised above her head too long, she made another attempt to plait her mass of black hair and then gave up. "At this rate, Adrian will be marrying a total mess," she told her reflection sourly.

The communal bathroom door banged open, revealing Allison, still in the dress she'd been wearing the night before, although considerably more wrinkled now, her hair like a haystack and eyes barely open. She had a towel slung over her shoulder and her toiletry bag dangling from one hand.

"You look terrible," Fatimah observed, looking at Allison critically as the taller girl ran the tap in the next sink and splashed double handfuls of cold water on her face.

"I feel worse," Allison groaned, drying her face. "But it's nothing a couple of Nurofen and a hell of a lot of caffeine won't cure." She watched Fatimah struggling with her hair and reached for the brush. "Here, let me."

"Would you? I can't keep my arms up for long before they get tired, and I've still got to put my dress on," Fatimah said gratefully, half-turning so Allison had access to the back of her head. "You always did do a good job with it. I've missed that."

"I miss doing it," Allison said, running the brush carefully through the long black mass of hair, deftly avoiding both antennae and wings. "So, how are you pulling up this morning? Nervous?"

"A little." The last word cracked, and Fatimah shrugged. "Very well, a lot. I wish my mother was here."

"She's not coming?" Allison raised her eyebrows. Fatimah, watching Allison's face in the mirror, nodded.

"No. Adrian isn't Muslim, and it is forbidden for me to marry him. Or for my family to attend." Fatimah sighed. "Adrian offered to convert so that my mother at least could be here, but I wouldn't let him. If my family cannot accept my husband as he is, as I love him, then I don't want them to."

"Do they know? About..." Allison hesitated, unsure of how to put it. Fatimah's brown eyes, reflected in the mirror, held hers steadily.

"About my condition? No, they don't. I do not see why the fact I am dying should change anything - my father effectively rejected my whole existence when he cast me away, and I want my death to be my own." The words were determined, but Allison could see the trembling of the small girl's lips. She continued brushing, letting the motion soothe both of them. Fatimah breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that had threatened to rise. When she met Allison's gaze again in the mirror, those tears still lingered, but didn't fall. "But I am afraid. I _do_ wish my mother was here." Before Allison could think of anything to say - what could she say that wouldn't sound trite? - Fatimah changed the subject: "Could you French braid it? You do it so well, and I want to look nice for Adrian."

"It's your day, mate - whatever you want. It's the least I can do," was all Allison said with a small smile. Once more their eyes met in the mirror, an agreement of sorts passing between them. Nothing else needed to be said, at least then.

*BANG!*

The bathroom door burst open, and Karen staggered in, bolting immediately for a toilet cubicle. Without bothering to close the door behind her, she half-fell onto the floor in front of the toilet and proceeded to be noisily sick.

"Morning," Allison said, once the storm had abated enough for Karen to slump back and wipe off her face with a wad of toilet paper.

"Kill me," was the reply. Then Karen opened her eyes and got a good look at Allison, who was looking far healthier than she was supposed to. "No, scratch that. Someone kill _you_ first, so I can watch, and then put me out of my misery."

Allison continued to braid Fatimah's hair, but raised a quizzical eyebrow at her former room-mate. "Someone got out of the bed on the cranky side this morning."

"Considering we spent last night on the floor, I'm not surprised. Why are you standing up?" Karen managed to climb to her feet and stumbled to the sink, alternatively drinking handfuls of water from the tap and splashing her face.

"I guess I off-loaded most of it last night. Fair's fair - you saw the state of me in the lift."

"I did, sort of. My memory got kind of hazy somewhere between the Sex On The Beach and the Great Screaming Orgasm." Karen spat a mouthful of water into the sink and leaned heavily against it, peering at herself in the mirror. "Oh dear God, I look disgusting."

"You do. You both do, in fact," Fatimah observed, looking from one of them to the other. "It is lucky for you two that this isn't a religious wedding. What would you have done at a formal ceremony, reeking of alcohol and looking like death warmed over?" Allison finished her task, and Fatimah accepted her hairbrush back with no small amount of insulted dignity. There was, however, a small twitching around her mouth that suggested she was in fact trying not to laugh, not noticed by her two housemates in their hungover states. "I suggest you both shower, and see what can be done to make yourselves acceptable. Honestly, I would have expected this from the boys." And with that, the Fairy made her exit, braid swinging behind her. The effect would have been more intimidating if she hadn't been wearing pastel pink PJs with kittens on them.

Karen looked at Allison. Allison looked at Karen. Waiting until they judged Fatimah out of earshot, they burst into uncontrollable giggling.

"Better watch it, mate, Fatimah's gunning for your position as BitchQueen," Karen snorted. Allison's giggles, which had been easing, redoubled, so all she could do was wave her hand at Karen in a gesture that possibly meant something, or perhaps nothing at all.

"She has a point, tho'," she managed to squeak out at last. "We do look fucking awful."

"We could always say it's a new look. Y'know, like heroin chic," replied Karen, barely managing to gasp out the words between laughter.

"I can just see Naomi Campbell with the mascara panda eyes, wearing a traffic cone on her head and covered in love bites."

"Dereliction, a new line in fragrances from Calvin Kline. Smell like you've been on a bender for three weeks and woke up in a rubbish skip, just like our models..."

"Ow, stop it, my head's pounding again." Allison winced and rubbed her forehead. Karen looked satisfied.

"Good, you _are_ in pain. Now I feel much better." Allison poked her tongue out at her best friend, and the giggles burst out afresh.

"So," Allison said eventually, when they had sobered enough for coherent speech.

"So," replied Karen. They were both sprawled on the tiled floor by now, Karen with her back against the toilet cubicle, Allison propped against the wall in between the two sinks. A long pause followed Karen's response, broken finally by Allison:

"Did Fish tell you? What happened at my place in February?"

Karen's face was impassive, her tone neutral. "Yep, he did."

"Are you..." Allison faltered, then regrouped. "Are you angry at me for what I did?"

"That's not for me to say. If anyone should be angry, it's Fish. What happened between you two is for you two to sort out." Karen shrugged, just a little. "But if you want me to be honest here, yeah, I was kind of pissed off at you. You did a half-arsed job of telling him what was going on with you, and left me and James to pick up the pieces. And you know Fish - he _sulks_. You have no idea of the number of times I had to prise him out of that damn room of his. Not to mention the money I spent helping him drown his sorrows. Fish is a typical bloke - you've got to get him pretty well tanked before he actually admits to even having feelings."

Allison squirmed, but couldn't think of anything to say to that, beyond yet another apology. And 'sorry' was rapidly becoming the most heavily used word in her vocabulary.

"I got through to him eventually, though. Made him realise how futile the whole thing was, that there was no way you'd live anywhere else, and there was no way he'd survive the first full summer there," Karen continued. "He's still dealing with it, mind. But he knows it'll never happen."

Which explained his strangely reasonable behaviour in the toilet the night before, Allison realised. The way he'd seemed to accept it when she'd said that she didn't love him in a romantic sense. She looked up to meet Karen's gaze.

"I owe you one," she said.

Karen nodded. "You owe me more than one, roomie." She clambered to her feet, grabbing the frame of the cubicle door to support herself.

Allison grinned, in spite of herself. "And I'm sure you'll think of something appropriate. Now, go get your shower stuff before Fatimah remembers us again. You know how shrill she can get."

With a wince, Karen nodded. "Besides, we reek."

"That we do," Allison agreed.

***

"We are gathered here to celebrate the marriage of Adrian and Fatimah..."

Sydney Botanical Gardens under a cloud-chequered April sky. April is not exactly the best time for an outdoor wedding in Australia's largest city, but Fatimah had been insistent to the point of irrationally attached to the idea, and the Fairy could be remarkably stubborn when she wanted something badly enough. Fortunately the temperature had been kind, the wind not much more than a slight breeze, and the sun, whilst intermittent, was mercifully warm on the bride who was wearing a plain white dress with a halter neck that left her shoulders bare and her wings unencumbered. The tiredness was gone from Fatimah's face, and she practically glowed as she looked up at her imminent husband.

"Two young people who have made a commitment to each other, a commitment they wish to formalise before their friends and family..."

The couple turned from their rapt gazing at each other to briefly acknowledge the small assemblage. Most of the people were Adrian's friends and closer work colleagues, but both his parents (and their new partners) had made it, as well as a few other relatives. Amused grins appeared as various individuals glanced at the four housemates - Fatimah just gave them a rueful shake of her head. Which was unfair, as James would say later, since they'd all made what had felt like a superhuman effort in the area of making themselves presentable. The two boys were in nice shirts and slacks, the girls in dresses... If it wasn't for the dark sunglasses each was wearing despite the cloudy day, they'd have blended in nicely.

"Big night?" whispered Adrian's cousin Ben to Karen. She smiled wanly at him.

"How'd you guess?"

"Dunno." He winked at her and turned his attention back to the ceremony.

"Should any one know of any reason why these two should not be married..."

Fish nudged Allison. "Your cue," he murmured, barely audible. She elbowed him, and the movement caught the celebrant's attention - she looked quizzically at the assembled housemates, smiling slightly at the Blues Brothers-esque effect of the sunglasses before returning to her scripted words.

"Adrian, do you take Fatimah to be your wife? To love her and live with her, to share everything with her, for as long as you both live?"

"I do." Adrian's answer was steady, and his smile was almost goofy in its affection as he looked down at Fatimah.

"Fatimah, do you take Adrian to be your husband? To love him and live with him, to share everything with him, for as long as you both live?"

Silence hung heavy in the air, and Fish almost perceptibly winced. But when she replied, Fatimah's voice held no bitterness, no sorrow.

"I do."

"The rings?" the celebrant prompted, and Karen stepped forward, fumbling in the pockets of her jacket. After a suitably dramatic moment, she handed the two plain silver rings to Adrian with a grin. He, in turn, gave the larger of the two rings to Fatimah. Watching for the celebrant's nod, she took his hand and slid the ring onto his left ring finger as the words continued:

"These rings symbolise the promises you have made to each other in front of these witnesses, and the love you feel for each other."

So gently he looked like he was afraid she would break, Adrian slid the much smaller ring onto Fatimah's finger.

"With the making of vows before your friends and family, and with the exchange of rings, I now declare you husband and wife," declared the celebrant. She had no time for the next line, as Adrian caught Fatimah around the waist and lifted her up for a long kiss amongst the applause and cheers of those there. To her surprise, Allison was clapping as loud as any of them, whilst tears ran down her face.

***

"So the deed is done," said James as he poured another beer for Adrian and then Karen from the jug he'd brought over from the bar. The certificate had been signed, the photos taken, the bubbles (in lieu of confetti, which wasn't allowed in the Gardens) blown, the congratulations made... the deed had indeed been done, and now the wedding party had adjourned to the reception, which was taking place in the second-floor function room of a pub not too far from the hostel. The same pub, in fact, that had turned James and Fish away the night before. James had caught the eye of the bouncer as they'd gone in and made a point of doing a model-like turn for him to show him that there would be no breaching of a dress code this time. The bouncer had merely grunted and waved him inside, but James had caught the grin as he went past.

"Thank goodness for that," Karen said, reaching for her glass. "No offence, Fatimah, but next time you get married, how about not coming down with a fatal condition beforehand? I'm stuffed, to put it frankly."

"Next time?" Adrian protested. Fatimah giggled and hugged his arm - she'd barely let go of her new husband since they'd arrived at the Gardens that afternoon.

"Hey, where's Allie and Fish?" asked James, looking around the semi-crowded room.

"If they're bonking again, they can sort it out themselves this time," mock-growled Karen. She was interrupted by Adrian spraying a mouthful of beer across the table in a most uncultured way.

"They're doing what?" he choked. Fatimah handed him a napkin.

"Bonking," she said brightly. "You know, having sex?"

"I know what bonking is, babe," he said, wiping beer off his face. "But those two?"

"Which two? And who's bonking" asked Allison, unexpectedly appearing from behind them. "Don't tell me you newlyweds are already getting frisky on us. You've only been married for a few hours."

"Um, no-one. No-one's bonking," James said quickly. "You seen Fish around?"

"He's over by the bar, putting the hard word on one of Adrian's cousins," Allison replied, waving her hand towards the sandy head bent slightly over that of a rather attractive girl in a red dress, to hear what she was saying over the buzz of conversation and the background music. Adrian followed the gesture and chuckled.

"Sarah? Well, I've got to say, the man has taste," said Adrian approvingly. "She does some modelling part-time to help pay for uni."

"I think it was more she was closest to the bar," Allison chuckled.

"Adrian! You and your lovely bride must give us a waltz!" called Adrian's mother, bustling over. She was a small blonde woman with a penchant for pink - she and Fatimah had bonded over that point - and the dress she was wearing was so pink and frilly she reminded Allison of those dolls on a stick her father used to win for her at the local show. The music had changed to something suitably slow, and Adrian, rolling his eyes at his mother, led Fatimah onto the floor. Their disparate heights made for a comical sight, at least until Fatimah beat her wings enough to lift herself to his eyelevel. An almost collective sigh arose from the female half of the party at the sight - it was almost like a scene from a storybook, the handsome prince and his fairy bride.

"Hope she doesn't tire herself out," Karen murmured.

"If she does, she's got Adrian to look after her," pointed out Allison. Karen sighed, just a little, and then nodded.

"She does, doesn't she?"

Out on the dance floor, more couples were joining the newlyweds. Fish had managed to convince Sarah to dance with him, and he was desperately trying not to step on her feet. Allison felt a small pang at the sight, but had to smile. Karen nudged her.

"Looks like I'm not the only one feeling abandoned, hey?" Karen said. "So much for undying devotion."

Allison nodded. "Yeah, guess I'm not as unforgettable as I would have liked to have been." She glanced over at James. "Want to dance, Blue?"

"Me? Oh, I don't..." Karen employed her elbow again, catching him in the ribs and giving him a meaningful look. "But then again, there's a first time for everything." He followed her out onto the floor, awkwardly putting his hands around her waist as she put hers around his neck. Karen laughed at the sight.

"I can't believe they left a gorgeous girl like you sitting in the corner," said a new voice at her shoulder. She jumped a little, and turned to see Ben, the cousin who had spoken to her at the ceremony. "Would you like to?" he continued, inclining his head towards the dance floor.

"Why not?" she replied, and took the offered hand.

***

This is how it ends.

Not with a bang or a whimper, but with an airport, which could be considered a bit of both. Five friends - and one new spouse - gathered awkwardly in the domestic terminal of Sydney Airport. Awkward because they all sensed that, in one way or another, this was an ending. From here on, things would be altogether changed.

In the end, it was something of an anticlimax.

"That's our flight being called, babe. We'd better go."

Fatimah nodded at her husband's prompting. "We should." She smiled at her friends. "Thank you, all of you, for everything you've done."

"No worries," Fish said. "Send us a postcard from up north, eh?"

"I will." There was a round of hugs and kisses, murmurs of "take care" and "be happy", and then the happy couple were on their way through the gate. Fatimah paused briefly to turn and wave, and then, just as briefly, they were gone.

"So." Karen said.

"That's my line, isn't it?" Allison joked, blinking hard, her nose and eyes just a little pinker than usual.

"If you say so." Karen looked at her watch. "We've got a few hours before the Melbourne flight, bags are checked in... What do you think we should do now?"

"You have to ask?" Fish said, grinning. Beside him, James rolled his eyes. Karen bowed to the weight of inevitability

"All right then," she said. "Let's go find a bar, shall we?"

***

The End.

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