Philophobia

Eight; Getting Married Today

May 1st, 2010
9:32am
The Wolseley, 160 Piccadilly
London, England

Eliza sat at a table, sipping an americano and trying to avoid conversation. Around her sat Oliver Doyle, Anya Doyle, Martin Roscoe, and Joanna Roscoe. They were making polite conversation, avoiding the obvious elephant in the room: a missing Sebastian.

"So, Elizabeth, couldn't get your man out of bed this morning?" Joanna asked, a snide smile on her face.

"In order to get the man out of bed in the morning, he'd have to come home the night before," Eliza retorted which prompted her mother to kick her under the table.

"Ah yes," Martin quipped, "Seb never was one to return home at an early hour."

"Or at all," Eliza whispered. Her mother kicked her again, this time not as hard. "Quit kicking me! We don't even live in the same flat!"

"Anya, Joanna, have you decided on a date yet?" Oliver asked, anxious to stop the fighting between his wife and daughter.

"Of course!" Anya squealed happily. Eliza rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her eggs Benedict.

"We were thinking the fifteenth of May!" Joanna sang, equally excited. Eliza choked on her eggs slightly.  "Imagine how beautiful the Hotel Cafe Royal will be in the spring afternoon sun!"

"That's only two weeks!" Eliza gasped. She stared at her mother wide-eyed.

"Two weeks until you're a married woman! How exciting!" Anaya grabbed her daughter's hand, shaking it slightly. "We'll have to get your dress altered! And pick out a veil and shoes! And the jewelry! Oh, Elizabeth aren't you excited!"

"No!" Eliza shouted.

"Darling, darling, there is no need to shout!" Sebastian groaned as he sauntered towards the table.  Once he was in the vicinity, he grabbed one of Eliza's shoulders and one of her boobs, pulling her close and kissing her. "Didn't you miss me?"

"Seb! We're in public, and I hate you," Eliza told him through gritted teeth, pulling at his wrist to get him way from her. He smiled at her, his mouth opening slightly. His breath reeked of alcohol and weed.

"Hey," he told Eliza, moving his hand from her shoulder to her face. He turned her face towards his, still smiling. He then shook her boob slightly, she pinched his hand in return causing him to retract. "I like this bra. Feels nice. You should wear it more often." He winked and sat down in his chair. "Waitress! Coffee."

"Sebastian! How are you darling!" Anya asked, completely ignoring how he'd just felt up her daughter.

"Oh, I'm wonderful, Anya!" He smiled his signature smile, a smile that made Eliza want to throw up. Furthermore, he refused to address her mother properly which had never sat well with her.

"We're getting married in two weeks," Eliza informed Sebastian, who had stolen a mimosa from his mother.

"Two weeks? Seems a little soon, don't you think?"

"Sebastian, you are twenty-eight years old. Elizabeth is twenty-five. All we want from you is grandchildren, and I don't know how much longer Elizabeth's eggs will be good for!" Joanna exclaimed.