The first time they bumped into each other, she was holding a bouquet, and he was giving a bride away. She could feel him looking at her, and she blushed the same color as her peonies and tried not to smile more than the beatific Mona Lisa half-grin she’d had plastered on her face all morning. She'd smiled so much her face hurt. She couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room and drink alcohol from tiny bottles and frown at her reflection in the mirror in order to flex the overworked muscles in the opposite direction.
It’s never appropriate to flirt with the father of the bride—everyone knows that. And it isn’t appropriate to flirt with the uncle of the bride, and it isn’t appropriate to flirt with any relation of the bride. Except he wasn’t a relation of the bride. He was a stand-in. That’s what she’d heard anyway. The bride was estranged from her family, and so this man was a coworker or a boss or a mechanic, something like that.
Why was Wilma even here? She hardly knew the bride. But she did know the groom, and not in a nudge-nudge, wink-wink way, but kind of in a nudge-wink-nudge-wink kind of a way.
The two had almost hooked up back in college, at a party in which people had come dressed as their favorite cartoon characters and she’d been Wilma Flintstone (because of her name) and he’d been Barney Rubble (because of his) and something about the taboo quality of sleeping with her cartoon husband’s best friend had appealed to her, but it never happened. They’d been too blotto that night, and then the window had closed.
Not that there hadn’t been a little bit of chemistry. But she’d never been great with Bunsen burners.
Instead, they’d become friends. Even though most life coaches, therapists, influencers, best friends, and the occasional used car salesman will tell you that a man and a woman—a Barney and a Wilma, as it were—can never be actual friends. There will always be a pulse between them. But not for these two. Sure they’d been close. Lean-up-against-each-other-whilst-studying close. Hanging-out-on-picnic-blankets-in-a-park-at-sunset close. A-whisper-of-a-spark-but-not-enough-to-fan-the-flames close. So they’d relegated the relationship to the Friend Zone, and look at that, naysayers, you can be friends with a person of the opposite sex.
Kind of.
Before getting engaged, Barney had always been there for Wilma. When she’d broken up with her long-time man and had needed to move out of the apartment fast, he’d shown up with a borrowed pick-up and a lot of cardboard boxes at one in the morning. When she was crying in the bathroom at work, incoherent over a two-night-stand that had gone unexpectedly awry, he’d not only come to her office, he’d shown up in the ladies' room, dried her off, and taken her out to the pier to throw bread crumbs to the seagulls and put her world in perspective.
They were almost like couples in ads you see on TV for medication with too many side effects to say in one breath. Easy with each other.
“Why aren’t you dating?” her bestie had asked.
“Because he’s Barney,” she’d answered, as if that were an answer. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t.
He’d been able to convince his betrothed to include her in the line-up of bridesmaids by saying that if she didn’t, he was going to put Wilma in with his groomsmen. So that’s why she was standing there, although the rest of the pretty maids seemed destined to delude her, dissuade her, shade her. Evade her.
So she stood in a bridesmaid dress the color of wet paper bag, something she thought the bride had chosen especially for her because the dresses were each a different hue and the ones on either side of her were a lovely chocolate and a pretty taupe. Why had she gotten grocery-store-bag brown if the bride didn’t hate her?
The faux father was smiling at her again. He was good looking, not that much older than her, she thought, dark hair, blue eyes. A bit hot, actually. And she wondered if he thought she looked attractive or ridiculous or six of one and half a dozen of the mother of the bride, who was looking lovely in lavender. Oh, was Wilma ever lightheaded. How long were weddings anyway? Why had she agreed to join in? She could have told Barney no, thank you but no, I appreciate the gesture, and also no. Yet her mom had said do it, you love him, he’s your guy.
“You love him.” That’s what her mom had said. You. Love. Him.
Now, standing in a wilting line of maidens in the hot church, she realized something she never had. Maybe she did love him. Maybe that was why the bride had put her in a paper bag. Maybe it’s why she felt so awful, had drunk too many vodkas on the airplane, had gotten him a gravy boat as a wedding gift because it was so obviously a joke to her. Who in the world wanted a gravy boat? Gravy boats were the epitome of the 1950s. But then Betty, his one and only, his heart’s desire, had a lot of 1950s in her. There were doilies on the furniture of Barney’s future, Wilma would bet three months’ salary on that.
The air felt cloying around her. Too much gardenia in the bouquet with the peonies. Had nobody told the bride that it’s best to use mild-scented flowers. That the ones she’d picked were kind of awful. The shower Wilma was looking forward to was going to be very hot with a lot of hotel soap all over to get rid of every last trace of this miserable day.
She hadn’t drunk enough water prior to the event. She realized this too late. But it had been intentional. The idea of needing to take a leak for the entire ceremony had kept her from even a solitary sip before the shindig started. And now it was going on and on, and there was a wasp in the corner of the stained glass. Batting its wings uselessly. In her mind, the wasp wanted to get out of the ceremony as badly as she did. But it didn’t stand a chance. Or buzz a chance. Maybe it was secretly in love with Barney, too.
Suddenly, she had the horrifying sensation that she she might pass out. Her legs felt wobbly. Then the priest began saying those words that they say in movies but she hadn’t realized they spoke in real life, as well. The ones about standing up and stopping the wedding if you had a reason. Like, if you were in love with the groom, but you hadn’t known it until now. If you had pretended you were Wilma this whole time when you actually had wanted to be a Betty. With doilies. And a gravy boat.
Her knees went first, and then the rest of her, sagging almost silently, and that’s when the faux father stepped in and caught her, carried her like a groom does a bride over a threshold to symbolize something we no longer recognize. He had her outside before anyone else could respond, and he was setting her in the shade and calling for a glass of water.
She relaxed as soon as the breeze hit her, as soon as she knew she was out of the hot building, and probably out of Barney and Betty’s lives forever. The stand-in was looking concerned, and she drank the water in a way that wasn’t lady-like at all, the front of her paper bag dress growing damp. He sat back against the trunk of a tree and watched her rehydrate, and only when it was clear she was going to be okay did he put out his hand and say, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Fred.”
“Wilma,” she said, and smiled.
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Congratulations on winning the contest!
What a beautifully crafted story! The layers of self-discovery and that perfect Flintstones twist were masterful.
The tension building to that fainting scene and the ironic ending with "Fred" - pure storytelling gold.
You have a real gift for capturing those beautiful, messy, complicated moments that make us human.
Congratulations!
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Hi Sandrine,
Thank you! Once I started writing this one, I saw Flintstones references everywhere. I appreciate you taking the time to write to me.
Best, A
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OH MY GOODNESS! This was adorable! I love the concept of realising you're in love with the groom when it's too late. It's got lots of humour and glorious imagery. Well-deserved win!
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Thank you, Alexis. I have no idea where the story came from, but I am elated that people like it.
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Great story. Very well written. Congrats on winning the competition. We'll deserved.👍
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Hi Michael,
Thank you so much! It was unexpected and exciting!
:) Annalisa
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Oh man, what a time to realise you love the groom. But, also what a time to find Fred. I love your writing style and humour. The hyphenated words all add charm. You won me over at the mona lisa half-grin. Great work!
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Thank you so much! While I was writing this, I started seeing Flintstones references every where! Total frequency illusion!
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YAY! Congrats!!!! So happy for you!!!
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Really enjoyed this story and of course, the great finale! Congrats on the win.
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Hi Joni,
I have read that writers are often "plotters" or "pantsers." I am generally a pantser, so I don't always know the endings of my stories when I start writing. I was delighted she got a HEA even if it wasn't with Barney.
Cheers, A
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🫶🏼🫶🏼 so good.
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Aw, thank you.
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Such an evocative read—puts the reader right in her too tight shoes and damp paper bag brown dress. Well-deserved win!
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Hi Molly,
I once stood in a paper-bag dress. That part of this fiction was 100% true.
:) A
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Bravo. Well-written. You deserve the win.
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Hi Millicent,
I think that a lot of people are craving a little bit of happiness right now. Thank you for writing!
A
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Really excellent study in awareness. The Halloween party sets up this dual reality of who people are separate from the roles they play. The use of the Flintstones characters keep the reader constantly aware that they are reading a story full of familiar tropes, even if, in this will-they-won't-they, they won't. This is a well-crafted piece fully comfortable in its genre, and positively delightful to read. Well done!
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Hi Keba,
Thank you! I wasn't sure if people even know who the Flintstones are anymore! I grew up on the cartoons and the vitamins. I appreciate your words. Cheers, A
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Ohmigosh, i absolutely LOVED this story, its soo well written. The build up was real well done, I found myself reay feeling for Wilma
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Oh, thank you! Made my day!
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So, so good! I love her thinking through the whole ceremony especially the wasp on the window. Now Fred and Wilma will have their happy ever after! Congrats!
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Thank you, Lisa. I was hoping that even though the two main characters didn't have a happily ever (as per the prompt) readers would accept that someone was going to be happy anyway.
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Fun and clever! Congrats on your win!
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A light sweet story about the one that got away, congrats on the win! The faux father was a very clever character idea. Fred and Wilma, a modern stone-age family?!
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Congratulations, Annalisa! This is a well-deserved win.
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Hilarious and so well written! Congrats!🎉
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Hi Rose, Thank you. I write a lot of different genres, but my favorite comments are when people think I write funny. It is (in my opinion) the most difficult type of writing. I'm glad you enjoyed my piece! A
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I totally agree! Humor is so hard to write, but you make it look effortless!
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Yabba Dabba Doo! Great story, I liked how everyone matched up at the end.
Thanks!
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Such a fun, charming piece! Loved the humor, the Flintstones references, and the bittersweet twist at the end. Beautifully done.
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Oh, thank you so much. I'm so glad you enjoyed my story.
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Congratulations! I don’t agree with the several detractors here who seem to say that this story is too light or juvenile to be worthwhile. I think the lightness, the breeziness, of the story is its greatest strength. It also evokes the discomfort we’ve all felt in situations where we don’t feel like we belong. I look forward to reading more stories by you!
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Thank you, Viola. I do tend to write light-hearted when I can. I wasn't even going to enter this one because I didn't know if I could do a piece that didn't have a happily ever after. :)
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Such a good story! I loved the switch up from gifting the gravy boat as a joke, to suddenly realizing it was something she wanted with Barney! Beautifully done!
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Thank you, Ariel! I have never given/gotten a gravy boat. But I do remember seeing them on many a wedding registry!
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sweet irony she didn't loose her love after all.
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Thank you for writing!
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