The Antelope in the Living Room: The Real Story of Two People Sharing One Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

begins before 8:00 a.m. I have an early-morning disability. It’s a real thing, even if it’s only in my head.
    The good news is, I was able to convince him that, yes, while I wasn’t fit for public consumption, I was okay to drive, and he let me take the test. The bad news is, I still had two more weeks of training left. By the time I got home for good, a week before my wedding, I had a full-blown case of bronchitis. And what bride doesn’t appear even more radiant when she sounds like a six-pack-a-day smoker?
    So I hauled myself into the doctor’s office to get every antibiotic known to man because I didn’t want Perry to think he was marrying an octogenarian named Hazel who came complete with an oxygen machine. Although I never would have fit in better at the Village Oaks apartments. I was one large girdle and a Murder, She Wrote episode away from finally being one of them.
    By Friday night it was time for our rehearsal dinner, and thankfully I was feeling like a human being again. And there is nothing like the adrenaline that comes with knowing everyone you love is on their way into town to celebrate one of the biggest days of your life with you. I could have lifted a bus off the ground.
    A few weeks earlier, I’d called my Me-Ma and Pa-Pa to see if they were going to be able to make the trip. They were both in their late eighties at the time, and I knew the four-hour journey might be too much for them. But Pa-Pa answered the phone with his usual “BIG MEL!”
    We talked for a while, and he assured me that he wouldn’t miss the wedding for the world. Then he asked me if I wanted to talkto Me-Ma or, as he called her, “my cook.” I said I did, and as he handed the phone to her, I overheard her ask, “Who is it?”
    And he replied, “Heck if I know!”
    So basically he’d just spent ten minutes reassuring someone he didn’t know that he wouldn’t miss her wedding for love or money.
    But that Friday morning my aunt and uncle called to let me know they’d packed up Me-Ma and Pa-Pa and were indeed on their way to San Antonio to see their oldest grandchild get married.

    The whole day was a flurry of hugs and friends and family. It was filled with the excitement that comes only a few times in life, when you know you’re on the precipice of a whole new beginning. Perry and I sat at our rehearsal dinner that night, surrounded by everyone we loved, and I know neither of us had ever felt more grateful, because not only had we found each other, but we’d also been given the gift of some of the best friends in the world who had taken the time to come celebrate with us and occasionally point out that they knew it was true love when they saw a picture of me dressed in camo and holding a gun.
    Because listen, sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do to reel in Mr. Right Who Wears Snake Boots and Makes His Own Ammo.
    The next morning dawned bright and early. I hadn’t slept much at all the night before because one of my special talents is the inability to sleep before any type of life occasion. This explains why I’ve spent most of my birthdays, Christmas mornings, and final exams in a blank, yawning stupor with bags under my eyes.
    But I had an appointment to get my hair styled at 8:30 a.m., which made me seriously question what genius thought a noonwedding was a good idea. My other talent is committing to things that seem like a great idea at the time and regretting it later. The irony is that Perry had almost called the noon wedding a deal breaker when his mother told him he and his groomsmen would have to wear morning coats and possibly gloves, and I talked him into doing it at that ungodly hour with the promise he could wear a plain black tuxedo. Can you imagine what the Dowager Countess of Grantham would have to say about that? Americans are so crass. Was this a wedding or a barbecue?
    In case you don’t know (Because I didn’t. I had to research “morning coats.” And this was in the days before