All the Feels

by Heather Nuhfer

  “You are going to be a great best man, too.”

  Just as she said that, I spotted a small tuxedo coat on the rack with purple lapels.

  “Oh. Em. Gee.”

  I ripped it off its hanger and slid it on. It fit perfectly.

  “I’m thinking. I’m best man and maid of honor,” I explained to Ms. Watson. “It’s only fair that I split my outfit duties, too, right?”

  “If you look that good, you kind of have to,” she admitted.

  “Thanks,” I said, offering her a curtsy.

  The seamstress had to add an extra snap to the back of Ms. Watson’s dress, so we waited while she worked.

  “How’s everything with Charles?” Ms. Watson asked. “You two seemed to be having fun last night. Whereas he and Betsy didn’t speak even once.”

  “You noticed?”

  “Of course.”

  “She doesn’t want to be his girlfriend, which she told him.”

  “And how’d he take that?”

  “The right way, I guess? He wasn’t mad at her or anything. Just really embarrassed.”

  “Ah.”

  “But now they are both weird about talking to each other.”

  “And you’ve offered to aid in bridging that gap, naturally,” she said as if it were a fact. Not a question. A fact.

  I did my best not to squirm.

  “You didn’t?” she said, surprised at my involuntary squirminess.

  “I did at first,” I confessed. “I’m not trying to keep them apart.” I could feel the backlog of conflicting thoughts breaking free and making a run for my mouth. “It’s just that he is my friend and then sometimes—sometimes—I think that maybe I like him as more than that. But then he does something extra annoying and I’m like ‘No way, pal. Not ever.’ But then why am I so bleh about him even being friends with Betsy?!”

  Much like in my bedroom a few days ago, Ms. Watson suddenly went stiff. Then she started to stand up, but only got a few inches out of the chair before she sat back down. She swallowed hard and looked back to me. There was a shadow of fear in her eyes.

  “They are both your friends?” she finally said.

  I paused. “Yes.”

  “Then it’s your duty to do your best by them,” Ms. Watson instructed. “People we care about don’t always do what we want, but that doesn’t mean we can control them. Only mitigate the bad and help where we can.”

  “Hmm.”

  The seamstress returned with the alterations, saving me from having to actually comment on Watson’s mission statement.

  Ms. Watson looked at her watch. “We should probably just get changed here and go.”

  “Is it really that late?” I gasped. It was!

  “It’s all under control,” Ms. Watson assured me. “Besides, it’s not like they can start without us.”

  I pulled my dress back on and carried the tuxedo jacket to the car. I could wrangle my hair on the way. Already I felt like a hot mess, but in seconds Ms. Watson had emerged from her changing room looking posh and calm. Somehow, she had even managed to get her hair into a perfect, old-school French twist. She climbed into the car.

  “Off we go.”

  We drove over to the church in silence as I rolled my hair into a loose bun on the top of my head. A few curls popped out here and there, so I put a little pomade on them to give them definition. I thought they looked perfect with the overall fluffiness of my dress. Plus, it made me look super busy. Too busy to talk, even. The silence felt awkward, but I should have enjoyed it because at the church everything became very, very loud.

  “We need to get you inside!” I told Ms. Watson as we pulled into a parking space. There were guests walking into the church already.

  “Let’s find your father,” she said, opening the car door.

  “Have you never seen a wedding movie?! You can’t see each other before the wedding! It’s bad luck.”

  She looked at me like I was bananas.

  “It’s tradition?” I tried.

  She grumbled, but I managed to usher her into a small room outside the main chapel. Next, speaking of ushers, I ran into a very dapper one on my way to find my dad.

  “Charlie! You look great!” I said. He was wearing a real tuxedo with tails and everything.

  “So do you!” He pointed at my dress.

  “Have you seen my dad?”

  “Yeah, he’s in the chapel already. At least, I think it’s a chapel. Hard to see,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “What?”

  “Come on.” He led me down the hall and through the doorway.

  “Whoa,” I whispered.

  The entire room was filled with flowers. Like, filled. Charlie had been right; you could barely see the walls! The only bare spot was the gift table, which was overflowing with presents. Above it hung the portrait I had drawn for them. Guess it’s not too big to lug around if you’re a big lug like my dad.

  “See, not too many flowers,” a voice boomed from behind me.

  “Dad! It’s breathtaking!”

  “Glad ya made it.” He winked at me. “We about ready to rock?”

  I nodded.

  “Cool. I’ll make sure everyone is settled.” He went on a hand-shaking tour through the rows of seats. Almost all of them were already full.

  “Nervous?” Charlie asked me.

  “A little, but I’m not sure why.”

  “Oh! That reminds me.” Charlie dug around in his pockets until he produced a tiny sandwich bag. “They made a bunch but want to give them to you one at a time ’cause they think you’ll have to take a new one every week or so.”

  I took the baggie from him. In it was one solitary gummy bear.

  “Thank you!” I said as I stuffed it into my jacket pocket.

  “You aren’t going to take it right now?” Charlie asked.

  “Maybe in a minute,” I told him. Something else had caught my attention. “There’s the twins … and Betsy.”

  Charlie blew a raspberry and started walking away. “Smell ya later.”

  Betsy spotted me and waved frantically.

  “Wait, Charlie, something’s up.”

  We rushed over to her.

  “Uh, um.” Betsy’s eyes darted around nervously at the sight of Charlie.

  Charlie made an odd ticking noise and looked at his shoes.

  “What is it?” I asked her.

  She snapped out of it, remembering why she had waved me over in the first place.

  Betsy leaned in to whisper, “Your mom is here.”

  Surprise, followed by primal panic, surged through my veins. It was too late. A little stupidpower made a small, happy daisy spring from the palm of my hand. Instinctively, Charlie and Betsy crowded around me so no one else could see. Pretty much instantly, though, the petals burst into flames and burnt the whole thing to soot.

  That couldn’t be a good sign.

  “Where?!” I tried to whisper, but it came out as more of a whisper-scream.

  Betsy nodded out the door toward the parking lot. One would think that was too general of a direction, but as soon as I stepped outside, I spotted her. She was wearing one of those hat-type things that British people wear to weddings. A fascinator. If you’ve never heard of them, look them up. You’ll probably see a picture of my mother in her fascinator because it was the Mother of All Fascinators.

  “Her hat looks just like the mobile that used to hang over my brother’s crib,” Betsy observed.

  It was rather mobile-like. There was a central hat. Red. It was only about the size of a teacup, though. Four red antennae, each about two feet long, arched out of it. Each had a feather-covered orb dangling off its tip. From the front hung a sheer red veil that covered my mother’s left eye and nose.

  “Fascinating!” Charlie nudged me with his elbow.

  Both Betsy and I gave him dirty looks for that horrible joke.

  “Sorry.”

  She was here. That’s what I had wanted. Originally, at least. But now that sh
e was really here and heading toward us at an alarming pace, I had the very bad feeling this was a horrible idea. Maybe she wanted me now. Maybe she had thought it over and felt really guilty! Maybe she would come in and make amends and take me back with her to her figurine-filled abode and I could start again. Normal life. I rushed to the entryway to cut her off. The outside door led into a little room of its own, which was studded with beautiful stained-glass windows that peered into the main room. There were double doors on each of the far ends of the wall leading into the main room. I was grateful. This would give me a buffer to talk to Mom before she went in.

  “Hi!” I greeted her cheerfully as she strutted in.

  She took a step back once she noticed me. “Hello.”

  “Wow, um, thanks for coming.”

  “Ted told me you were really better now. Something about proof?”

  “Uh, yeah. Hold on.” I fumbled around in my pocket.

  “Nope!” My dad’s voice cut through the peaceful classical music that was playing through the speaker system. “You need to not be here.” Dad had spotted the hat and the lady and had left the main room of the church to join us at the front of the building. He was clearly going to take absolutely zero time in kicking her out.

  “Nice to see you, too, Rik,” my mother answered.

  “You weren’t invited. Out.”

  “Oh, but I was. Our dear daughter was kind enough to think of me.”

  Dad put his hand to his forehead. “Veri…”

  I looked around. The other room was full and the wedding was supposed to have started already. People were starting to stare. Even Charlie and Betsy had backed up to give us space.

  “Dad,” I said quietly, trying to shift our rather noticeable little group out of sight, “Just let her stay. Let’s be adults about this.”

  “Yeah,” my mother agreed. “Besides, you should get used to it. She’s coming to live with me.”

  Dad chortled.

  “True story,” she added. “In fact, it was her idea.”

  Dad’s amusement turned into confusion. He looked at me, realizing that my mother wasn’t lying. His brow slowly furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. “What?” he finally said, as if he hadn’t heard her right.

  “I thought that since you and Ms. Watson were starting a new life that maybe … I dunno, maybe I should, too. I don’t know how I fit in anymore.” That last little bit stung as it came out of my mouth. It was almost like I didn’t know how true it felt until I said it.

  Dad’s expression fell. “Veri, no,” he said gently as he crouched down to look me straight in the eye. “No. Our family—”

  “She made her choice, Rik,” my mother interrupted.

  Dad shot back up. “You. You need to go. Now.” He put his hand up into the air, which accidentally signaled Fist Face to start playing the bridal march!

  I stuck my head through the entryway into the main room. Ms. Watson had just entered, but when she noticed that no one else was there, she looked to the back of the room, leaning over to see through one of the doorways. Her small smile turned right upside down when she saw what was happening at the back of the room. She motioned for Fist Face to stop the music. There was a lot of murmuring coming from the crowd.

  “Stay in your seats!” Ms. Watson told them calmly but firmly. “This will just take a moment.”

  “If it isn’t the guardian angel,” my mother said dryly when Ms. Watson marched up to us. “I thought you’d had enough of me already.”

  “Already?” Dad asked.

  “Oh, this one paid me a visit a few days ago. Told me to stay away from my own daughter.”

  “It was you?” I looked at Ms. Watson for an explanation, but she didn’t even attempt to give one.

  “I don’t care what you think is going on here, but this is neither the place nor the time,” Ms. Watson told her.

  Dad let out a shallow breath. “Veri has decided she wants to go live with her,” he told Ms. Watson.

  Finally, Ms. Watson turned her head sharply to look at me. For the first time ever, I saw hurt in her eyes.

  “I’m not explaining it right. It’s not coming out the way it should…,” I tried to tell them.

  Ms. Watson didn’t take her eyes off me as she asked my mother the next question. “And you’ve changed your mind about Veronica’s abilities, have you? You no longer think they make her a freak?”

  I looked at my feet. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

  “And she’s assured me the freaky stuff is done,” my mother explained. “Cured, I believe.”

  “How did you expect to keep that lie going?” Dad asked me.

  Oh boy. “It wasn’t a lie.”

  Now both Dad and Ms. Watson looked at me, aghast.

  “But last night…,” Ms. Watson said.

  “I, uh, Lucia and Dr. Weathers made me something. It … helps. I just have to take it every so often. Like a flu shot.” I fought the impulse to pull the gummy bear out of my pocket. I had a feeling it wouldn’t help my argument.

  “There are so many things wrong here.” Dad sounded defeated.

  “Oh, please, Rik…,” my mother grumbled.

  “Don’t even start with me,” he warned her.

  “You are not at all equipped to care for Veronica,” Ms. Watson stated.

  “You don’t get to tell me anything about my daughter!” my mother shouted. That was the snapping point. All the adults started yelling at each other at the same time. People waiting for the wedding were craning their necks to see what all the noise was about. I went to the doorway closest to me and pulled the doorstop out. As the door closed, I saw Betsy run to Fist Face and tell him something. Seconds later, as I was closing the other double door, the classical music was blaring through the sound system at ten times the volume it originally was. It blocked out the yelling. And possibly damaged some eardrums. From where I was standing, though, I could hear everything they were saying.

  “You only want her if she is cured!”

  “You’re a monster for keeping her this way!”

  “I can’t believe you’d do this. No, actually I can. Especially today.”

  Things were starting to get fuzzy. I don’t mean fuzzy warm or fuzzy cozy. My vision was starting to go fuzzy and it felt like I was swaying from side to side. I’d never been seasick, but I imagined this was exactly what it was like. The arguing continued.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means exactly what you think it does. This doesn’t have anything to do with Veri. This is all about you! Just like everything always was!”

  Suddenly I was jerked to one side, toward my mom. I assumed she had pulled me by my elbow, but she wasn’t even looking at me. She was still deep in it with Dad and Ms. Watson. Then, again, I was yanked in the other direction. The force was strong enough to make my head flop to the side. Suddenly I realized what was happening, but it was too late.

  Yank! “You both need to stop!” Ms. Watson tried to cut through their argument but was more focused on me. “Veronica?!”

  “She’s fine!” my mother screeched. Fling!

  “Does she look fine?!”

  Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

  My powers had reared their ugly head in an epic-event kinda way. I felt so unsure and conflicted about my parents that I was literally being pulled side to side depending on their argument. The bigger problem was that now that I was in the midst of it, I couldn’t control it or calm it down. As I got more upset, I was being tugged harder and faster until I was thrashing across the room. Dad grabbed my arms and tried to hold me still.

  “Veri?!” I heard Charlie’s panicked voice cry out.

  “Chuck! Pull the fire alarm before anyone sees her!” Dad instructed him. “Make them go out the other way!”

  “Ah!” I cried out in pain. My dad was strong, but my powers were stronger. They’d break my arms off if he didn’t let go.

  “You are why she’s like this!” my mother hissed at Dad.r />
  The fire-alarm bell rang out.

  “Everyone’s running out the emergency exit in the back!” Charlie yelled to us.

  “You have to let her go, Rik!” Ms. Watson called out to him.

  “No!” he shouted. “Veri! Veri, come on!”

  “She has to do it herself!” Ms. Watson told him.

  Just then my powers flung me so hard that I broke free from dad’s grip, went flying across the room, and smashed into the gift table, knocking it down. The force of the impact was enough to break my power surge.

  “Veri! Veri!” My dad lifted me out of the pile of presents.

  Dad looked me over as Ms. Watson did a more professional check of my eyes.

  “You’re okay?” she asked as she wiped something purple off the side of my face.

  “Think so, considering.” I looked around and noticed the purple on her fingers. “What is that?”

  Ms. Watson sniffed her finger. “Smells slightly indelible.” She patted my head. “It’s only ink. You crashed into the inkwell on the table. The fancy pen-and-ink set your dad wanted for everyone to sign the guest book—it must have spilled on you.”

  “Permanently purple?” I asked.

  “No, it’ll come off with some wipes I have in the car.”

  “Phew!” I looked around, suddenly noticing the quiet. “Wait, where’s Mom?”

  “She took off,” Dad said with disgust as he peered out a window.

  “Who could blame her?” I said, seeing the mess I’d made of the gift table. Then it hit me. “I ruined the wedding!”

  “No, you didn’t,” Dad said instantly.

  “I did.” It was pretty obvious. All the guests were gone. The presents were smashed. They weren’t married.

  “Were you arguing with anyone?” Ms. Watson asked pointedly.

  “Well, no.”

  “That’s what caused this to happen to you. You didn’t cause this,” she said definitively.

  I felt tears fall down my cheeks. “I’m still sorry. I can see why you don’t want me around anymore.”

  “What?!” they chorused.