by Roya Carmen
C’mon Peter, I silently plead. Everyone’s getting impatient.
Kayla plops down next to me. “How do you feel?” she asks. “Nervous?”
I nod and attempt to smile, but it comes out all twisted because I’m just so riled up.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” she reminds me.
Corrie wiggles her little behind between the two of us. There really is no space for her on the loveseat but that doesn’t stop her. “Just look at those two,” she says. “They make me sick.”
I peel my gaze away from the kids to look at Gabbie and her new man, Eli. They really are a little sickening to look at – so in love. “I’m happy for her,” I tell Corrie. “She deserves it.”
Corrie laughs. “I know she does,” she says, “but did she really need to find someone so hot?”
Kayla wraps an arm around Corrie. “Green is not a good color on you.”
“Everyone’s just so in love and happy,” she says. “And I’m just a bitter soon-to-be divorcée.”
Kayla squeezes her tightly. “I have a feeling that you’ll be fine too. Look at you in that dress… gorgeous.”
Corrie grins happily.
I smile. Leave it to Corrie to make everything about her. I’m the one who’s nervous as hell, and waiting for her missing fiancé, and she’s the one moaning about her life… again. But underneath it all, she’s a sweetie. She’s always been there for me, as have Kayla and Gabbie.
The wedding planner is running around again… just the sight of her makes my stomach clench. She signals for Kayla to come with her with a curious expression; round eyes and a tight smile.
“Did something happen?” I ask. “Is Peter okay?”
She nods. “He’s fine,” she says absentmindedly as she drags Kayla along with her. Corrie springs off the loveseat and follows them, nosy as always.
My mind goes to the worst case scenario. He’s been in a horrible car wreck on his way here. He and the groomsmen are all laying in pools of blood on the side of the road. I shake my head.
I’m sure he’s fine. He’s just late.
My hands start to shake, and my throat suddenly feels tight. I’m losing it. I don’t want to lose it – I don’t want to ruin my makeup, I don’t want to make a scene. I can’t go anywhere in this get-up – this stupid dress is enormous. I bury my face in my hands and try to rein myself in. I cannot lose my composure.
Everything will be all right. He’ll be here.
But why isn’t he here already? Could he have changed his mind? Did he get cold feet? I can’t even fathom the possibility. Peter would never do that to me. He’s too sweet and considerate to leave me like this, surrounded by all these people. He knows me. He knows that would be my worst nightmare.
My gaze darts around the room and I spot Momma, speaking with Sylvia. She is the most beautiful mother-of-the-bride I’ve ever seen; shiny iridescent blue dress, her dark tresses in an intricate up-do, her ears adorned with silver dangling earrings. I’m not used to seeing her all dressed up like this – she doesn’t even look like Momma.
I study her more closely. Her face is long and she looks completely drained. The radiant glow she had on all day is gone. Something’s not right.
2
WHEN SHE TURNS TO ME, I know. I know something terrible has happened. At first, I go to the only feasible conclusion – Peter is hurt. “What happened?” I ask, imagining the worst.
She sits next to me and takes my hands in hers. “I… I’ve spoken to Peter’s parents, and... Sweetheart, there’s been a change of plans.” She doesn’t sound like herself and she takes a long breath before going on. “They… they say that Peter had a change of heart, and he’s not coming. They’re very, very sorry.”
My world falls apart in the next few seconds as I work out the reality of my situation. My whole life as I knew it has crumbled. My fiancé, the love of my life, has left me at the altar. He’s humiliated me. He’s wrecked me. My family and my friends are all here, waiting for that perfect moment that will never come. How will I ever be able to face them?
“He’s not coming?” I ask, not wanting to believe it.
Momma doesn’t say a word. There’s nothing else to say. I slowly venture a look up at the room. Everyone is shell-shocked; mouths are hanging on the floor, eyes are full of pity, arched brows and confused expressions. Sabrina asks her mom what is going on. Almost everyone here knows Peter, and they, like me, have a hard time believing he did this.
Corrie is the first by my side. She wraps her tiny arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Maeve.” She pulls away quickly. Her eyes are brimming with tears. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
I shake my head.
Gabbie and Kayla both kneel at my feet. “You’ll be fine,” Gabbie says. “We’ll go out there and tell everyone that the wedding’s been put off. You don’t need to go out there.”
I breathe in a sigh of relief.
Kayla rests a hand on my knee. “You’ll be fine, girl,” she says. “You’re one of the strongest, happiest girls I know. And you’re amazing. He doesn’t deserve you.” She’s crying too.
I sob harder. I let it all out. Why the hell not… my mascara is already ruined.
The poor kids look so confused. They’re all so small and precious in their pretty dresses and little tuxes. They were all told that they’d be part of a very special day. And now, they’re staring at a blubbering mess, wondering what the hell has just happened.
Well, I’ll tell you what happened, kiddoes. uncle Peter is a fucking prick, and he stood up auntie Maeve on the most important day of her life. He stole her heart, took her virginity, made a million promises, wrenched her heart right out of her ribcage, trampled it with his fancy shoes, and ran it through the paper shredder on his desk. He pretty much ruined her life.
Maddie trudges slowly up to me. “What’s wrong, auntie Maeve?” Her sweet face breaks my heart.
“The wedding’s not happening right now,” I tell her. “Uncle Peter changed his mind. He doesn’t want to marry me… maybe I’m not good enough—”
Momma pats me on the shoulder. “Enough of that,” she says, cutting me off before I traumatize Maddie further. I’m glad she stopped me – what kind of example am I setting? I’ve always thought of myself as a strong woman. Why am I letting a man dictate how I feel, how my life will go?
But I can’t help wondering… was I ever good enough for him? Why did it take him so long to ask me to marry him? And when he did, why did it not quite feel right? There was a little something nagging at me, a little something in his expression, in his stance. He wasn’t one-hundred percent into it, and I knew it.
I just chose to ignore it.
Obviously, he just wasn’t ready.
Sylvia officially takes over, reprising her wedding planner role. This is probably the worst case scenario for her. I wonder how many runaway groom scenarios she’s seen, if she’s ever seen one.
“Okay, everyone,” she announces. “The wedding will not take place today.”
“No kidding, Sherlock,” Corrie quips. “What do we do now?”
“Well, I’ll go and tell everyone that the groom has been indisposed, and that there won’t be a ceremony today.”
Corrie stands up. “Indisposed?” she snaps. “Is that another word for cowardly avoiding one’s responsibilities?”
Sylvia clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable.
“Let me go up there,” Corrie says. “I have my little speech all ready.”
Sylvia shakes her head. “I don’t think—”
“It goes something like this…” Corrie goes on. “Hey, how’s everyone doing today? Well, turns out that Peter Walker is a coward. He decided not to show up to his own wedding. He doesn’t deserve Maeve. Seriously, she’s way too good for him. And we should all gather together and go throw eggs at his house.”
I laugh. It feels strange to cry and laugh at the same time, but that’s Corrie for you. “Well, we live in a condo,” I point out, “but I like
where you were going with that.”
She cocks a brow. “Oh yeah, forgot that.”
I wonder where Peter is right at this moment. Is he home? Will he be there when I go back home? Or did he run away?
“Anywho,” Sylvia says. “I’ll go now and tell everyone.”
Gabbie sits next to me, and pulls a tissue from her clutch, dabs at my wet cheeks – she is such a mom. “Do you need help getting out of your dress? We can help you clean up.”
“We can go back to my place and get drunk and watch corny Emma Stone movies,” Kayla chimes in. “I have Crazy, Stupid Love on DVD.”
That sounds really good to me. The last place I want to be right now is home. I’m so thankful for my friends. Where would I be without them?
“Can Mandy come?” I ask. Mandy is still shell-shocked. Turns out the Cinderella fairy tale was all a sham, and she can’t quite wrap her mind around that. She looks as devastated as I am.
Kayla smiles. “Of course… the more the merrier. We’ll have a blast.”
“Whoo-hoo,” Corrie cheers. “Girls’ night!”
They’re all trying so hard. They’re patching and gluing the cracks, desperately trying to keep me together. We all know that I might completely break apart any minute if I dwell too much. No pity party for me.
“Sounds like a plan,” Gabbie says. “Eli can look after the kids… I’m in.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and squeeze Gabbie’s hand. “Let’s do it!”
The room is dark, and I drown in the buzz of hushed chatter and popcorn popping. I loaf on Kayla’s orange sofa, sandwiched between Gabbie and Corrie. My wedding dress is a cloud on Kayla’s bed, and I’m wearing her cozy pajamas. The PJs are covered with penguins – they don’t cheer me up. They just remind me of that time Peter and I went to SeaWorld. He told me that penguins were monogamous, that they stayed together for life, that they were just like us.
I want to crawl under a rock and die.
The expressions on everyone’s faces are not helping. They’re all looking at me like I’ve just lost a limb. And in some ways, it feels like I have.
“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” Kayla asks for the umpteenth time.
I nod and fiddle with my phone again.
Corrie tears it from my hands. “Enough of that,” she scoffs. “He’ll call you when he calls you.”
So bossy.
Momma, who is sitting in the armchair across the sofa, shifts in her seat and reaches for her cup of tea. “Corrie is right, Maeve. Tonight’s all about you. Forget about him for just tonight.”
Her soothing voice brings me to tears. This is just like old times. She used to always crash my sleep-overs, rudely plopping her rear on the couch between me and my friends. “What are we watching?” she’d ask. But that’s my momma for you, young at heart.
She’s back to her regular self; her dreadlocks are loose, and she’s wearing leggings and a hippie tunic. I like her that way.
Mandy is lying down out on the shag rug. “I love this movie,” she trills. “Ryan Gosling is so hot in this.”
I grab the DVD case, and study the movie graphic – Steve Carell sprawled out on the sofa, and a woman’s sexy stilettoed leg propped on a coffee table. So hot. It reminds me of that one time I dressed up for Peter – the whole nine yards. Sexy black teddy, stockings, garter and five inch slutty heels. He loved it. And he showed me how much he loved it too.
I’m never going to have sex again. I’ll have to buy a better dildo.
Marilyn sits on the carpet and crosses her legs. “You should eat something at least,” she urges – such a big sister. She’s always been a mother-figure, often more responsible than Momma, who is an eternal child. I take after Momma, and Marilyn takes after Daddy. A small part of me is glad Daddy is not here to witness the disaster that is my life. He would have never stood for it – he would have hunted Peter down and wrung his neck.
“I can’t eat a thing,” I tell her. “Getting your heart ripped out of your chest does that to your appetite, I guess.”
She jumps to her feet and dashes to the kitchen. She comes back with a banana. “Have this.”
I stare at the banana. It’s bruised, like me. “You want it?” I ask Gabbie, who loves bananas.
“Eat the damn banana,” Marilyn scoffs.
I shake my head, and peel the stupid ugly banana.
The movie starts, and Kayla passes bowls and drinks around. She plops a huge bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table.
Right off the bat, Julianne Moore’s character tells her husband she wants a divorce, that she’s had sex with another man. My imagination runs wild. Could Peter be having an affair? Is he in love with someone else? It just doesn’t make sense – it’s so unlike him. There must be some explanation.
“You guys think Peter is having an affair?” I blurt.
The whole room turns to me, slack-jawed. Kayla pauses the movie.
“He is not,” Kayla says. “It’s Peter we’re talking about here. It’s always just been you, Maeve.”
“Kayla is right,” Momma says. “Peter is a good boy. I’m sure he has a good reason for doing what he did.”
“Well… he is a man,” Corrie pipes in. “Men cheat.”
Gabbie shakes her head. She would know – she lived through it. “Not all men,” she says to Corrie. “You’re such a cynic.”
“He seems like such a nice guy,” Mandy chimes in, her words soft. “I mean… I don’t really know him that well…” she trails off.
Marilyn steals the remote from Kayla. “He’s not cheating on you,” Marilyn scoffs, and resumes the movie. “Enough of this shit.”
We all watch Ryan Gosling stride in the club, dressed to the nines in a flashy red suit. I forget all about Peter for a second or two.
“God, he’s so hot in that suit,” Corrie says.
Kayla laughs. “Yep, he could definitely have his way with me.”
Mandy smirks. “He could have his way with any one of us.”
I think about Peter in a suit. God, he looked good in a suit. He wore such cool buttoned shirts, and the classiest ties, and he had a knack for tying it all together flawlessly. And the shoes… I sigh. Why am I thinking about him like he’s dead? Probably because that’s what it feels like. I feel like a widow. I was abandoned so suddenly, I was completely blindsided. It feels like he perished in a car wreck. I steal my phone back from Gabbie. No texts. Nothing.
Why is he doing this to me?
I eat my banana, the texture feels like paste in my mouth. I watch the movie absentmindedly. Emma Stone’s big blue eyes mesmerize me, and Ryan Gosling just makes me ache. I don’t really know why… and then it hits me.
“Is it just me, or does Peter look a lot like Ryan Gosling. I never noticed that before.”
Kayla smiles tightly. “There is a bit of a resemblance, I guess, but I think Ryan is taller.”
“But the eyes, yeah,” Gabbie pipes in. “Similar eyes.”
“And that cocky smile,” Corrie adds.
I press a sofa cushion to my face. Ugh… “I can’t watch this.”
Kayla squeezes between Gabbie and I. “Hey…” She wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder. “Why don’t we go to my room? I’ll give you something to help you sleep… it’s all natural,” she explains. “You’ve had a long day.”
I don’t fight her. I want this horrible day to end. I take her hand, and she leads me to her bedroom.
I love it in here – it’s full of colors and patterns. Large paper lanterns hang from the ceiling, washing the space in a soft glow. The huge leather upholstered headboard centers the room, and there are about a hundred pillows on her bed.
She throws one at my face. “Pillow fight,” she cheers.
I laugh, and throw one right back at her. We throw them all until they’re all on the floor. The bed is bare, save for my stupid wedding dress. Kayla lifts it carefully. “I’ll put this in my closet for now.”
I nod and sit on the bed. “Sure.”<
br />
Momma swoops in, never one to enter a room quietly. “I came to tuck you in, sweetie.”
I smile. “Momma, I’m twenty-seven,” I remind her.
She runs a hand through my locks, my fancy up-do long ago destroyed. “You’ll always be my baby, Maeve.”
She sits next to me on the bed. “Marilyn, Mandy and I were talking, and we all think that it would do you good to come home for a bit,” she says. “A change of scenery might make you feel better. You need to get away from all this… take a breather. And it’s perfect timing,” she adds, “with you losing your job and all…” she trails off.
Thanks Momma, thanks for reminding me that my life is the pits.
“I don’t know…”
“I was thinking… just one week,” she goes on. “You haven’t been home in ages. We’d all love to have you.”
Bugs, fishing, sunsets, tall grass, rock beaches, and that hometown smell – fish, the burger stand down the street, and trees.
Maybe Momma’s right. I won’t see too many reminders of Peter there; no fancy restaurants, men in flashy suits, or BMWs zooming down the road. Greasy spoons, plaid shirts and pick-up trucks, more like.
It’s the perfect plan.
Just one week.
3
NEVER LOVE ANYONE who treats you like you’re ordinary. – Oscar wilde
Dear Journal,
Life sucks! Life is fickle, isn’t it? One day, you’re on top of the world… you have a job you love, and you’re shopping for wedding dresses, about to marry Prince Charming. And the next, you get sacked, and your Prince Charming turns into a fucking toad. I’m sorry for cursing, Journal, but fuck, fuck, fuck.
You know that I usually don’t curse, but I think I’ve earned the right to. This has been the second worst week of my life. Ever.
I don’t understand. Why did Peter do this? What happened?
I’m at a loss. I don’t know where to go from here. Momma says to not think about it too much. To take one week to not think, just enjoy life and my family, like I used to. It seems so long ago now. It’s been ages since I’ve spent more than two days back home. As you know, Peter was never a fan of Westbrooke. He’s not exactly the rugged type. I guess that’s what I found attractive about him initially. He was so different from the guys I knew back home, so different than Blake. And that’s what I was looking for – the complete polar opposite of Blake Taylor.
