All the Things I Meant to Tell You

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “Yeah, because if they have to reconstruct the whole dress it won’t look the same,” I added. “I love this dress on you, Kim. You look like a Disney queen.”

  “I love it too. I can’t stop looking at myself in the mirror.”

  Twila smiled. “Good. Let’s show the other bridesmaids.”

  I rushed out of the dressing room ahead of them to see who else had arrived. Luckily all the other bridesmaids were there, although they were all congregated on one side of the room, and Samantha was on the other.

  “Hello, ladies. Glad everyone is here. Kimberly is coming out with the first dress. I like to call this one, Fairy Snow Queen,” I said.

  I caught Samantha’s eye roll, and wanted to cuss her out. I was sick of her raining gloom and doom on everyone’s good time. She could take that cloud she carried over her head out of the bridal shop. We didn’t need her negativity.

  “Did you give all the dresses nick names?” Abena said.

  “No. Just the ones I really liked.”

  Traci, Abena, and Debbie laughed. Sour puss sipped sparkling cider. But laughter and sipping both ceased when Kimberly walked out of the dressing room and into the main area of the store. Those other sounds were replaced with squeals of delight. Even scowling Samantha broke a smile.

  “That dress is stunning,” Traci said. “I love the silver threads.”

  “Yeah, they make it look blingy,” Debbie said. “This one is a winner.”

  “I really do love it,” Kimberly said. “Thank you Hahna and Twila for setting this all up. I wouldn’t have known where to begin.”

  “I have to apologize to Hahna,” Samantha said. “I didn’t think they’d be able to find anything for girls of our size in this store.”

  I acknowledged the apology with a tight head nod. I wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. She was going to have to suffer a little bit more.

  “And there are plenty more. This was just the first dress,” Twila said.

  “We don’t even need to keep looking, though,” Traci said. “I can’t imagine another dress looking more perfect.”

  Twila grinned. “You might be right, but we’re going to look at them all. Settle in and have some more champagne and snacks.”

  I let Twila lead Kimberly back to the dressing room to try on the next gown. I sat down next to Debbie, because I had some other Maid of Honor duties I needed to accomplish before I left for my uncle’s funeral.

  “After we leave here, do you all mind coming back to my house for a meeting? I have to leave for my uncle’s funeral in North Carolina, but we have some stuff we need to iron out as bridesmaids.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Samantha said. “I’ve already had a long day. I was hoping this was the end of it.”

  “You don’t have to come if you can’t make it. I’ll email you what we discussed. In fact, I’ll email everyone on the decisions made.”

  “What decisions?” Samantha asked.

  “First we need to decide where we’re purchasing our dresses.”

  “Oh, Donny’s Bridal is having a ninety-nine-dollar sale,” Samantha said. “I think we should just go with those.”

  Abena laughed out loud. “No ma’am. Not wearing one of those cheesy dresses. They don’t fit well, and the fabric is just . . . no. Not doing it.”

  “Well, I hope y’all don’t plan on spending thousands of dollars on a dress,” Debbie said, with real concern in her voice. “I ain’t got it like y’all.”

  “Thousands?” Samantha said. “This isn’t our wedding, it’s Kimberly’s. The only one who needs to go all out is Kim.”

  I ignored this. We were absolutely going to go all out for our line sister’s wedding. I already knew Debbie’s situation and was planning to pick up the tab for her dress, because it was going to be a sight more than a hundred bucks.

  “Well, it’s not just the dress,” Abena said. “We’ll need to pay for a lot of other things. Makeup, hair, shoes, undergarments, and our plane tickets to Jamaica. So, if you need to budget, budget accordingly.”

  “Shit, I need a sponsor,” Debbie said. “And I wish I was joking about that.”

  I tried making eye contact with Debbie to let her know I had her, but I couldn’t get her to look at me.

  “I don’t care about makeup or hair,” Samantha said. “I’m perfectly fine with how I look every day. Why do I need glamour? I’m not the one getting married.”

  “So, you’re just going to be difficult the entire time, huh?” Traci asked. “It’s our sister’s wedding. We all need glamour. Some of us more than others.”

  “I’m not being difficult,” Samantha said, “but we’re not all wealthy. I’m not going broke for this wedding because y’all spend money like drug dealers.”

  I was about to respond when Kimberly and Twila walked out of the dressing room. This dress was a halter style with a big circle skirt. It was beautiful, but nowhere near as perfect as the first.

  “What do you guys think?” Kimberly asked.

  “I like the other one better,” Debbie said. “Go with the bling.”

  “What do you think?” Samantha asked. “It doesn’t matter how we feel. It’s your wedding.”

  Oh my God! I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I knew that wouldn’t be appropriate behavior in the high-end boutique. Neither would pulling that fake bun off the nape of Samantha’s neck.

  “I value your opinions,” Kimberly said. “Or I wouldn’t have invited you here. Fashion isn’t necessarily my forte.”

  “Well, I agree with Debbie,” I said. “This is a gorgeous gown, but the first is still tops, in my opinion.”

  Everyone else agreed with chatters and head nods. Kimberly smiled and nodded.

  “I need some of that champagne,” Kimberly said. “I have a headache. Talked to Ron’s ex-wife right before I came over here.”

  “Yes, you told me she was coming to your office,” Samantha said. “Did you get her together like we discussed?”

  Ooh. She just had to let us know that she’d been privy to information the rest of us didn’t have. I think Samantha had worn out the grace I gave her for writing that article about my business.

  “To be honest, I’m not quite sure how it went. She promised not to make a scene at the wedding, ’cause I told her I’d have her removed by security.”

  “She agreed?” I asked.

  “She did, but I have a feeling problems with her will continue,” Kimberly said. “Not just at the wedding but after wards.”

  “You have us,” Twila said. “We’re your tribe. Don’t worry about her.”

  “More importantly, she’ll have her husband,” Samantha said. “When she marries, she will cleave to her husband and not her tribe of single friends.”

  “Some of us are married too,” Abena said. “And why do you think she wouldn’t need her friends after she says I do?”

  “I’m just resting on what the Word of God says,” Samantha said. “A marriage with Christ at the center just needs three cords. Husband, wife, and Jesus.”

  “Come on, let’s go try on the next dress,” I said.

  I couldn’t take a word, not a syllable, more of Samantha’s self-righteousness.

  Back in the dressing room, Kimberly said, “What is Samantha on this evening?”

  “This evening?” I asked. “This has been every interaction. She was just arguing with everyone about everything. Bridesmaid’s dresses, makeup, hair. Everything. It’s almost like she’s determined to make everyone miserable.”

  “All because I didn’t ask her to be Maid of Honor,” Kimberly said.

  “Well, hurt or not, it’s really shitty for her to act like this,” Twila said. “I know we said the line sisters would always be our bridesmaids, but damn.”

  “This isn’t just about Gamma Phi Gamma, though. She’s one of my best friends,” Kimberly said.

  “Well, she’s toxic as hell,” Twila said. “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

  Kimberly shimmied out
of the dress with our help. “Maybe you guys could help her feel a part of things. Could she have a job that’s all her own?” Kimberly asked.

  “It’s up to you,” I said. “It’s your wedding.”

  “Okay. I’m going to ask her to plan the bridal shower. And we’re going to show up for it and support it,” Kimberly said.

  “I guess,” Twila said.

  Kimberly sighed and pointed to the next dress.

  “Listen, y’all know she and I are close. We’ve always been. The two big girls in the group of Gamma Phi Gamma cuties,” Kimberly explained. “Out of all of us, this was probably her only chance to be a Maid of Honor. None of you would pick her.”

  “Well, you’ve made it easy for me when I get married,” Hahna said. “Twila is the Maid and you will be the Matron of Honor.”

  “What makes you think you’re getting married before me?” Twila said.

  I cut my eyes at Twila and almost laughed. I would be surprised if Twila made it to the altar.

  “A few things, but mostly the fact that I have a man who is completely in love with me,” I said.

  “Until he meets your country ratchet family,” Twila said.

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” I said. “The champagne had helped me put that at the back of my mind.”

  Twila buttoned about ten small buttons on the back of the dress. Another beauty. It had a bit of bling in the way of glitter on the lace and tulle bottom.

  Kimberly scrunched her nose together. “I don’t like this one at all. I look like Glinda the good witch.”

  “Pretty appropriate, don’t you think?” Twila asked. “You’re out here granting Samantha’s wishes and it sounds like you granted Sabrina some too.”

  “Don’t get me started on that. She tried to make it seem like she was afraid of Ron during their divorce. Like he was going to beat her or something.”

  “Whatever,” I said. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Me either. But why would she try to sow discord between us?” Kimberly asked. “Because, of course, I’m going to have to say something to Ron about it. But what?”

  “I wouldn’t say shit about it,” Twila said. “Ron is not a woman beater. That ho just doesn’t want him to be happy.”

  “Agree,” I said. “She can kick rocks.”

  “Y’all think so? I mean, we only knew Ron in college. Maybe things happened later that we didn’t know about.”

  “This is exactly what that ho wanted you to think,” Twila said.

  “She wants to get rid of you, so that Ron will be there, available whenever she wants him back.”

  “Y’all are right. Help me out of this dress. I want to put the first one back on. That’s the one I want to buy.”

  “My favorite one,” I said.

  “Are they gonna ring a bell or something? Take a picture?” Kimberly asked.

  “Um no. It’s not that kind of boutique. We can take a photo if you want,” Twila said. “But I don’t think we have a bell.”

  Kimberly burst into laughter. “Y’all are funny without even trying to be. This is why I trusted y’all to handle all this. Thank you.”

  We helped Kimberly back into the first dress and twisted her hair up in the back, giving her a wedding-like updo. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

  “I love this dress so much,” Kimberly said.

  “Let’s go announce to everyone that you’ve made a decision,” I said, ready for the evening and Samantha’s sour attitude to come to an end.

  Kimberly touched the doorknob but stopped before turning it. “Can you guys not mention to anyone else what Sabrina said about Ron?” she asked. “I don’t want anyone thinking poorly of him based on that.”

  “We’ve got your back,” Twila said. “I’m the best at keeping secrets.”

  “We know,” Kimberly said.

  “I feel attacked,” Twila said.

  “I do as well, but just because I’m not the best at keeping secrets doesn’t mean I won’t keep this one,” I said.

  “I love y’all,” Kimberly said. “And I don’t care what Samantha says. I need y’all even after I get married.”

  She held her arms out for a group hug and both Twila and I obliged. I believed what Samantha said about a husband, wife, and Jesus. But sisters would always be waiting in the wings with a prayer, a word of advice, or maybe the ability to take the ex-wife to task when the current wife could not.

  We were her tribe, and we’d be there for her. Just like we were going to be there for Twila through this sexual assault situation. I just had to figure out how to break it to Kimberly in the middle of planning for her wedding.

  Chapter 19

  TWILA

  I had to pull Traci away from the rest of the bridesmaid crew who’d taken up Hahna on her offer for a post dress shopping meeting. I’m glad we’d convinced Kimberly that she didn’t need to be there, because she would’ve noticed Traci and I stepping away.

  In Hahna’s guest bedroom, Traci pulled a folder out of her Birken bag. She handed it to me. I held it gingerly like it was a live bomb. I sat before I opened it.

  “There are a couple of profiles in that folder. I was able to narrow it way down because we only have about two dozen white men in the approval files for the Lifestyle room. Only three that matched your description. If it’s not one of them we’re back to square one.”

  I lifted the corner of the folder and took a deep breath. I wouldn’t leave this conversation the same. The power of knowledge was synonymous with the burden of knowledge. Even if I didn’t take any actions, knowing would change my life.

  “Do you want the information or not? I understand if you don’t,” Traci said. “I could take the contents of this folder and shred them.”

  “No. To hell with that. I need to move back to my damn house. Do you know how maddening it is to have to hear Hahna and her man humping and bumping all night long?”

  “They never go to his place?”

  “Yeah, but I think it’s like the size of a closet or something. I think Hahna said it was a tiny house.”

  “What the hell kinda pact did y’all make in St. Lucia? Kimberly found Ron, Hahna is with a struggling artist, and you got yourself a trap ho.”

  “We just wanted to throw away our dating rules. Or they did. I don’t even know what I wanted out of it. Maybe, that’s why I didn’t find a man. Wait, I know what I wanted. To not have to get off with a dildo.”

  “That is a good reason to make a dating pact my sister.”

  I was glad Traci distracted me from the folder for a minute. But the weight of it in my hands reminded me. I thought about the handsome lawyer who was interested in me, and how I couldn’t even think about pursuing anything other than social media interaction. I needed to do this. Had to get this whole thing behind me.

  Before I lost the nerve, I opened the folder. The top photograph was absolutely not the guy. Face too long, and beard too sparse. I took that sheet out of the folder and set it on the bed. The next one was him.

  “This is the mother fucker,” I said. “Alexander fucking Adams.” I read the name on the sheet over and over again. Alexander Adams. This was the name of the man who’d ruined my peace.

  Traci sucked her teeth. “I thought it was him. I didn’t have a good vibe about him, so we actually did an extended background investigation on him. Had him followed for about a week, but we weren’t able to turn up anything.”

  “I bet I wasn’t the first woman he raped.”

  “And won’t be the last.”

  “I’m gonna make him regret the day he touched me,” I said. “He’ll think long and hard about messing with another woman.”

  “I stand at the ready to support you with whatever plan unfolds,” Traci said.

  “Thank you.”

  Trouble was, I hadn’t given any thought to what that plan might be. I liked to think I was capable of violence, but I didn’t know if I could be sure without facing the situation. What if I wasn’t capable and ended
up getting hurt again, or worse, what if I was over capable and went too far?

  But the plan could come later. First was the knowing, and I had gotten that out of the way. I was lucky I had a session with Dr. Mays this week. Or, maybe Alexander Adams was lucky. But I had to talk to her about this, even though I’d decided against it at first.

  Perhaps there was as much trauma in knowing my attacker’s identity as there was in the actual attack. Maybe I’d have to relive this moment over and over again before the information was benign.

  ’Cause right now it was pretty malignant, like a cancer set to metastasize and ravage my entire world as I and everyone else knew it.

  There was a light knock on the door and then it was opening. Hahna, of course. She looked at me and Traci with curiosity in her eyes. Then she looked at the folder in my hands and I could see even more questions forming.

  “Are y’all coming back out here? We’re just starting the conversation about dresses, and I could really use your support.”

  Traci stood first. “Yes, girl. Here we come.”

  I packed the folder away in my belongings all while Hahna watched. She wouldn’t ask, but she wanted me to tell her what it was. It wasn’t happening.

  I linked arms with Hahna and pulled her out of the room. I closed the door behind us.

  “Twila . . .”

  I shook my head at Hahna, putting a period on the sentence she’d started. “No ma’am. Don’t even ask.”

  “Why not? I won’t say anything. Is it a surprise for the wedding? I want to know.”

  That was good. I’d let her think that, because it was a much better narrative for positive Hahna than I know who my attacker is and I’m thinking of revenge.

  “It is a surprise, and since you can’t hold water, I’m not telling you.”

  “I promise I won’t say anything.”

  “Nope. Last time I asked you to keep a secret, I heard my business in the sorority group chat.”

  “That happened like one time.”

  I laughed. In college, she wasn’t just leaky, Hahna was the town crier. She might as well have entered the room yelling Hear ye, hear ye.

  “Okay, a few times, but I’m older now. Wiser.”