by J. J. McAvoy
“Just spit it out.”
“This is so embarrassing…”
“Guinevere, you are standing in front of me in a wedding dress. What could possibly be more embarrassing for you?”
He just had to ask.
“I can’t get it off.”
“You what?” he asked slowly.
“The wedding dress. The stupid wedding dress won’t come off, and it’s getting harder for me to breathe!” I placed a hand on my stomach. The goddamn thing was like an anaconda wrapping tighter every time I took a breath.
He covered his mouth to stifle a chuckle, but he couldn’t take it and laughed outright.
“I thought you said it wasn’t funny!”
“It wasn’t, until you told me you were stuck in it! How does that happen?”
“I gained a little weight, okay…” For some reason, the more he laughed, the better I felt. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Nodding, he came in along with Taigi and put the things he'd brought on the kitchen counter before closing the door.
I turned around, brushing my hair to the side. I jumped slightly when his hand brushed back.
“You okay?”
“Your hands were cold. I’m fine. Is it coming down?” I asked, feeling him tug harder.
“This is really stuck.” He braced a hand on my waist, trying to pull the zipper down. The dress had to be cursed because I didn't feel it getting any looser.
“Can’t you just rip it?”
“With my hands? Are you serious right now?” He paused in his attempts.
I grinned, trying to hold in my stomach. “What, you aren’t strong enough?”
“If any man can rip a wedding dress off you, please consult a physician before continuing your relationship.” His hand shifted onto my shoulder, and once again he tried. “Guinevere, I don’t know what to say to you, but this thing isn’t coming off.”
Lightheaded, I had to brace myself against the kitchen table.
“Guinevere!”
“I’m fine, just felt dizzy for a second—”
“You’re turning blue, you are not fine. Hold on.” He let go of me and reached toward my knife set, taking the scissors.
“What are you doing—”
“What does it look like? I’m cutting you out of it.”
“No—”
Ripppppp.
I took a deep breath, holding the dress up and turning around to face him. “You cut it.”
“Can you breathe now?”
I nodded, but looked back down at the gown. “You cut it,” I repeated, almost in shock.
“Didn’t you just ask me to rip it?”
“I knew you couldn’t… Thanks?” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“You're welcome.” He put the scissors back and headed to the door.
“Wait.”
“What now? Are you stuck in your bra?”
I clutched the dress back up to go to my bedroom. “I just need to ask you a few questions about the hospital real quick. Give me a minute.”
After running back into my room, I let the dress fall to the floor after I closed the door, donning jeans and a basic t-shirt before coming back out. When I did, he was already opening the bottle of wine.
“No!” I rushed out, but it was too late.
He poured both of us a glass.
“What? Did you want to drink the whole thing yourself?” His eyebrow went up and he held out the glass for me to take.
“No, Stevie’s wedding is tomorrow and I was going to give it as a gift.” I sighed, taking the glass from him.
“You didn’t think of anything else?” He followed me into my living room, taking a seat with me on the floor near the window again.
“I did, but Stevie…Stephanie now, might not like it. I was thinking of something more sophisticated, so I was going to give the wine to Nathaniel, and give her some earrings,” I said, handing him a pillow.
He placed it behind his back as he drank. “Do you mean Nathaniel Van Allan?”
“You know him?”
“New York’s elite only mingle with one another. My mother’s been ‘friends’ with Mrs. Van Allan for years. We were both invited, but she just said she would go on her own.”
The way he said friends made me wonder how he, from one of the elite families, could be so down-to-earth and relaxed. Yes, he always dressed well, and yes, he owned expensive things, but he never came off as being a snob, at least not anymore. Even in the beginning, when I’d seen him as Dr. Asshole, I still understood that he was acting that way because he was angry and hurt. He genuinely did care about others; I could see it the day I was at the hospital.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shrugged, drinking before speaking. “I was just thinking that you aren’t like them. You don’t care what other people think. Sebas—he…”
“You can say his name, Guinevere. He isn’t Voldemort.”
I giggled. “Well, Sebastian cared a lot. He wanted everything to be…high class. When I was dating him, I knew he liked finer things, and he liked to show off how well he was doing. That he wasn’t ‘just a trust fund baby’. I felt awkward and a little put on display sometimes, but the good outweighed the bad.”
Or at least, I had thought it did.
“Was he the one who picked out that dress for you?” He gazed at the city outside the window.
“How did you—”
“A tight, sparkling-with-crystals wedding dress does not seem to fit your style at all.”
Even though I agreed he was right, I was a little annoyed. “He didn’t really pick it out. He knew the owner of the bridal store I went into and had them bring out the very best and most expensive dresses. We had gone to other weddings before, and I knew which dresses he thought were ugly. I tried to pick one I knew he would like…wow, that sounds awful. But I can be girly, too.”
“Never said you couldn’t. It isn’t awful, just meant you really wanted to look nice for him. There isn’t anything wrong with that.”
“I’m glad you cut me out of it.” I smiled into the glass. “I would have held onto it like it meant something. I should have thrown it out weeks ago, or at least sold it to someone else, but with Stevie’s wedding tomorrow, I just…I don’t know. I just wanted to wear it one more time.” I was sure there was someone out there that would have fallen in love with it.
“The answer to your non-question about me not being like them is: my father,” he replied.
It took me a second to remember where the conversation had started.
“I don’t care what they think because they don’t matter to me. When my father died, I learned how superficial a lot of them were. Sure, they came to the funeral, held my mom's hand and whatnot, but I remember someone asking, Who is he again? What did he do? Where did he live? A few months later, some of the wives even tried to set my mother up. I guess to them, she should have moved on already. I just…I just wanted to hear stories of my father from them. Things they remembered as friends. But then I realized they never did anything more than go to the same parties. It was only the patients he helped that talked on and on about him. I think that’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor so badly.”
“If your father saw you…” I started.
He turned to face me.
“If he saw you the way I did when I came to the hospital, I bet he would be more than proud. For a second, even I was like, 'Wow, so this is what he does every day.' I thought I wanted to do it, too. This coming from the girl who failed chemistry three ways to Sunday.”
He snickered. “Really? I thought I was only 'kinda cool'.”
“I scratched it out, didn’t I?” Damn note.
He laughed, and so did I.
“So, your father was a surgeon. Your mother is a surgeon and chairwoman of the hospital. You are a surgeon, and your brother’s working on becoming one, too. I’m almost too intimidated.”
He raised his head high.
> I rolled my eyes.
“What do your parents do?”
“My mother teaches African American & African Studies and history at the University of Alaska. She immigrated to California from south Africa when she was four and worked her way up the coast.”
“And your father?”
“My father is an astronomer. He teaches at the university, too, but during campouts and bonfires, he becomes the chief Native American storyteller. He's half Iñupiat, half English. So technically I’m part Native American, English, and South African.”
He nodded his head, thinking for a moment. “I always tried to trace where our family came from, but as far as I can tell we’ve been in America for generations. I suddenly feel the urge to look into it more.”
“You should.”
“So both of your parents are scholars and you're the artist…the rebel. You don’t have siblings?”
I wished he hadn’t asked that. Spinning the glass in my hands, I drank the rest of it before answering. “Not anymore.”
Thankfully, he didn’t pry.
Eli
Taking off my shoes when I got back into my apartment, I fell back on my couch. I couldn't stop wondering…I wanted to know more, but I knew I couldn’t press, not when she was trying so hard to smile about something that was obviously hard. I was starting to realize she had two smiles: her genuine one she gave when she really was happy, and then the other one, her shield. If she felt hurt or upset, she smiled and tried to push it away.
She looked beautiful in that wedding dress—what am I thinking?
“Obviously, I had too much wine,” I muttered to myself.
“Where?”
Sitting up quickly, I watched my little brother come out of my bedroom wearing my shirt, even though the sleeves were too long.
He just rolled them up his arms.
“What are you doing here, and why are you wearing my shirt?”
“I spilled beer on mine,” he replied, walking into my kitchen and grabbing my last beer. “You should get more of these.”
“First question, you still haven’t answered it.”
“Mom’s having the Van Allans over. You know I hate those people.” He pushed my feet to the side and took a seat on the couch.
I hit him upside the head with a pillow.
“Hey!”
“Have you thought about getting your own place?”
He looked at me like I had lost it. “And leave Mom all alone in the house? Aren’t you the one who told me to take my time leaving? Plus, I like it there.”
Saying nothing, I shifted, placing my feet on the coffee table instead.
“So why were you drinking Dad’s wine? You usually save that for special occasions.” He lifted his legs up as well.
“Guinevere needed a bottle for the Van Allan wedding tomorrow. Apparently, she’s friends with Nathaniel’s bride. But we ended up drinking together, again.” I took the controller, turning on the television.
He kept staring at me.
“What?”
“I’m just processing.”
“You do that,” I muttered, leaning back.
“Okay, so you drink Dad’s wine with someone outside of the family not once, but twice? What is this thing I see between you two?”
“Friendship, that’s it. The first time I was a jerk and trying to apologize, this time she asked. I thought it was the least I could do after she bought me shoes—”
“She bought you shoes? Eli, come on, don’t lie—”
“We are just friends. We don’t see each other in any other way than that. It would be odd if we did. We are the only two people who understand what it feels like, so we talk. Get your head out of the gutter.”
He pursed his lips, drinking slowly.
“I mean it, Logan.”
“I didn’t say anything. I was just thinking how, when I was trying to be friends with her, you told her to stay away from me—”
“Just watch TV and shut up.”
He did, but only for about two minutes. “So…does that mean you’re coming to the wedding? She is going to be there.”
“No. Why would her being there matter to me?”
He shrugged. “I mean, you aren’t going because it will bring up memories, but she has to go. It sucks that she’s going to have to go through that alone.”
“She’s a big girl, Logan, but if makes you feel better, you can dance with her if you'd like.”
I am not going.
Chapter Eleven
Something New and Old
Guinevere
Bridesmaids dresses were supposed to be ugly.
Yet the dress I wore—and had spent almost a thousand dollars on—was probably better than any of the dresses I owned. The elegant one-shoulder red dress made me feel classy. Stevie had even picked out jewelry and shoes she suggested to go along with it. Yes, it was expensive—well, to me it was—but I had taken what Eli had said to heart and decided to splurge this time around. My longtime friend was getting married, she wanted her day, and if she wanted her girls to look as close to human perfection as possible, then fine. I would get my hair, makeup, and nails professionally done, and I couldn’t even lie about it not being fun. I felt a like a Barbie, but in a good way.
I walked into the waiting room looking for the rest of her bridesmaids, and when the four of them looked to me, their mouths—well, all except for Josephine—turned up in the widest grins, so I took it as a good sign.
“Gwen, you look amazing!” One of the women gasped, coming up to me. “From now on, just walk around in red. It is definitely your color.”
“Thank you. I was trying my best.” I laughed.
“Ladies.” Josephine stepped up. “Stephanie will be coming out any second. Let’s remember it’s her day.”
Their smiles dropped, and they took a step away.
I wanted to ask Josephine what I had done to make her so angry with me, but then again, I remembered that after that day I was never going to see her again, so I really didn’t care.
“Ladies.” Stevie’s mother came out of the dressing room, holding the doors closed behind her with a smile so wide it could crack her face. “May I present to you, the future Mrs. Van Allan!” She pushed open the doors.
Stevie turned to us, and in my head it was like she did it in slow motion with romantic music and lighting, that’s how beautiful she looked. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun with a red rose in it, and she wore the best princess wedding gown I had ever seen, with little lace and sparkle accents.
“Gwen?” she called out to me.
I realized I was the only one who hadn’t moved close. “I’m sorry, I’m just in awe right now. You look so beautiful, Stevie.” I finally walked up to her. “So beautiful I’m going to cry.”
“Don’t cry! If you cry, I'll cry.” She laughed, hugging me.
“Oh, and we can’t have that.” Stevie’s mom came up, giving me a small hug as well. “We are already running late. Hurry girls.”
Eli
Why am I here?
No, honestly. Why?
Ever since I had entered the hotel, I kept wondering, why?
Logan grinned beside me like he knew something I didn’t, and my mother was proud because I wasn’t afraid of a wedding…which, as a grown man, should not have been that surprising, but whatever. For some reason, that afternoon I had put on the best suit I owned, polished my shoes, and combed my hair…like I was going to prom. Nevertheless, I was there, at Nathaniel and Stephanie’s wedding, sitting on his side as everyone chatted about how wonderful the wedding hall was. In my mind, not only was the place annoying because the air smelled like one too many damn roses, but it also looked pretty modest in comparison to a lot of the things Hannah had done for ours.
“Oh, don’t they look nice?” My mother smiled at Nathaniel as he and his groomsmen walked in, taking their place at the front under the arch of white and red roses.
“I guess. With those tails, they look like stuff
ed penguins,” I muttered.
She elbowed me. “If you were going to be sour, why did you come?”
Good question.
“He wants to see someone,” Logan whispered.
Reaching behind my mother, I smacked him on the back of the head. Bad answer.
“You are both grown men, can you act like it, please?” She smacked both of our legs. “Lord in Heaven, help me.”
“Sorry,” we both said, though I still glared. He kept trying to tell me something was going on between Guinevere and me, and in all honesty, it wasn’t. I thought of her as a friend, nothing more, nothing less.
“Oh my god, is that Gwen?” my mother whispered when we all stood up at the sound of the music.
“Can’t be,” I said to myself, watching the person come forward. The Guinevere I knew wore little to no makeup ever, her brown hair was always down or to the side and she didn’t think that much about it, and she barely ever wore jewelry other than her feather earring cuff…which was on that woman's ear.
“It’s her,” I whispered. Just a dolled up version of her.
“She looks amazing,” my mother said as she walked right by us.
“Yeah.” For some reason, trying to think about it made my head hurt.
“The bride is that way.” Logan snickered behind me, and I knew he meant for me to stop looking at Guinevere.
We are just friends. And what kind of friend would one be if they didn’t think their pal had the ability to be attractive sometimes? She looked nice, and there was nothing wrong with saying it or thinking it. I noticed Logan had switched places with my mother to do what all little brothers are born to do: annoy the hell out of me. But, I cut him off before he could say anything. “People like you are the reason why men and women can’t just be friends without anything else going on. She looks nice. You’re thinking it too. What is the big deal?”
He said nothing.
I smirked.
“I was just going to ask if you had gum,” he whispered with a smile.
Trying my best to ignore him, I looked up front. For some reason, most likely because I didn’t know Nathaniel or Stephanie that well, my eyes kept drifting to the only person I did know, standing up front in red. She didn’t look fazed at all, just smiled a small, real smile for her friend. When her eyes shifted and looked out over the crowd, she finally noticed me. Her smile grew, taking up her whole face.
