The Truth About Ever After (Three Girls)

by Rachel Schurig

  “I promise I’ll be good,” I said. “But just to warn you, I may or may not be crossing my fingers behind my back right now.”

  “Well, you better tell me all about it,” she said. “Seriously, Kiks, every word. Oooh!” She started to giggle. “Maybe she’s gained a bunch of weight. Wouldn’t it be amazing if she had a really giant ass?”

  I joined in her laughter. “You are terrible, Kara.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, sighing. “I just can’t help it where that witch is concerned.”

  We moved on to safer subjects then, namely Kara’s ongoing efforts to fit in with the girls in her new social circle. I didn’t know what she worried about—Kara made a great impression everywhere she went. She was gorgeous, bubbly, and sweet; what wasn’t there to like? But being new in the Big Apple had been hard on her.

  “Why don’t you just move home?” I suggested hopefully.

  On the other end of the line, Kara sighed. “Sometimes I really wish we could.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “You’re in New York! It’s one of the best cities in the world! Go to the Met, or go see a show. Better yet, go shopping and send me things!”

  Kara laughed. “You’re right, I’m just whiney today.”

  “You can whine to me anytime,” I said seriously.

  “Right back at you.”

  After we hung up I wandered around the condo for a while. It was quiet here without Eric, lonely. I wished he would hurry up at work. He had taken so much time off the week before to take care of me, I knew he was trying to make up for it now. But I still wished he would come home.

  I thought of how sweet he had been to me since the miscarriage, how concerned. He had taken such good care of me, had been putting me first ever since that day. Ever since I had found I was pregnant, actually. I should repay the favor and do something nice for Eric tonight.

  Feeling better than I had in a more than a week, I made my way to the kitchen to make dinner for my husband.

  ***

  Sarah looked exactly the way I remembered her. Shiny black hair styled in a smooth, sleek bob. Pressed and perfectly fitted designer clothes, everything a shade of pale pastel green and pink. Even her fingernails were perfect—not too long, not too short, French manicure buffed to a sheen.

  It was enough to make me want to puke.

  As she caught sight of me from across the restaurant, her expression lit up—but not before I saw a slight frown on her face as her eyes quickly appraised me. As I approached her table I felt, rather than saw, her eyes flicker down my frame. For one brief moment, I wished I had chosen something else to wear. In comparison to her cool, understated sophistication, my hot pink baby doll dress and glittery cardigan seemed completely out of place. And why had I decided to curl my hair that morning? I should have pulled it up into a sleek chignon, or something.

  Knock it off, I told myself firmly. You like your clothes and you look totally cute. Don’t let her infect you with the crazy, not before she’s even opened her mouth.

  “Kiki!” she squealed, her voice fake and grating in my ears. She stood and threw her arms around me, enveloping me in a circle of Chanel Number Five. “It’s so good to see you!”

  “You too, Sarah,” I said, hugging her back but letting go as quickly as I could. “You look as lovely as ever.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said, smiling at me modestly. Her eyes did that flicking thing again and I noted that she had no compliment for me, not even a fake one. I gritted my teeth and sat down.

  “A wedding,” I said, trying to get us onto a professional track as soon as possible. “How exciting!”

  “Isn’t it?” she said, sitting across from me and smoothing out her shirt. “I almost can’t believe it’s real.” I saw the slightest flicker of disquiet on her face, and I wondered if she felt self-conscious about something. “I mean, he waited long enough!” Her resulting laugh was twinkly and fake, and I suddenly got it. She was embarrassed not to be married yet, maybe even pissed that I had been married before her. The realization didn’t make me happy; I just felt sorry for her. She cared about the wrong things. She always had.

  “And how have you been, Kiks?” she asked. “Is wedded bliss all it’s cracked up to be?”

  I smiled at her as genuinely as I could. “Yes, we’re very happy.”

  “And what’s your husband’s name again? Sorry, dear, I always forget. Emmet, is it?”

  “Eric,” I said evenly. Which you totally know, you stupid cow, as you were at my wedding. Any chance she got to remind me that I had married beneath me, that Eric wasn’t one of us. Oh, I hated her.

  “Eric, yes, of course,” she said. “And how is he? What does he do again? Something in construction?”

  “That’s his brother,” I said, my voice sugary sweet. “He owns a construction company. Eric is an architect.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “Didn’t I hear he recently took a job with your dad’s company? Well done, dear, convincing him. Men. They do need our help, don’t they?”

  I matched her twinkling laugh with my own while my insides churned. Of course, to someone like Sarah, Eric would only be worthy if he was working for my dad. A chance that he might follow in his footsteps and make his own money someday. I had heard similar sentiments, and much more explicitly spelled out, from girls like Sarah for years. And they wondered why I didn’t hang out with the old crowd these days.

  An awkward silence descended upon us as we perused our menus. I prayed that the waiter would hurry and take our orders. Anything to get this horrible outing over with as quickly as possible.

  As if he had heard me, a friendly-looking server arrived at our table at that precise moment. “Good afternoon, ladies. Are you ready to order?”

  “Hello,” I replied pleasantly. Sarah said nothing, didn’t even look at the man. “Do you need more time, Sarah?” I asked, doing my best to sound polite.

  “House salad, dressing on the side,” Sarah said, her eyes still on the menu. “And lemon for my water.”

  No please, no thank you. What else had I expected? Sarah looked up at me and smiled conspiratorially. “I need to start watching what I eat, I suppose. I do have a wedding dress to fit into.” Her eyes moved down my torso briefly. “God, I can’t wait until I’m married so I don’t have to worry so much.” Her implication was obvious, and it made my blood pound in my ears.

  Anthrax in the wedding cake? I thought. How about I just strangle her now?

  “I’ll take a cheeseburger,” I told the server, giving him my widest smile. “With extra bacon, please. And fries. Oh, I’ll take a regular Coke as well. Thank you so much.”

  The waiter smiled back at me as he took our menus, and I thought I caught a flash of amusement in his eyes. It made me feel better, somehow.

  “So, tell me about the wedding. You guys are thinking summer?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said, her face lighting up again. “I know it’s really fast. I’d always wanted a winter wedding but Tom said he just doesn’t want to wait.” She gave a little shrug, as if to say “who could blame him,” and I fought back the urge to roll my eyes.

  “Summer is a beautiful time for a wedding. Do you have any ideas on the kind of event you’d like to have? Big, small, formal, casual?” I was merely being polite. The day Sarah Vandermark had a small, casual wedding was the day I ate my favorite pair of Jimmy Choos.

  “It will probably be quite large,” she said, equally polite. “We’ll have a good amount of family to invite, and Daddy’s work contacts, of course. Plus all of our social obligations.” She rolled her eyes a little. “You know how it goes.”

  “Of course. Well, Detroit has some wonderful venues in which to hold a larger wedding. I’m sure you’ll find something perfect.”

  “I hope we’ll find it. Together,” Sarah said. “I really hope you agree to work on this wedding, Kiki. It would mean so much to me.”

  I felt taken aback. She almost sounded… sincere. “I
would like that too, Sarah. And August looks pretty good for us, scheduling-wise. I think we should be able to make it work.”

  “Oh, wonderful!” she cried, clapping her hands together. “This will be so much fun!” Suddenly, she leaned across the table and grabbed my hand, looking conspiratorial. “Now, Kiki,” she said, in a much lower voice. “I don’t want you to feel at all weird about this, okay? You working for me, I mean. Please, please know that it doesn’t mean I look at you any differently. I’m just so happy to be able to throw some work your way.”

  I gaped at her. I almost felt like laughing. It was my own fault, letting my guard down with someone like her for even a second.

  “Well, I appreciate that, Sarah,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face. I saw a small shadow cross her face, and I wondered if she could tell that I was laughing at her. “And I’m sure Jen and I will be able to throw a beautiful wedding for you and Tom.”

  The waiter arrived then with our food and I dug into my burger immediately. It was delicious, and tasted all the better for my view of Sarah’s pathetic little salad. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about eating it, so I decided it was time to get her talking. After all, I could eat and listen at the same time.

  I wiped my hands on my napkin and leaned across the table, giving her my most bride-friendly smile as I prepared to deliver my much-used opening line. “So, Sarah,” I said warmly. “What do you see for your big day?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I could count on one hand the number of big fights Eric and I had been in since we met. Sure, we’d had our odd disagreement here and there, but actual fights had been few and far between.

  One of our very first fights was over our wedding guest list. I had been bugging him for weeks to sit down with his parents and come up with a list of people they wanted to invite, but he kept putting it off. Jen had already asked me for it twice, and I was getting embarrassed.

  “How do you not see how big a deal this is?” I had asked, standing in the middle of his apartment with my hands on my hips. Eric scratched his neck, a habit he had when he knew he was in trouble.

  “Kiki, you said it yourself, the invitations don’t need to go out for another three months.”

  “Yeah, but we need a general head count for vendors.” I sighed, exasperated. I had told him this already.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” He came over to me and put his arms around me. When my own hands stayed firmly on my hips, he nuzzled my neck. “Come on, Kiks. I said I was sorry. I’ll call my mom right now and ask her and Dad to make a list of family. Then I can add my friends and we’ll be good to go by the end of the night. Okay?”

  “Fine,” I said, giving up and putting my arms around his neck. “I just don’t like it when Jen has to ask for something more than once. She’s working so hard on our wedding, it’s not fair of us to make anything harder on her.”

  “You’re right,” he said, immediately letting me go and walking over to his phone. “I’m calling right now.”

  While his parents put together their list, Eric and I ordered pizza and talked about who he would like to invite. By the time we had finished eating we had a list of about twenty assorted people. “Hmm,” I said, looking down at it. “This isn’t very big.”

  “It’s not?’ Eric asked, looking over my shoulder. “Do you think I’m missing anyone?”

  “No,” I said, checking the names. “Not in particular. It just seems like a small number. Are you sure you invited all the work people you want? What about old friends, high school or college?”

  Eric shrugged. “Everyone I’m particularly close to is on that list.”

  I frowned again. My personal list, not including the family members and work colleagues my parents had insisted on, was currently pushing sixty people. Had I invited too many?

  “Who’s on your list?” Eric asked.

  “I’ll show you,” I said, jumping up from the couch to grab my wedding binder. It had become like my bible over the past months—I took it with me everywhere I went. It was, without a doubt, the most important book that I owned.

  “Here,” I said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Eric. “That’s my list.”

  His eyes ran down the names as he nodded slightly. Suddenly he stopped. “Sarah Vandermark?” he asked, looking up at me with a skeptical expression. “You’re inviting Sarah Vandermark?”

  “Yeah,” I said, feeling immediately uncomfortable. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Um, maybe because you hate Sarah Vandermark?”

  “Hate’s a pretty strong word,” I said, shifting on the couch. “I wouldn’t say I hated her—”

  “Come on, Kiks,” he said, not letting me off the hook. “You said the girl made your life miserable in junior high. And from what I can tell, things didn’t exactly warm up in high school or college.”

  “Eric, I’ve known Sarah for a very long time. We have a lot of history together. Her parents know my parents. She’s friends with a lot of my friends. I have to invite her.”

  “Yeah, speaking of friends,” he went on, looking back on the list. “There are a bunch of girls on here that I wouldn’t exactly call your friends.”

  “Eric,” I said, a warning note in my voice. “Can we drop this? It’s my list; I’m not going to argue with you over yours.”

  “But it’s our wedding,” he said pointedly. “You’re going to be my wife. And I’m not crazy about the idea of a bunch of people coming to our wedding who were jerks to you in school.”

  “I wouldn’t say they were jerks…”

  “Really?” he said. “So Sarah Vandermark didn’t tell everyone that your dad paid the papers to keep them from reporting his supposed affair?”

  I felt my cheeks flame. Of course Sarah had done that, and he knew it. It had been one of the worst weeks of my junior high career, all those kids coming up to me and asking if I knew who he was cheating with, and whether my mom knew. Of course, it was all made up, the whole thing a giant lie direct from Sarah. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear every day.

  “Was that before or after she told Kara she would get everyone to stop talking to her unless she ditched you?”

  I just glared at him, beyond annoyed that he was throwing these things in my face now.

  “How long did Kara go along with that? A month, was it? And these girls, Beth and Val, weren’t they in her little group? Weren’t these the girls who said you tried to pay them to be your friends?”

  “They… they did some crappy stuff in school,” I stammered, knowing my face was red. “But we all grew up. Sarah and Beth were both my sorority sisters, for God’s sake.”

  “Ah, yes, your sorority sisters,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The same ones who told your sorority that you put out and that you tried to bribe them to keep them from telling everyone about it. Such sweet sisters they were.”

  “Okay, Eric, I get it,” I said. “You think they’re bitches. You’re probably right. But I would feel bad if I didn’t invite them.”

  “Why?”

  I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Why would you feel bad? I don’t get it. You don’t like them. They treated you like crap. Why would you want them to be at your wedding, which, according to you, is like, totally the most important special day of your life?”

  Suddenly, I felt pissed at him. “Are you mocking me?” I asked, my voice quiet.

  “No,” he said, laughing. “Of course not. I’m just—”

  “And now you’re laughing?” I cried, standing up and putting my hands on my hips. “Real nice, Eric.”

  “Kiki, I’m not laughing at you.” His voice was tight and I could tell he was trying to keep ahold of his patience. I wished he wouldn’t. For some reason, I wanted to fight.

  “Sure as hell sounded like it,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

  “I just don’t get you.” He shook his head. “You’re so much better than these small little girls. So why do you want them around? Are you tryin
g to show off or something?”

  I stared at him, filled with the urge to slap him. “How dare you?” I whispered, my voice low. “Is that what you think of me? You think I’m someone who goes around trying to show off?”

  “No,” he shot back, his voice rising. “But in this particular case, I don’t know what else to think. You seem determined to surround yourself with girls who made your life miserable. I can’t help but wonder if you’re still seeking their approval—”

  “You ass—”

  “Just the way you have been since you were the new girl at school with the horribly uncool new money!” he finished triumphantly.

  “You have no idea what that was like,” I yelled. “No idea. You think everything’s so easy for me, just because I have money. Well, having money means you have to hang out with people who are jerks sometimes, okay? And it sucked! I was only thirteen when I switched schools, for God’s sake!”

  “I know that!” he yelled back. “That’s my point! They were mean to you because your family didn’t always have money. Then they were mean to you because you had more than them and they were jealous. But the point, Kiki, is that they were mean to you. So why do you still want them around?”

  “Because I hate the thought of them talking about me!” I cried. Crap. Had I said that out loud? Good job, Kiki, I thought. Way to prove his point there.

  He just stood there looking at me, a victorious expression on his face.

  “Fine, you win. I’m shallow and petty and I only want them there because I’m still afraid of them. Happy now?”

  “Of course not,” he said, his voice more calm now. “Of course that doesn’t make me happy. Kiki, you’re so much better than these stupid bitches. I just want you to see that.”

  I closed my eyes. Objectively, I did see that. It was certainly something Kara and I had told each other a thousand times since junior high. But that still didn’t change the fact that I wanted them to like me, wanted it so badly in some deep down place that I couldn’t even name.

  “Thank you for saying that, sweetie,” I finally said, opening my eyes and trying to smile at him in spite of the fact that I was still shaking mad. “You’re right. But their parents will be there because they’re friends with my parents. It seems rude to not invite them, too. So drop it, please.”