by J K Ashley
I sit in the chair at my desk and stare at the door for a moment, losing myself in thought. I can still feel her presence in the room, and every so often I catch remnants of the perfume she was wearing still drifting in the air.
I wasn’t always a “love” guy. Growing up I detested the thought of love, and I couldn’t tell you why. I suppose it was just a typical teenage guy thing, not wanting to be tied down by what I perceived as a needy, desperate girl looking for love. I was harsh and judgmental, back then.
I flip-flopped through various relationships, most of them short and rushed with no real feelings or importance attached to them. Thinking back to that time brings a flurry of faces to mind, all the girls I once called mine but didn’t want to be mine. I can’t even remember half their names, and for that I’m ashamed.
There were a couple long-term girls sprinkled throughout the nameless faces. Joanna, from college. We dated during my sophomore and junior years, before ending on a very messy note when she found me making out with another girl at a party. Not my finest hour.
After her was a girl named Lisa who I dated following graduation. Both of our careers got in the way and we ended up going our separate ways, on reasonably good terms.
And then I didn’t date anyone for a very long time. I buckled down and I focused on my career, putting the blinders on and not letting a single girl catch my eye and distract me. But then Rachael came along and I was powerless against her.
It all sounds so cheesy when I lay it out like that. But it’s the truth.
I shake myself from my reverie, a grin still plastered across my face. I fish my phone off the desk and call my mother. After a few rings she picks up.
“Rachael said yes, we’ll come by around 7:30.”
Chapter Two
Rachael
That evening, we arrive at James’ parents’ house at 7:27 P.M.
I’ve always been neurotic when it comes to time. I hate being late. When James and I first started dating, he was impossibly late to everything. It drove me wild, and after a while I had to sit him down and give him a talking to. After that he got better, though he still needs a little prodding when it comes to getting ready and getting on the road.
His parents have a nice home in a quiet, suburban neighbourhood. Their front lawn is always perfectly manicured, with cute little shrubs and flowers along the front of the house and a little path of stones leading up to the front door. We pass by some small lawn figurines as we approach the front step.
James doesn’t bother to ring the doorbell, but rather pushes it open and calls out to his parents as we enter the house. I can hear chatter in the other room, which surprises me. James didn’t mention any other guests. His mother talks a mile a minute but his father is a very quiet and stoic man, so I doubt it’s them making conversation.
The voices sound familiar.
We walk into the dining room, which has already been fully set. A bowl of salad, a basket of bread, and big pot of soup are arranged on the table, for the start of the meal. James’ mother is all about multiple courses, so I know she’ll be bringing some more out later.
“Mom?” I say in surprise. “Dad?”
Sure enough, my parents are already sitting at the table, talking animatedly with James’ mother. His father is nowhere in sight, likely sitting in front of the TV in the other room.
“Honey!” my mother exclaims, beaming. She gets up and bustles over, embracing me in a hug.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, confused.
“Fiona invited us over!” she gushes, smiling at James’ mother over my shoulder. “Wasn’t that so nice of her?”
“Yeah, great,” I say. My heart is thumping quickly in my chest. I wasn’t expecting them to be here. I’ve only seen our parents interact together a handful of times, and it still makes me nervous. I just want them to like each other.
“I’m just going to go outside for a breath of fresh air,” I say awkwardly, trying my best to smile and look pleasant. Fiona waves me off and my father watches me curiously, but no one stops me as I slip out the back door and into the backyard.
The backyard is just as cute as the front. Fiona has a little bench set up beneath a shady tree, and I stroll over to sit in it. The night is warm, thank goodness, because I didn’t bring a sweater. A motion light flickers on as I near the bench.
I’ve only been sitting for a minute or two when the backdoor slides open. I know who it is without even having to look. James has come to seek me out, to make sure I’m alright.
I stare up at the twinkling stars, listening to the soft sounds his feet make as he pads across the lawn. I don’t look at him until he’s right beside me, settling onto the bench as well.
“Everything alright?” James whispers, leaning close to me.
I look at him and smile, genuinely. He always worries too much, though I do love that about him. I nod without a word, before pressing my lips close together. This isn’t something I need to confide in James about. It’s just a passing anxiety, one I can handle just fine on my own.
“Are you sure?” He puts an arm around me, rubbing my side even though I’m not cold. I lean into him, feeling the way his muscles bunch beneath his shirt. “You seem a little nervous.”
“Really, I’m fine,” I say, turning my head to look at him. I slip my arms around his torso and hug him close to me with my much smaller arms, loving the warmth of his body against my skin. “I just wanted to sit outside, really. But thanks for checking on me. I appreciate it.”
“You know I always have to see how my girl’s doing,” James says, throwing a devilish smirk my way. I laugh. “But, really. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on in that head of yours. Don’t want you getting cold feet now that we’ve got wedding plans underway.”
I roll my eyes, scoffing. “Me? Cold feet? Absolutely not.” I hug him even tighter. “Trust me, we’re perfectly fine. I’d let you know if we weren’t.”
We sit like this for a few more minutes, before James gets to his feet and tugs me up behind him. We walk back into the house, hand in hand, and delve into his mother’s delicious food.
She has always been an amazing cook. My mom was never a huge chef. She loved to bake, but we couldn’t be eating sweets all the time. My dad took over the cooking aspect of things quite early in their relationship, and so he was always the one to put food on the table. It was good, but not amazing. Fiona’s food, on the other hand, is amazing.
Dinner flies by. As I suspected, my worries melt away. Before I know it, all the food is gone and our parents are yawning and talking about how much they need to crawl into bed. I can’t help but agree with them, so I give James a pointed look and we start saying our goodbyes.
I nearly fall asleep on the drive home. I blink my eyes open as we’re pulling into our driveway. I did end up dozing off after all. I look down into my lap and see that the screen of my phone is glowing faintly. I have a voicemail.
“You go ahead inside,” I say to James, smiling at him reassuringly. “I just need to listen to something.”
James nods and tromps inside, looking bleary-eyed and tired. I settle back in my seat, and the voice of an old friend plays in my ear.
“Hey, Rachael! It’s Lucy. Long time no talk! When did we last see each other, like a year ago? We really need to get together. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that a class reunion is coming up next week. I’m sure you’ve heard about it already, but I’d love for you to come! I put it together with some of the girls. So yeah, let me know if you’re coming, I’d love to see your pretty face! See you, girl.”
I sit in the car for a moment before lowering the phone, the screen darkening once more. A class reunion, I hadn’t been to one of those in ages. So many people I’d forgotten about, so many faces to see again . . . my stomach clenches. There are some faces I’d like to never see again.
I get out of the car, feeling shaky on my legs, and head inside. James is sitting on the couch waiting for me.
“What was that about?” he asks with a yawn.
“Lucy called,” I say, my voice sounding more high-pitched than normal. But James doesn’t seem to notice anything. “There’s a class reunion next week.”
James raises a brow, looking me over. “You don’t look over thrilled about it.”
“I don’t think I’m going to go,” I admit sheepishly, my cheeks flooding with heat. “Why would I want to see all those people again? I haven’t spoken to any of them in years.”
“Oh, c’mon, Rachael,” James says. He beckons to me and I walk closer, falling into his lap as he takes hold of my arm and pulls me down towards him. I sit there and he wraps his arms around me, breathing softly against the skin of my neck. “Don’t be so negative. You always do this and I’m sure it would be a blast, you just gotta stop over thinking it.”
Of course, James doesn’t know why I dread seeing all the people from high school. But I don’t feel like elaborating, so I nod my head wearily.
“I guess so but I’m still not sure, it just doesn’t seem worth it.”
“Reunions are the best time to catch up with old friends,” James insists. “Trust me, you’ll see some old faces and suddenly realize how much you’ve missed them.”
I don’t say anything, and eventually we get up and make our way to the bedroom. We each change into our pyjamas and settle into bed beneath the sheets, cuddling up close to one another. Within moments, James’ breathing settles into the slow rhythm of sleep. I see the covers move up and down softly with his chest, and I am left alone with my thoughts.
I don’t want to bring up old memories, and that’s exactly what going to this reunion will do to me. I want nothing to do with my past, let alone that part of my past. I don’t have a connection with anyone from back then, save from the random person like Lucy that I see every so often. I purposefully put that all behind me and moved on with my life, and the thought of opening that can of worms up again makes me wants to be sick.
But maybe I am just overreacting? I’ve always been an anxious person, letting my fears and worries get the best of me. That’s how James and I have always differed. I’m constantly coming up with terrible scenarios in my head, talking myself out of things because this or that could go wrong. That sort of mentality held me back for a long time, especially when I was younger, and for a while I had trouble doing even the simplest things, like making friends and taking even the most minor of risks.
James, on the other hand, is brimming with positivity. He sees everything as an opportunity for growth and almost never backs out of things. To him, anxiety is a foreign concept. He’s never been able to understand why I’m so doubtful about everything, and I stopped trying to explain myself to him a long time ago. And tonight, is just like all the other situations, in which I see everything that can go wrong and he sees nothing.
Perhaps he’s right? He’s been right before, urging me to do something that I later enjoyed and realized wasn’t so bad. But this feels different than that. I’m not overreacting. I know who I’ll see at this reunion and I want nothing to do with it. James doesn’t have that perspective he doesn’t know what will happen.
But I can’t run from it forever. I can’t keep making excuses for years, never showing my face at a reunion.
I bury my face in James’ chest and breathe deeply, trying to quell the nerves still coiling in my stomach.
The next morning dawns bright and early. In our tired haste, we forgot to close the blinds before crawling into bed, and so the sunlight streams in blindingly. Birds chirp outside obnoxiously and I roll over, slamming a pillow over my ears. Moments later I feel James trailing a finger down my spine.
“Wake up,” he whispers.
I sigh and relinquish the pillow, letting him tug it from my fingers. A few moments later I get out of bed and start going through the daily motions: brushing my teeth, doing my hair, dabbing on the smallest amount of makeup, slapping on some office clothes. James does the same, except much faster.
We carpool to work, something that we ended up working out a few months ago. We figure, what’s the point of taking two separate cars to the same place? After all, it’s good to be eco-friendly.
Once we reach work we part ways. We don’t ever work together, being from two very different parts of the office. Don’t get me wrong, I love James—but it’s nice to get some time to yourself for a while, especially when you live with the person. Sometimes I feel like I’m around James so often that we become one functioning person. It’s nice to reclaim my own identity for a while, and function solitary.
The work day flies by. I enjoy my job, so it doesn’t seem like a chore. There are bad days, of course, but they’re few and far between. Once 5 o’clock hits I make my way to James’ office, only to find him buried in paperwork.
This is the one bad thing about carpooling. Every so often one of gets stuck at work longer than usual, and then we have a dilemma. I’ve started going to the nearby coffee shop when this happens, and James will swing by to pick me up whenever he finishes his work.
I kiss James on the cheek and set off down the street. It’s just a five-minute walk away, and I like to get in some cardio. The shop itself is very quaint and cute, with a rustic, homey feel. I’m waiting in line when I hear a familiar voice squeal behind me.
“Rachael? Is that you? What a coincidence!”
My heart drops, but I turn around with a forced smile plastered across my face. Standing just a few feet behind me is Lucy herself, in the flesh. I never got back to her about her voicemail.
“Hey, Lucy!” I say enthusiastically, cringing inside at how fake and chipper my voice sounds. Lucy’s a nice girl, she’s just not the person I want to run into today.
“How’ve you been?” she comes up to stand beside me in line, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “This is so strange, I just called you yesterday. Did you get my voicemail?”
“I did,” I say, still smiling. “I got it late last night though, so I didn’t want to call you and risk waking you up! Then it slipped my mind today. You know, work.”
She nods seriously. “Oh, trust me, I know! Feels like I don’t have a second of downtime anymore. Are you gonna find some room in your schedule to come to the reunion?”
“Oh—“ I don’t know what to say, suddenly panicking. I’ve never been good at thinking on my feet. “When is it, again? I haven’t yet looked at my schedule. James and I are pretty busy with wedding plans right now.”
“What’s today, Friday?” Lucy asks, whipping out her phone to confirm. “Why, it’s in just two days! I thought it was farther out than that. It’s on Sunday, at 2 P.M.”
I nod, peering up at the coffee shop’s menu and using that as an excuse not to say anything. I wrack my brain but it appears every reasonable thought I’ve ever had has just fallen out of my head.
“Oh, you aren’t fooling me,” Lucy chuckles, slapping me on the arm lightly. “I know you’re nervous. You’ve always been an anxious girl. Trust me, Rach, you don’t have a thing to worry about.”
I look at her, feeling my cheeks heat up. “You think so?”
“I know so,” she insists. “This reunion’s going to be a blast, you mark my words. You’ll have tons of fun. What could go wrong, hmm?”
I laugh along with Lucy and assure her that she’s right, smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt.
Chapter Three
I wake up the next morning before the sun has even risen. There’s a tiny bit of grey light filtering in through the window, creating long shadows across the bedroom. James lies next to me, unmoving and breathing heavily.
Today’s a special day. For a while I don’t even think of the impending reunion tomorrow, though it does eventually crash into my memory. I shake it away. Today’s not a day for worries. Today is a day for wedding dresses.
At approximately 9 A.M., after I’ve been sitting awake on my couch and ready for an hour already, I hear a beep from out front. James still hasn’t made an appear
ance and I haven’t bothered him, not wanting to disturb his slumber. He works hard during the week, and oftentimes Saturdays are his days to relax.
I rush outside, smiling my first genuine smile in a while at a lovely little lady sitting behind the steering wheel of the car waiting in my driveway. I slide into the passenger seat and she immediately starts backing up, before I’ve even gotten my seatbelt on.
“How’s the bride doing?” she asks, shooting me a sideways grin as we head to the bridal shop. “Ready to squeeze yourself into some white lace?”
“Shut up, Carly,” I laugh. “You make it sound like a chore.”
“Would be a chore for me,” she grumbles under her breath. “But to each their own, I guess.”
“This is why, I’m the one getting married,” I tease at her.
Carly’s my best friend. We met in college and have been inseparable ever since. We’re very different in terms of personality, but that’s never stopped us from being close. And, naturally, she’s my maid of honour.
We get to the bridal shower and I’m engulfed in a flurry of activity. They put one dress on me, I come out and spin in front of the mirror a few times, and then they send me back. Carly has little comments every time, sometimes good and sometimes bad. She’s a very blunt person, therefore she’s the perfect candidate to have around at a time like this. I need to look my best on my wedding day.
Nearly two hours pass before I’m even aware of the time, but thankfully by then I’ve made my pick. I find the perfect white address, complete with glittering jewels, a long and flowing train, and a sheet veil. I look over at Carly while I’m wearing it and see her wipe a tear from the corner of her eye—she never cries.
I spend the rest of the day with Carly, just relaxing and spending some time together. We end up back at her apartment watching movies and eating popcorn, and around dinnertime I give her a goodbye hug and meet James out front, where he’s waiting for me in the car.
We’re having a romantic dinner tonight. It’s fitting, considering I picked out my wedding dress today. I know he wants to know a million things about it but that’s off-limits.
