Remake

by A. J. Sand

  Our Forever – Chapter 4

  “You ordered already? Really?” Erica said with a laugh as she slid into the booth seat opposite her sister in Maggiano’s Little Italy. Naomi was obviously still pissed at her. Erica turned a puzzled glance to the plate in front of her. “And, by the way, you don’t come to Maggiano’s and order the salad.” It was completely bare, with neither a color besides green nor a sprinkling of dressing. With meticulous effort, Naomi had picked out the pieces of everything else and piled them on an appetizer plate. Erica scoffed and scanned the menu. It was probably counterproductive after her rigorous kickboxing workout, but she was craving a giant plate of spaghetti drenched in pasta sauce.

  “I do if I want to fit into my wedding dress by fall!” Naomi said, impaling a pile of lettuce with her fork before she forced it into her mouth and chewed with distaste. Her attention was divided between eating and clicking away on her iPad. Probably that ridiculous wedding app she likes so much. The one with the animated wedding dresses dancing across the screen, which eventually spelled out the letters of her name.

  “Or you could’ve actually used your real measurements and not your goal ones, and a little bit of vinaigrette isn’t going to tip the scales, babe.” Erica bopped her sister on the head with her laminated menu.

  “Oh, whatever. You’re mostly dad’s genes. I bet there are just gangs of skinny bitches on his side of the family,” Naomi mumbled before attempting to literally stomach another bite of her bland salad, followed by seconds of looking like she would hurl it back up. She did this several more times, and it was almost comical to watch. “No dressing, sweets or white foods for me until the reception.”

  And true to her word, the basket of bread still lay covered in the center of the table. “You’re missing out,” Erica said, plucking out one of the pieces. A waiter looked over, she signaled for him, and she placed an order for fettuccini alfredo.

  “Well, if I break my diet before then, surviving Lady Van Der Bitch is a workout all on its own. Last night at dinner, at a table full of people I didn’t know, but who are probably equally as rich bitch as she is, she goes, ‘Don’t you want to use the salad fork, Nigh-own-mi, it’s right there.’ She used hers to point it out to me. I think someone giggled or something. And then it was all snob, snob this…condescension that. I was humiliated. I wanted to say, ‘Actually, a salad fork is whichever fucking one I pick up first, you plastic bitch.’” Naomi’s eyes glistened over with tears as she chomped down on her fork, making another face of disgust—either from the dry salad or the story, Erica couldn’t really tell. “Hayden was so angry, he just picked up his dinner fork and started eating his salad with it, too.”

  Erica reached over and rubbed her sister’s arm in a comforting gesture. She hated seeing Naomi suffer through what was supposed to be a time for celebration in her life. She had lucked out with the Ellises because Bryson’s parents were the most amicable people she had ever met. And every moment she had spent with them made her fall in love with him a little more. Even when she and Bryson had tested out their elopement idea with hypotheticals before telling them it was really their plan, they had been ready with the gift of all expenses paid. Sue had only insisted on one condition: a huge (catered) backyard barbeque when they returned. It was almost physically painful to imagine how unsalvageable that relationship might be now.

  “Did his salad have dressing on it?” she asked, trying to get Naomi to laugh.

  “Lots. Which only made me more depressed. I was so damn hungry,” she said with a stale chuckle as she wiped her tears away on a cloth napkin. “I mean God forbid growing up we were too worried about actually just having food to eat rather than what to eat it with.” Erica switched to Naomi’s side of the table and leaned her sister’s head down to her shoulder.

  “Remember how badly we used to want to prove ourselves to that crowd? Like when I got my first big check from modeling, and we went and got the most expensive things we could at Katsuya?” Erica asked, still trying to put her sister in a better mood.

  Naomi nodded. “We spent, like, half the check that night… And here I am, all these years later, still having to prove I am. Every time she overhears me and Hayd talking about something wedding-related, and I mention an idea for the reception, she just clears her throat really loudly without saying anything, like they’re all dumb. I guess she thinks everyone will be licking barbeque sauce off their fingers with the radio playing in the background instead of using salad forks and listening to a band. It’s like I’m in some high-society Hunger Games and she’s just waiting for me to kill myself off. Sometimes I think I’m making a huge mistake.” Her shoulders shook slightly as she cried. “Am I going to have to deal with this the rest of my life? And what if we have kids? Will they be good enough, finally?”

  “Don’t think like that. Hayden loves you, so none of that matters. He knows that you’re going to be his family and he’s putting you first. He’s going to protect you from all of it.” She felt like a major hypocrite, telling her sister to trust her fiancé when she hadn’t done the same with hers, but Naomi was too distraught to make the connection.

  As the words settled on her, Naomi nodded against Erica’s shoulder, sniffling. She sat up, looking determined not to cry anymore, and she patted her cheeks with her palms. “I’m just so worried about the engagement party.”

  “What’s there to worry about, Mimi? We’ve checked everything off that list of yours. I sent the invitations out, and I’ve gotten the RSVPs. I even followed up on your slacker friends who didn’t respond by the deadline. The garden party is perfect. It suits you more than that formal, fluffy, highfaluting one she wanted. It’ll be fine, okay?”

  Naomi wiped her eyes again. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this wedding stuff, E…”

  “I’m your maid of honor, you dork,” Erica said as she tucked Naomi’s hair behind her ear. She was being intentionally oblivious, but she knew what Naomi was alluding to.

  “No, sometimes I feel like I’m being unfair to you. Throwing this ginormous wedding…and you were gonna be first…”

  “This is your time! And yours would still be ginormous because Bryce and I had other plans,” Erica said to quiet Naomi’s worries, and to keep any of her own sad thoughts about what could have been from forming. Except two did anyway. She had found a dress. And they had both been learning how to waltz, because even if they had been the only ones at the actual ceremony, they wanted to dance with each other to “Red House” by Jimi Hendrix, the only song they had both agreed on. Erica was soon fighting back her own tears. “And I’m your sister. It’s what we do for each other. Even if we hate it most of the time.” She dodged Naomi’s swinging arm by diving back into the opposite side of the booth as the waiter arrived with the food.

  “Okay, but I want to talk about you.” She leaned away from the table, eyeing Erica’s food with a level of pining usually reserved for romance. “Tell me about Matt.” Naomi’s nose twitched and then she scrunched it completely like she had gotten a whiff of something pungent. They had way too many of the same mannerisms.

  “Stop it.” Then Erica shrugged as she wound her fork in the spaghetti. “We met in yoga—”

  “Yoga?” Naomi’s stare was still fastened to the plate. “Laaaaame.”

  “Okay, so you don’t want to know more,” Erica said with a roll of her eyes. “And there’s something I need to ask you about, anyway.” Chase’s hurtful words from the night before were still bothering her. “Do you remember me ever dressing up as a she-devil or French maid?”

  Naomi’s brow creased in thought. “Yeah! But that was ages ago at those crazy Halloween parties you never go to anymore. My New Year’s resolution this year was to finally make all those pictures really, really private on Facebook, so only a few of our friends could see them. The last thing I need is Hayden’s mom having another reason to hate me. I’ll probably take them down completely when I’m an old married lady. Why?”

  Erica shook her head abse
ntly. Facebook. That’s where Chase had seen the pictures. How had she never remembered to sever their friendship there? It seemed improbable, but she’d have to fix that the minute she got back home instead of doing it now and sparking Naomi’s suspicions. And concerns. “No reason. Eat, please, because I won’t carry you if you pass out later.” Erica shoved her fork toward Naomi, and without even an attempt at feigned reluctance, Naomi leaned forward. When Naomi opened her mouth, Erica swirled the fork around until her sister got irritated and grabbed it.

  “Hey! Tell me about Matt. I’ll be good. Tell me what you’re doing with him in general. I hope you’re not doing sex with him. You’re not, right?” Naomi said with her mouth full as she handed the fork back to Erica. “Just a distraction, right? Don’t get me wrong, though, he’s a hot distraction….”

  “Geez, Naomi, you can put down your Bryson pom-poms. I’m not jumping into anything, okay? It’s just…” She trailed off as she tried to find a way to circumvent telling her the specifics of the yoga class, unwilling to expose him. Right now, it was their thing. Shit. We already have a thing?

  But Naomi was too impatient for the completion of the sentence. “Was last night that bad with Bryson?” Naomi frowned, looking remorseful. “You swore to me things were weird, but they were okay. Hayden and I felt like shit after you left.”

  “No, they weren’t bad,” Erica said, the raised pitch of her voice an instant betrayal. Unwilling to meet her sister’s eyes, she lazily swirled her fork in a pile of pasta. I wish I knew how to hate you or whatever he had said last night pulsed through her thoughts. “He got me a PR client at the party, and I’m really excited about them. I’m pretty sure I can get them a gig at Luz in a few weeks and pack the place. Speaking of my clients, I’m thinking about getting some shared office space, and I was hoping—”

  “Don’t change the subject, E.” She summoned the fork. “Matt’s cute, by the way. He’s no Bryson, but he’s cute. I think he has a crush on you.” She only twitched her nose this time, no scrunching.

  “You don’t think anyone’s Bryson, Naomi.” And that’s because no one is. Erica knew that more than anyone.

  “I’ll support you in whatever you want to do with your dating life, and if that means having to accept a new guy…” The words were stiff in sound, but she ended on a genuine smile, and clutched Erica’s free hand. There was more. Much more. The unspoken things. Erica could almost read them as though the sentences were scrolling across her sister’s face. Tell Bryson what happened and deal with him before you make any decisions.

  Squeezing Naomi’s hand in return, she replied, “We’re just friends…getting to be friends. I swear it.” She jutted her chin out at the iPad, not wanting to discuss what she hadn’t actually figured out yet. “What exactly are we doing today?”

  Naomi beamed as she referred back to her iPad, and after a few clicks, she said, “Oh! You’ll love this. We’re meeting the potential entertainment for the reception. Just two musicians today and then checking out videographers and photographers.” With rapid-fire claps, she shrieked in delight. “Okay, I need to freshen up. Most of my makeup is now on a Maggiano’s napkin.” Naomi scooted out of the booth just as her purse rumbled against the plastic seat cushion. “Can you get that? But only respond if it’s Hayd, okay? And tell him it’s you right away.”

  “Why? Afraid he might start sexting you? I’ve always wondered if there was a dirty talker under all that prep…”

  Naomi looked over her shoulder and laughed, her cheeks glowing. “Um, I hope you haven’t been wondering. And Hayden doesn’t sext…he sends poetry, actually.”

  “Laaaaame.” Erica pulled Naomi’s cell out of her purse, nearly dropping it when she saw the text from Bryson waiting. She was sort of envious that they were still so chummy, but she was also glad that he wasn’t holding any resentment meant for her against Naomi. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though.

  Bryson: Hey. Need to confirm that you and Hayden are coming to the party.

  “What party?” Erica absently asked out loud.

  Naomi: Sure! Count us in!

  Bryson: Did you talk to Erica about it yet?

  Naomi: No. Apparently. I haven’t! I will. Later!

  Bryson: Why not? Because of last night? She told you what I said? She hadn’t. Oh fuck. She flung the cell into Naomi’s purse and tossed them both to Naomi’s side of the table. But a powerful urge to keep talking to him bested her good judgment to end the conversation, especially when the purse emitted a vibration again.

  Bryson: Naomi?

  Naomi should’ve just said again she would talk to him later, but because the opportunity for her was there, she gave in to her compulsion. Erica glanced back at the women’s bathroom and she prayed Naomi would remain in there a little longer.

  Naomi: Yup. Really harsh. You really think she ruined you? You want to

  hate her?

  Bryson: Yeah

  Bryson: Shit. No.

  Bryson: Kinda

  Bryson: It just hurt to be near her.

  Bryson: E was my life.

  Erica took in a sharp breath. The last text message wasn’t even on the screen a few seconds before it disappeared, but she couldn’t unsee it, and the words were already sinking into her blood. Erica sighed.

  Bryson: I should apologize.

  Naomi: I shouldn’t have asked you for details. I’m sorry.

  She stopped herself from typing it over and over again. She was responsible for his pain, and the apologies she needed to say, too innumerable to measure over the last year and a half, would fill Maggiano’s. But they couldn’t come over text, no matter how sincere, and certainly not from Naomi.

  Bryson: Yeah. Me too. Ask her about the party, okay? Please.

  Naomi: Oka

  Naomi’s blood-red manicured nails snatched her cell out of Erica’s hand from the booth behind her before she could complete the text message. “He said you ruined him? Geez. That’s a strong word. So is hate.”

  Erica flinched and didn’t turn around right away as she prepared to face Naomi with the most casual expression she could hold. She realized then how much she was invested in Naomi’s continued faith in Bryson. He had said hurtful things but he was certainly not the only guilty party. Twisting at the waist, she flashed a big smile meant to calm her sister. “I didn’t come back, Naomi, remember? I ignored him for a long time. He’s dealing with his pain, too. And he wants to apologize,” she said in Bryson’s defense.

  “I took his invitation out of your stack, but I invited him to the engagement party. I don’t want it to be a surprise when you see him there because he RSVP’d ‘yes,’ and before you get mad, he’s obviously still my friend, so I wasn’t going to not invite him.” Naomi looked like she planned to hold her position if Erica opposed Bryson coming, but the uncertainty in her expression meant she still wanted her sister’s approval.

  And Erica was actually happy that he planned to be there. “Great. He looks damn good in semi-formal,” she joked.

  Naomi trained a fleeting smile at her before she raked Erica’s hair away from her face. “I think you just need to find the right time to talk to him about everything.”

  She shrugged slowly. “In my experience, there’s no good time to bring up something like what happened. It might not make sense to you, but the person he sees now, someone who hurt him so badly—this me who left him—isn’t what happened in Thailand. The minute he finds out what I really am, that Jeremy...that I let Jeremy steal our…” Trailing off, she shifted her eyes to the scenery outside the window as Naomi moved back to the booth seat across from her.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know that. I don’t mean that. But I wasn’t strong enough to fight through it!” Erica said in a strained whisper, afraid her voice would break if it were louder, as she turned her eyes to her sister. She was tensing physically, like there were strings tied to her shoulders, and they had been yanked upward by the force of a giant. “This is a whole d
ifferent me, this rape survivor, and a rape survivor who couldn’t even really survive. It’s a double fucking whammy, Naomi. I have no doubt he’d still love me. But what if as I’m going through this he completely stops seeing who I was before? And people can say that they treat me like I’m the same Erica, but they don’t. I can manage it with them, but this is Bryce. My Bryce.

  “You know I love him. The universe knows. If you saw my heart right now… Every vein and artery holds some part of him as if he were the blood itself, the very essence of me. And will forever. So, I love him enough to not want to burden him with this. With me.” Why strip his world of the color left in it and inject this kind of darkness instead? “Once the curtain is lifted, he’ll see... he’ll really see all the lost hope.” Our forever.

  “Erica, please—”

  “He’ll see the two parts, because my life now has a fucking seam, and I’ll never be able to make it whole or make it invisible. Bryson…” Erica paused when the eyes of a few nearby patrons drifted over to her, and she was suddenly conscious of the decibel of her voice. “…Bryson will see the seam.” Erica bit down on her trembling lip. She looked away until the burn of her tears subsided. “The truth will change everything more than my lies have, Naomi.” God, it must’ve sounded like she had given up on herself. And she hadn’t. But what she was doing felt equally as terrible. Coping was a bad bitch.

  Naomi sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, and Erica didn’t know if she was weighing her responses or attempting not to cry, too. The conversation had veered in a direction Erica hadn’t intended it to. Lashing out, bursts of anger, all new characteristics of Erica 2.0.

  After a loud breath, she said, “So, what are you wearing to this party he mentioned, and why didn’t you tell me about it?” Another new habit was making awkward topic transitions.