by Debbie Civil
Chapter 6
The sound of running water hits my ears. I groan and roll over. It’s far too early to be awake. And even if it wasn’t, I don’t want to face another day of being questioned by ruthless lawyers. Everything is sore, including my head.
“Are you going to wake up?” Mom asks. It must have been her making use of the bathroom.
“No,” I mutter into the soft pillow. This has been a routine. Over the last week, she has been the one charged with my wake up call.
“Chelsea, you have to eat breakfast. You need to go for your fitting.” I have no idea what she’s talking about. But her words don’t matter. Sleep is tugging at me.
“Go away,” are the words I spit out around a yawn.
“Chelsea, we have an early appointment. It’s important for us to keep it. Mary Masson is difficult to secure an appointment with.” Her words are making it through my fogged brain. I don’t need to go back to the station. At least that’s a relief. I sit up and stretch.
“What fitting?” I ask, hating that Mom has the nasty habit of micromanaging my schedule. She fills up my free time with pointless activities so I won’t see Peter. I’m unsure of what to do about her overwhelming clinginess. But I can’t take it for much longer.
“Eliza’s wedding,” she says, looking at me as if I were crazy. Thinking of my cousin and how she’s leaving me out of her wedding party because I’m crazy makes anger travel through my veins.
“I have plenty of gowns in my closet,” I grumble, feeling that me going to a fitting is pointless. Mom frowns.
“Chelsea, you’ve lost weight. None of those dresses will fit you anymore. Besides, it’s a special occasion. You have to wear a dress that’s in season,” she reasons as the door flies open. Eliza strolls in wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Her brown hair is in a high ponytail, and she’s sucking on a lollipop.
“Hey, Chelsea,” she greets awkwardly. “Are you going to get ready for the fitting?”
“Am I supposed to come?” I ask, having a bad feeling about this.
Yes. “Everyone in the wedding party will be there,” she responds.
“I'll pass,” I say, thinking that I’m going to feel left out. Sadness flickers in Eli’s eyes before it’s replaced by steely determination.
“You have to get out of the house. And besides, I chose the perfect dress for you.”
“What about me?” I shout. “What decisions do I get to make?” Why doesn’t anyone understand? It’s not about the fitting itself. It’s about the fact that no one is allowing me any autonomy over my life. Eli shrugs.
“I just figured since you’ve been so busy at the police station, I would choose a dress for you.” Her words are delivered in a way that irks me. I’m not a two year old that needs to be talked out of throwing a tantrum.
“Really?”
“Chelsea, you haven’t been around. I figured…”
“So, I’m going to be stuck with all of the bridesmaids in your wedding for an entire afternoon? Eli, didn’t it ever occur to you that it would be awkward since I’m not one of your bridesmaids?” She looks as though this hadn’t occurred to her. Mom rolls her eyes.
“Chelsea, Eliza’s parents run a business. Most of those girls are there to placate investors. I…” I abruptly cut off this conversation by walking into the bathroom. My family can be so dense sometimes. I wonder what Peter’s doing right now. Thinking of him creates an ache in my chest. I miss him dearly. A tear falls down my cheek. Grandmother said that I had two days to make my decision. But it’s as if Mom is making sure that I don’t choose. She has been attached to me like a second skin. I’m surprised she didn’t follow me in here. Deciding that Mom and Eli would take the hint if I ignore them, I set a bath for myself. I add in fragrant bath salts to soak my muscles and light incense. It feels nice to treat myself. As soon as the water is ready, I slip out of the pink silk nightgown that Mom insists is fashionable sleeping attire and slide into the near scalding water.
“Chelsea,” a voice calls. Peace isn’t in the cards today.
“I’m taking a bath, Carmen. Come back later.” She doesn’t take my demands seriously. She strolls into the bathroom and parts the shower curtain to get a better look at me. I squeal and sink further into the water.
“Hello! What are you doing?” She shakes her head as if my reaction is unreasonable.
“Why aren’t you coming with us?”
“Carmen, would you come if you were in my shoes?” She closes her eyes for a moment, and her eyebrows draw together.
“Eli wants to spend time with you. She missed you, Chelsea. Why can’t you understand that?”
“What about me, Carmen? Why doesn’t anyone think about me and my needs? My ex-boyfriend told the whole world that I was a violent, manipulative slut with a drinking problem. Do you have any idea what that’s like? People write blogs about me. Some people think I’m a monster that’s only being protected because I come from a rich family. Some psychologists are talking about my behavior and say that I might be a sociopath. Do you truly know what I’m going through? I don’t think you do,” I hiss, a tear rolling down my face. She frowns before placing a supportive hand on my head.
“Hey, Chelsea. You’re right. I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t. But doesn’t it occur to you that you have to start living? Eli wants to cheer you up. Being in this house isn’t good for you. Why don’t you have a good time with us? Danny’s coming. And you weren’t even allowed to communicate with her. She’s been worried about you. I think that…”
“Have fun Carmen. If you want to hang out with me later, I’m game. I’d rather pick out my dress. People have been making too many decisions for me lately. I feel suffocated.” A look of understanding stretches across her face.
“How about a night of watching lifetime movies and eating junk food?”
“If my mother doesn’t come, you’re describing the perfect night,” I say, causing Carmen to wince. She’s known through my various e-mails how annoying Mom has been.
“Try e-mailing Grace. She’ll need somewhere to go. Maybe Grandmother won’t mind having her visit,” Carmen pointedly suggests before strolling out of the bathroom. Thinking about Grace somehow makes me miss Peter even more. That’s when I decide that I’ve got to do something. We haven’t even spoken since I returned. I need to call him. That’s been difficult because Mom has been keeping close tabs on me. The woman has taken to confiscating my cell phone at night. I sigh at her antics and proceed to wash myself with the scrub brush. Since I washed my hair last night, I decide against it today. I dry myself with the blue towel and slip the nightgown back on. Who knows who’s in the bedroom? I toss my under garments down the newly installed laundry shoot and rush out into my room to find my mother sitting at the round table drinking a cup of coffee. She scowls when she sees me.
“Chelsea, I can’t believe you won’t even look at the dress we’ve picked out.” I run my fingers through my hair and glare at the bowl of oatmeal that rests at my place setting. Yet again, I am being served something healthy.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I snap as I stroll into my closet. She’s silent for a moment. It doesn’t affect me one bit that my comment has probably hurt her feelings. On some level, I think Mom knows she’s going way over board.
“No. I picked out my dress before you got back. Now, Chelsea, have some breakfast,” she orders. I slip into sweat pants and a t-shirt just to piss her off. Mom is the type of woman that needs to be dressed up all of the time. I sit down and glare at the oatmeal.
“I don’t want it.”
“Chelsea, eat the oatmeal. It’s good for you.” Her eyes are filled with worry as if because I’m rebelling, something must be wrong. I want to remind her that she is rebellious. For goodness sakes, she went against her family and married a man. Inspiration hits. I stand and head to the closet and change out of the sweat pants and t-shirt and into a blue sundress and flip-flops. Mom raises a brow at my attire. But
I don’t give her any time to comment. I walk over to my desk and pull my keys out of the drawer. The woman stands and waves a hand.
“Chelsea, what are you doing?” Her voice has hardened.
“I’m hungry. I’m going to drive around and find a drive through. I’m not eating that,” I say, gesturing to the mush that everyone calls oatmeal. Mom shakes her head.
“Chelsea, the healthier you eat, the less…”
“Crazy I’ll be,” I fill in, shooting her a glare.
“No, the less depressed you’ll be. Chelsea, this is for your own good. I’m…”
“Mom, if I have to spend another day with you, I think I’ll go crazy. “Saying those words, I stroll out of the room and call the elevator.
“Coming with us, after all?” Danny asks as she strolls down the hallway.
“No. I’m on the search for something greasy.” She frowns when she stares at me.
“You’ve lost a ton of weight.” Her words are delivered with concern.
“It’s easy to with the workouts that Mom insists that I do. The more I workout the less crazy I’ll be.” Danny shakes her head, as if thinking that this logic is nuts.
“Have you been going to therapy?”
“I’m starting up with a new counselor on Monday. She does home visits,” I report. Danny looks relieved.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” When the door opens we both step in. As we travel down two floors, I examine Danny. She hasn’t changed much, which makes me feel comforted.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” I say, looking at the princess cut diamond on the fourth finger of her left hand. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her expressive dark brown eyes.
“Thanks. How are things with you and Peter?”
“Nonexistent. Dad is trying to keep us apart. He’s convinced I don’t love him. I’m obsessed with the idea of loving someone,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Danny exits, and I follow close behind her. As I’m about to turn toward the foyer, an arm prevents me from moving. I crain my neck and see Bob, shaking his head.
“Mrs. Philips has asked me to escort you upstairs.” Danny spins around and glares at Bob.
“You’re going to make us late. Let her go,” Danny orders, her eyes growing frantic. Bob frowns.
“Mrs. Philips told me that she was trying to leave on her own.” Danny glares.
“Is Chelsea in prison? Let her go, Bob,” she snaps, which makes me fear her. Bob releases Danny, and she wraps an arm around my shoulders. I shake my head at her as she guides me to the foyer.
“Take your pick. You are either going to be stuck here or with Eli’s wedding party.” The thought of being around strangers makes me want to itch. I can’t stand the privileged types.
“Fine. But I’m taking my car. I’ll follow the limo,” I insist.
“Fine, I’ll ride with you,” Danny says, looking relieved that she doesn’t have to be anywhere near the girls.
We wave to Eli as I lead Danny into the garage. After sliding into the convertible, I turn the ignition and back out of the structure with the top down. Following the black stretch limo is a piece of cake. It turns out that the bridal boutique is only five miles away. Danny reclines her seat and tips her face up. I smile at her and enjoy the sense of freedom.
“It feels nice to get out of the house,” I comment, as my stomach rumbles.
“The mayor of Gately has banned the press from hounding you. He says that it’s disruptive to business. That’s why you haven’t seen anyone taking pictures,” Danny informs me. To be truthful, I hadn't considered that. What if there are tons of reporters in Elmview. Then I’ll be screwed. A bunch of news hungry idiots aren’t going to keep me from Peter.
“That’s good to know. Maybe we can go to a diner for lunch,” I offer. Danny shakes her head.
“Eli has made reservations at the Gately steakhouse.”
“So you can’t eat with me?” I ask. Danny shakes her head again.
“SO we can’t eat at a diner. Chelsea, Eli…”
“She told me that she didn’t want me as a bride’s maid because it would be too much for me. As if I’ll snap and ruin her whole wedding. Danny, I’m only coming because it’s better than being followed everywhere by my mother. But let me make this clear. The first chance I get, I’m going to dip,” I warn her. Danny nods and we pull into the parking lot of a store with mannequins wearing colorful, expensive looking gowns. After I put the top up and turn off the ignition, I bite my lip. What now?
“Eli did pick a beautiful dress for you. If you hate it, I’m sure that you could get another,” Danny muses.
“Fine,” I mumble before slipping out of the car. I grab my purse from the trunk, its current designated place because there is no point of taking it in with me, and walk with Danny into the store.
The bridal party consists of Carmen, Danny, Olivia, an Asian girl named Kim, Tia, a blond named Chloe, and a brunette named Stephanie. Everyone except Stephanie greets me with warmth. A woman named Anna, who is dressed in a pantsuit, holding a clipboard, greets us. She checks all of our names off and smiles.
“I’m glad you came,” Eli says tentatively as she squeezes in beside me.
“Is she part of the bridal party?” Stephanie asks, her green eyes filling with hostility. “Because I will back out, unless, someone has a straight jacket handy.” Danny winces and Eli looks as though someone had told her that the venue to her wedding had just burned down. I ignore Ms. rich and snobby and scan the various racks. I’ve learned that ignoring her type is the best thing to do.
“Stop that, Stephanie. She’s my cousin. You can’t talk to her like that,” Tia whines. Stephanie huffs.
“Says the girl with a convict for a father. Seriously, Eliza, what were you thinking inviting the crazy chick? She isn’t a part of the bridal party. And…”
“Shut up, Stephanie. She’s here. So deal with it,” Chloe snaps, and I think I like the girl. I shoot her a smile of thanks and decide that I need to part with this group. Standing here, seeing how everyone is interacting reminds me that I’ve been gone for two years. Things have changed. It isn’t the five of us anymore. I walk away from the group and lose myself in dresses. If you think of an occasion for a dress, Mary Masson’s has it. I slide my fingers through countless racks of casual, cocktail, and bride maid’s dresses, feeling comforted. It’s peaceful when no one is breathing down my neck. I pick out a blue sun dress and smile at the sea shell print. This would look good for a stroll down the beach. I glance at the price tag and see that its 250 dollars, but it doesn’t affect me. I have an extremely healthy bank account.
“Chelsea,” Carmen calls tentatively. She startles me. And I spin around and swing the sundress as a reflex. She curses and holds up a hand.
“Sorry. Are you all right?” Of course not. I’m broken, confused, and deeply alone. My parents are micromanaging my life and a really mean brown haired girl just pointed out that I don’t belong here. She thinks I’m crazy. So no, I’m not okay. But Carmen won't understand that. She’s never seen what I have. She’s just an over privileged girl who has been sheltered.
“Fine. I’m just doing some summer shopping. A lot of my sun dresses don’t fit me anymore.”
“Cute dress,” she comments.
“Yeah, it is.” I don’t bother making any more conversation with her. I just flick through the clothes and pick up sundress after sundress. Then, I get bored and pick out cocktail dresses, more casual dresses, and then I reach the section with the formal wear. An employee has supplied me a shopping cart when he senses that I’m about to go on a shopping spree.
My eyes pass over all of the fabrics and beautiful colors. There are so many beautiful choices. But I know the color that I’m looking for. I want to wear something red.
“Are you going to by the whole store, Chelsea Philips?” The familiar voice makes my heart fill with joy. I spin around and see Rain standing there, her red hair t
ucked up in a bun. She’s wearing blue jean shorts and a pale pink tank top. Her big round eyes take me in and relief spreads over her features. I wrap her up in a tight hug.
“What are you doing here?” I mumble into her shoulder.
“Peter wanted me to check on you. Apparently you broke up with him,” she whispers. I pull away and my mouth drops open.
“What? Rain, what are you talking about?” A sick feeling fills my gut.
“Apparently, you texted him and told him that you loved someone else. You told him to move on. When he showed me the messages, I knew that you didn’t write them. You’re a horrible speller and everything was correctly phrased. I told him that it looked more like something your mother would right. He wasn’t sure. So I told him when I had a day off, I would drive up to Gately and see what’s going on. I went to your house, and your mother was not happy to see me. She told me you were busy. Then your Uncle Kenny gave me the address to the boutique once I told him who I was. And so here I am.”
“I didn’t break up with Peter. It’s the opposite. I’ve been trying to figure out how I could see him. Mom’s been stuck to me like glue. She hasn’t allowed me to leave the house unless it’s to be interrogated by the police. I…” I pause, take in a deep breath and tell my cousin everything.
