by Harlow Hayes
Elsea didn’t understand why she was being so nice to her, but her touch was comforting no matter how distant it felt initially.
“You can’t marry him now,” Rhema said, staring at Elsea’s reflection in the mirror. “You can do so much better than that.”
“Really? Do you think so?” Elsea raised her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The tears were coming; she could feel it.
“I know so! You’re a decent-looking girl, and you have a job. See? You already have a lot going for you.” Rhema patted her on the back.
Elsea slowly stood up and reassessed her appearance. She still looked frail in her own eyes, so she tried to see herself through what Rhema was telling her. She wasn’t sure if she could believe it, but with each breath she took, she absorbed Rhema’s words, and her emotions overflowed. Could she go through with it? Could she make a decision that would change the rest of her life in a matter of seconds? Decision-making had never been a strength, but maybe today was the day to leave all of that in the past.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, somewhere deep inside, she knew that what Rhema was saying was true. The time of being weak was over. She was going to make a decision for herself—not one for her mother, not one for her father or Peter, but for herself. She was going to be a new woman, a new person, and she had Rhema to thank for that. She reached behind her, grabbed the pull, and unzipped the dress.
“Thank you, Rhema. Thank you for giving me the boost that I needed to do this.”
Rhema looked at her, smiling as she stepped out of the wedding dress. Elsea moved frantically throughout the room, looking for the clothes that she had worn to the church.
“No, no, don’t thank me. You deserve so much better, and you are going to have it. I am certain.”
Elsea finished tying her shoes, grabbed the keys to her beat-up car, and walked out of the back door of the deacon’s office. It was the beginning. The spark of what was to come for her.
You deserve much better, and you are going to have it. The words kept replaying over and over in her head. Life is going to get better, she thought. It is going to get better.
Rhema sat there for a moment to give Elsea time to get away before she went and told Mrs. Kelly that Elsea was gone. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Good Neighbors Don't Care
Rhema and David arrived home from the church the same time as Mr. and Mrs. Kelly. She saw Elsea’s worn-down car parked on the side of the street, and Rhema wished that she was a fly on the wall in that house when the Kellys confronted Elsea for walking out of her own wedding. She could see the anger on their faces all the way from their drive. She didn’t care what kind of state Elsea was in, but she did feel accomplished.
The church was decorated so nicely, too. What a waste, she thought. It was obvious that they had invested a lot of time and money into the event, but it served the Kellys right. Rhema knew that they were just putting on a show. It was obvious that they didn’t care for Elsea. She was a mistake in their eyes. Rhema became even more intrigued when she saw that Peter wasn’t with them.
What an asshole. He didn’t even have the nerve to show up and fight for her. He didn’t love her at all, which made Rhema wonder why he even wanted to marry her in the first place. She sighed in relief. She had done a great thing, saved a fellow woman from an asshole and was still able to entertain herself at the same time.
The sound of her heels hitting the concrete as she got out of the car echoed down the street. She was distracted when she heard a garage door open. She turned to her right, and there was Emily, walking down the driveway to their van. She wore sweats, and she looked like she hadn’t showered in days. It was no wonder that Kyle was cheating on her. She was letting herself go. She felt tickled inside while watching her pulling the groceries out of the car.
While she was unloading, Kyle walked from the garage and came up behind her, resting his hand on her hip, but she swatted it away in anger, then looked around to see if anyone had seen. Rhema quickly averted her eyes. Mission accomplished, she thought, and a small smile cracked across her face.
“I wonder what happened to Elsea,” David asked, reaching for Rhema’s hand as they walked into the garage.
Rhema looked up at him. “He cheated on her.”
David turned around and looked at Rhema in shock. “What? How do you know?”
“She told me before she walked out. That’s how I know.”
“If she knew that, why did she wait all the way up until the wedding day to break things off?” he asked, opening the door for Rhema. “People can be so stupid.”
Rhema agreed, but for some odd reason she found it necessary to come to her defense.
“David, the poor girl only found out last night.” She tried to sound as sympathetic as she could.
“What?” His jaw dropped, waiting for Rhema to confirm.
“Yes. She went to his place to pick up her wedding shoes because she had left them there, and he was in there banging some bimbo.”
David stared at Rhema for a moment before speaking. “I have never heard you care that much about someone else’s troubles. Are you finally making friends?”
She looked at him and questioned herself. Why had she become so invested?
“Whatever,” she said. “I just feel sorry for the girl. Being cheated on the day before your wedding sounds like a nightmare.” She didn’t feel that bad for Elsea about the cheating; she should have known better. All she had to do was take one look at Peter and see that he was a controlling, narcissistic fraud, and the only reason she could think of for him being interested was that Elsea was controllable. Maybe that was what drew her to Elsea as well.
Rhema slid out of her heels and let her hot feet absorb the coolness of the tile floor. “Have you ever cheated on me, David?”
He looked at her, perplexed. “Where did that come from?”
“Answer the question. Have you ever cheated on me?” she demanded.
“God, no, Rhema. I’m just not that type of guy. At the end of the day, I love what’s mine. And you are mine. I am completely satisfied with our marriage, with our life.”
A smile stretched across Rhema’s face, and she leaned in to kiss him. “You better be.”
David began to walk up the stairs.
Rhema reached into her purse and grabbed her pack of cigarettes and started to walk toward the patio. “And, David, just so you know, if you ever cheat on me, I will kill you.”
David laughed, and Rhema smiled up at him. “Yes, Rhema, I know. It will be the end of me,” he said as he continued up the stairs.
But Rhema meant what she said. If he ever did cheat, it really would be the end of him.
***
Rhema stood outside fidgeting in the cold, flicking the ash from her cigarette. She could hear the arguing coming from the Kelly house, and it was worth standing in the cold for.
“You are such an embarrassment. All of the money we spent on you. This was one less headache I needed to have …” Mr. Kelly said.
“Elsea, just answer me this. Are you retarded? George, I told you that we should have had her looked at years ago, but you wouldn’t have any of it.”
“Do I have a voice here?” Elsea yelled.
Rhema looked up at Elsea’s bedroom window and was shocked to hear her assert herself as she took another drag of her cigarette.
“He was cheating on me! He was controlling me! Fuck Peter!”
“Don’t you use that kind of language in this house. Don’t you ever use that language in this house again, you—” Mr. Kelly said, catching himself before he let the word slip out.
“Why was I cursed with such a stupid child? What have I ever done to deserve this? I think I’m going to pass out. George, I can’t take this anymore,” Mrs. Kelly added.
Rhema had had enough. No wonder Elsea was the way that she was. Her parents were psychos. But she understood that all too well and was thankful tha
t her own parents were dead.
She flicked her unfinished cigarette to a melting snow pile on the ground, and for the first time in a long time, she actually felt sorry, truly sorry, for someone else, but the moment was brief. She was right in doing what she did, so she went back inside and started dinner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vodka Rocks
Elsea laid across her bed, head hanging off of the edge, hovering over a trash can. She had snuck a fifth of vodka into the house, and the bottle was almost gone. She had been doing it since she was a teenager. It was the only way that she could face most of her days. She’d heard her sister and her mother talking about her last night, and she couldn’t bring herself to face them.
The past few days seemed to blur together. Elsea felt only a pit in her stomach and could barely bring herself to move. The room smelled. She had been sweating out alcohol, and she hadn’t showered since yesterday. There was nothing but silence from Peter since she’d walked out before the wedding, and it made her feel worse.
“I don’t want her at my party, Mom,” she heard her sister say.
Her mother didn’t want her there, either, but in her own way she didn’t talk about her as harshly that day as Hannah did. Hannah’s graduation party was tonight, and Elsea knew that she wasn’t welcome. The plan was to stay in her room. Just her and her vodka. Her sister’s law-school boyfriend was staying at the house, but Elsea had yet to lay eyes on him, even before the wedding. She assumed that they had hidden him away from her, not wanting the black sheep of the family destroying their image of suburban perfection. Perfection. For Elsea, there was no such thing.
I should have done it, she thought. I should have gone through with the wedding.
The sting of regret overrode the numbness gifted to her by the vodka. Even though her life wouldn’t have been what she wanted, it couldn’t have been worse than what she was experiencing staying in her parents’ house. She was kept around for appearances’ sake and nothing more, and the thought was a knife to the stomach. The first time she made a decision on her own, and it was the worst one she could have made, driven by hurt and confusion and an underlying desire to have power over her life. But she couldn’t maintain it. Whatever it was inside of her, pushing her to get out of the situation, just wasn’t powerful enough.
She could hear the guests trickling into the house. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and neighbors, all there to celebrate Hannah, their goddess. The smart sister. The pretty sister. The sister who was going to go out and change the world. Elsea almost vomited thinking about it. The light in the room nauseated her even more, so she turned off the lamp next to her bed and laid in the dark. Her legs were restless, and she felt that she would black out soon.
As she laid in the dark, the noise, the excitement that was going on downstairs, was too much to handle. She heard all of their voices congratulating Hannah, telling her that she looked beautiful, telling her how handsome her boyfriend was, and Elsea’s anger grew. She reached over to grab a pillow to cover her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear any more, but it didn’t help. It just made her hot.
She was tired of taking the back seat to everyone, especially Hannah. As she thought more about that feeling, a fleeting feeling of power rose inside of her, that feeling she’d had just before she walked out of the church. The feeling she’d had when she chased down Peter’s lover. Her thoughts of hate toward Hannah kept feeding it, until finally it boiled over.
She raised herself up out of the bed and staggered over to the bedroom door. Opening the door was a challenge in itself, and the hallway looked as if it stretched on for miles. She stepped out and began to stagger down the hallway. Inching down the hall, she clung to the wall to help support herself, until she reached the stairs. When she looked up, she was there, standing at the top of the steps, looking over everyone in the family room and everyone looking back up at her.
Hannah’s smile turned into a scowl. Rolling her eyes, she turned, looking at her mother and father. There was Rhema standing next to her husband with a grin across her face. She pointed at Rhema and winked.
“You! You saved my life,” she said before stumbling. She took hold of the banister before she fell and continued her descent down the stairs. At least someone was proud of her, even if it wasn’t her own flesh and blood. Elsea felt like she was on a roller coaster with each step she took down. When she made it to the bottom, she walked over to the food table and grabbed one of the sandwiches and stuffed it into her mouth. She was so hungry. She hadn’t eaten all day. Pieces of sandwich fell from her mouth as she ate.
“Mom!” Hannah yelled.
Elsea turned around and walked toward Hannah. She stood next to a tall, handsome young man who she assumed was the boyfriend.
“You must be the little shit that my sister is sucking off.”
The whole crowd gasped.
“What?” Elsea asked, looking around. “I hope you’re not buying all of this virginal crap. I mean, look at her.” Elsea grabbed a piece of Hannah’s long blonde hair, then flicked it. Hannah smacked her hand away.
“What is wrong with you?” she yelled. “Why do you always have to ruin everything?”
Elsea extended her arms in order to embrace her. “Poor baby … Did I just ruin your day? Here, come here. Rest your troubled, pretty little head right here,” she said, tapping her breast.
Hannah burst into tears and ran from the room.
“What a wimp. Congratulations, by the way,” Elsea yelled as Hannah ran off in the opposite direction.
The boyfriend looked at Elsea, baffled, before he took off after Hannah, followed by her mother.
Elsea’s father came up to her and grabbed her by the arm.
“I apologize, everyone. She hasn’t had her medication today.”
Elsea looked at him, confused, as he dragged her by the arm and back up the stairs. She didn’t take medication. She was just drunk, but she knew that her father would say whatever he could to save face in front of all those people.
He tossed her in her room.
“After Christmas is over, it’s time for you to find your own place. You have two weeks.” He slammed the door and went back downstairs. Then Elsea blacked out.
CHAPTER NINE
Sisters Are The Worst
Elsea laid on the couch, staring at her mother’s workout equipment. She had been instructed to clean up the hand weights, jump rope, and stretching mat. Her mother was out running last-minute errands with her father for the Christmas party, and she had no idea where Hannah was and didn’t care. In the meantime, Elsea contemplated her future.
On top of everything, her car had died that morning, and now she couldn’t get away even if she wanted to, and now she had no place to go. Things were over with Peter. She hadn’t heard from him since she walked out of the wedding. It was clear that she never meant anything to him.
Then what was it all for? she thought. She was proud of herself for making a scene the way that she did at Hannah’s party. Her stomach jumped with excitement, knowing that Hannah’s day was ruined like her day had been ruined. She could hardly stand the silence anymore and felt that it would be beneficial for her to start drinking. She had been banned from the Christmas party and had to be out of sight before it started, so she figured that it was best to start throwing back shots so she could at least feel good in her solitude.
Not sure what she was going to do next, Elsea started to make of list of things that she could do in her head, a list of acquaintances that she had acquired over the years, but she knew that none of them would have time for her. It was Christmas, and she was the only one without a life. She didn’t have a significant other, she didn’t have children, and the people that she thought of weren’t even her friends, so she knew the she would only be receiving polite rejections.
She stood up from the couch and went upstairs, opened the hatch to attic, and pulled out the bottle of whiskey that she had stashed up there. She knew it was only a matter of time before her parents
discovered that she had been drinking and raided her room. They got all the other stuff—the gin, the vodka—but they didn’t get the whiskey. She opened the bottle and took a swig before she walked into her room and stretched herself across her bed.
What am I going to do? she asked herself.
A noise from downstairs disrupted her thoughts. She jumped at the sound of shouting.
“What is the problem, Hannah?” she heard Stephen say. “Why won’t you say yes?” he demanded.
“Because I’m not ready!” Hannah yelled.
“Bullshit, Hannah! That is all that you have been thinking about and hinting at for the past five months. Now you act as if you haven’t been doing those things, as if they don’t even matter.”
“The truth is that I just don’t think that we have a lot in common, not enough to get married. You know, spend the rest of our lives together.”
“That’s a lie, Hannah. You just told me that you loved me … I’m just so confused. Will you please start making sense?”
Elsea could hear the desperation in his voice. He was pleading with her the way that she wished Peter had pleaded with her, but he didn’t. To Elsea it was obvious that he didn’t even care if she was still breathing. She kept listening, taking shots of whiskey straight from the bottle in between.
“Jesus, Stephen, don’t you get it? I just don’t want you anymore!”
Silence followed, but only for a brief moment.
“That can’t be true. They way that you made love to me last night says different. What is it, Hannah? Is it your sister? You were right, she is horrible, but that is no reason for you to—”
“I fucked Josh! There, are you happy? We love each other, and that means that we can’t be together. Do you understand?”
Elsea fumbled with the whiskey bottle in her hand, and it fell to the floor, making a loud thud.
“What was that?” she heard Hannah ask.
“Never mind what that was. What do you mean you fucked Josh? Who is Josh?” Stephen asked.