by Amy Baker
“Bellissima!” Angela declared.
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. So I nodded at the vision that she had created. “Thanks to you,” I added.
Angela smiled extending her arm toward me and gestured with her fingers that I should step down from the pedestal. “Do you want to take it-a homa?” she asked.
“Si,” I answered respectfully. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Italian, Miss Angela?” I asked looking back at her creation. But before she could answer my eyes settled on a different image in the mirror and I froze solid. Not because of how I looked. But because in the three-way reflection I saw the guy that Darcy was arguing with. But this time he wasn’t with Darcy. He was with Hugh.
“Holy shit,” I murmured.
“No, no,” Angelo shook her head. “No, holy shit,” she said with indignation. “Grazie. Grazie iz thank you in Italiano,” she corrected.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked completely forgetting that I had asked her for the Italian words that would express my gratitude.
“Grazie,” she reiterated.
“Oh, you’re welcome Angela,” I answered as I jumped from the pedestal to go quickly change my clothes. I heard a ‘Madonna me’ as I ran into the dressing room already peeling off my dress. I was in a hurry as I had finally recognized the guy that Darcy, and now Hugh, was with. There was a reason he looked so familiar. He was Hugh’s older brother. And even though I had only met him one time, I remember thinking that they didn’t look very much alike. I found out later that they weren’t full brothers. They had the same father but different mothers, which explained why they weren’t raised in the same home. But he was invited to the engagement party and he would be at the wedding. Then it occurred to me that there was a good chance he would be in the wedding party. I rubbed a hand over my brow unsure if I would be able to stand across the aisle from Hugh and his brother knowing what I knew. But what choice did I have? I didn’t have actual proof the baby wasn’t Hugh’s. There was just something about the way Darcy and…and… Ryan. That was his name. The way she and Ryan squared off. I knew in my heart of hearts that it was true. I just didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe it was time to come clean.
Chapter 2
“You can’t say a word.” I pulled the phone away from my ear as Julia snapped her gum so loudly the crack made my eyeballs momentarily lose focus.
“But…” I started.
“No buts. Zip it. Lock it down. Stuff a sock in it and keep it quiet. Do you hear me, Dee? No matter what happens. I know how to handle this shit. Trust me.”
Julia definitely had a certain kind of worldliness about her making her seem mature beyond her years but how she knew how to handle rumored-premarital-not-whose-you-think-it-is pregnancies I wasn’t sure. “No matter what you say or how you say it, you will be the bad guy. Do you want Hugh Rowen to think of you as the bad guy?”
Of course I didn’t want Hugh to think of me as the bad guy. Julia knew the answer to this question. “No,” I said forcefully. “You know I don’t.”
“Then listen to your BFF. The messenger is always the bad guy,” she shared her wisdom.
I had heard a similar phrase before, probably from my mother, so I guess she had a point. I would zip it, stuff a sock in it and keep my mouth shut. This was the plan until, of course, I totally and completely lost it at the wedding.
My eyes rolled at the sight of her. The bride sat in a pink tufted chair with her hair in rollers and a very sexy undergarment that Hugh Rowen would be removing from her curvaceous body in mere hours. She looked a little dazed as the make-up artist she had hired beckoned for her to come to the dressing table. I stood in a corner trying to get dressed where I could insert my lamb chops with no one seeing. The last thing I needed was one of Darcy’s bridal party bitches witnessing the best kept secret on the planet. Of course, no matter how hard I tried, there never seemed to be the perfect opportunity to slide those suckers inside my bra. I kept them tucked inside the bag I had packed which still had my shoes, necklace and jeweled hair clip. Just as I was about to reach into my bag to go for the gusto, the flower girl sauntered over.
“Whatchadoin’?” she asked innocently.
I stood abruptly and answered awkwardly, “Nothing. Why do you ask?” I couldn’t have presented a more suspicious front if I had tried.
The little girl gave a shoulder shrug and kept at it. “What’s in there?” She pointed to my bag.
“Nothing,” I reiterated. “Why do you ask?” I scratched my lower lip with my front teeth unsure why I was repeating myself.
The little girl shrugged again and then bent over to look in my bag. “I like make up and my mommy won’t let me wear any. So if you have some lip gloss she won’t know where I got it,” she explained as she began to dig. At that point I wanted to pull her head out of my bag by the ridiculous ponytail that her mommy had arranged way too high on the top of her head. “Here’s some!” she straightened from my bag. “And it’s pink. My favorite.” She opened the cap and smeared it all over her face. At least I knew why her mother didn’t want her wearing make-up.
“Hey now. Don’t go in my bag,” I scolded a little late in her scavenger hunt. “That’s private.”
Of course the little monster was undeterred and as if a honing device was bleeping on my lamb chops she dove back in head first with her hands going straight for them. “What are these?” she asked pulling them from the zipper.
Naturally that was the moment that the little beast’s sister decided it was time to come see what sort of havoc she was wreaking. She had been terrorizing the world since the wedding was announced but of course as soon as she found my falsies her sister had to come investigate. “Kelsey? What are you doing?” Shocked by what her little sister held in her hands she gasped so loudly that I thought an ax murderer had entered the room swinging. “Kelsey! Put those down!” she screamed.
That was when the entire bridal party turned to see what all the fuss was about. Little Kelsey held the chops high in the air and announced that she just figured out who had stolen the chicken from the rehearsal dinner the night before and she found it in my duffel bag. All this to create a diversion so no one would notice the little demon had lip-gloss smeared from ear to ear.
First I heard what I was hoping was a cough. But then I realized that it was laughter. Then came the jokes. Then came the looks. And then came Darcy Strong slowly sauntering across the room to me. “Good Lord, Delilah. What were you thinking? Everyone will know those are fake. You are as flat as a chalkboard,” she announced to the room once again. I sighed heavily grabbing my chops from the little traitor that invaded my privacy. I threw them back in my bag, tossed my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the room. It was either that or burst into tears and there was no way I would ever allow Darcy Strong to see me crying.
I finished getting ready in the bathroom where there was no little pain in the ass going through my things and no bridesmaids criticizing the way I looked. I did my own hair twisting the long brown locks this way and that so it fell in haphazard tendrils and placed my sparkly clip just where it should go. Then I shimmied closer to the mirror to check my face. I put on some more lip-gloss, luckily not as carelessly as the little monster that ravaged my bag. I brushed on a little more blush because Julia told me that a girl needed more color for pictures. And I doubled up on the mascara lengthening the lashes that framed my big green eyes. I pulled back from the mirror to take a better look. I nodded one time because even I thought I did a great job. I took another step back to see the entire picture. Not bad, I thought to myself. More importantly my chops were perfectly placed. Angela would be proud. Delilah Welling was showing up to Darcy Strong’s wedding looking her finest.
I cracked the door to the ladies room to peek outside into the hall. It was bustling. The bridesmaids were all checking each other, for what I was not sure. The groomsmen were wrangling stray wedding guests. The little monster also known as the flower girl was picking her nose. I decided to
make my move praying that I would just blend into the scenery.
No such luck.
“Hey you! What did you do with all of that chicken you stole?” It was just my luck that the friggin’ hallway had not one carpet or sound absorbing object in it. The little beast’s voice was bouncing off every surface like we were in the middle of the Grand Canyon.
“Beat it, Brat, you look like the Joker,” I bent and whisper-yelled in her face.
“You’re not nice!” she yelled back pointing a finger at my nose.
So I did what any mature teenager would do. I stuck my tongue out at her.
“You’ll pay for that!” she threatened.
“Oh yeah, what are going to do? Call your best friend Elmo to come beat me up?” I straightened crossing my arms under my new lamb chops. I saw the little brats eyes lower to my chest and then back to my face. That’s when her lip-gloss smeared lips formed a smirk on her face. She turned on her heel without another word. For some reason her non-response made me really anxious.
Pachelbel’s Canon filled the wedding chapel. The Bridesmaids were peeling off one by one to walk down the aisle escorted by a Groomsman. Hugh’s brother was the last Groomsman waiting his turn to escort the Flower Girl’s sister, Hannah. But he was otherwise distracted. He didn’t know that I was watching him because his full attention was on Darcy. He pushed off the wall with a flex of the muscles in his shoulder and pressed his fingers to his forehead rubbing back and forth. Then I heard him sigh angrily. Darcy was totally consumed with her appearance to notice his demeanor. I watched as he approached her gaining her attention when he filled her space.
“Don’t start, Ryan. It’s over,” she warned.
His hands went to her hips walking her backwards to the rear wall. “Please, Darc,” he murmured. “I still want you.”
“No. You had your chance. You blew it.” She pushed him back and walked past him. When she reached me, Hannah and the little monster, she turned to look back at him. She stared at him clenching her jaw in anger and giving him the death stare. His response was to walk straight to Hannah with his eyes locked on Darcy. He attached Hannah’s gloved hand to the crook of his arm without ever tearing his gaze from Darcy.
“Let’s go,” he said to her.
Hannah looked a little confused but went with Ryan willingly. Darcy shrugged off the confrontation and jerked her chin at me to tell me to get going. She really was the consummate bitch.
Just as I turned to start my descent down the aisle, Kelsey, the little mother-fucking flower girl, threw her basket of rose petals in front of my feet. The tips of my shoes tangled in the ribbons that adorned the basket and I went down like ton of bricks. My gloved hands released the bouquet I’d been clutching a little too late in the game and were therefore unsuccessful at breaking my fall. The rest of me followed with a loud thud and a very unflattering bounce. The entire chapel gasped simultaneously. As my body impacted the ground my lamb chops sprung free from their low security prison and bounced down the aisle without me. I heard a bunch of ‘Oh my heavens’ and a few ‘What the heck were those?’ I peeked up from the floor hoping my chops were within reach but they had flown really far. My eyes continued up the aisle to find Hugh Rowen on the move in my direction.
Still sprawled out on my belly, I held my arm straight out trying to halt his progression while I yelled for him to stop.
“Nooooooooo,” I splayed my fingers to demonstrate the universal sign for ‘stop’ but he kept coming. He picked up one falsie and then took another step to get the other. As he bent to help me up I heard Darcy approach from behind. The orchestra made up of a violinist, harpist and pianist came to an audibly offensive stop and everyone stared at us in the deafening silence.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Delilah? You have been jealous of me for as long as I can remember and you would do anything to show me up at my own wedding,” her ridiculous accusation was heard by the entire congregation. She couldn’t have said it louder or clearer. Seriously. Even the crickets could be heard gasping for air at her horrifying proclamation.
“Darcy!” I heard Hugh warn but it was too late.
Unable to believe that she actually thought that I would mortify myself by tossing my lamb chops in the middle of her wedding, I turned on her abruptly. I don’t know what came over me but something enormous must have taken possession of my soul because my response was less than my usual angelic. Needless to say, Mama’s advice of remaining ‘pliable’ flew straight out the window.
“How could I show up a bride who’s pregnant with her fiancé’s brother’s baby?” As soon as the words breached my lips my hands went over my mouth. “Oh no,” I whispered.
I’m not sure how loud I said it. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just thought I said it. I turned to see if anyone had heard hoping I had only said the words in my own mind. But I quickly realized that I used my voice because there were too many jaws agape. I winced accepting that I had in fact said it aloud. I turned to get my chops from Hugh and I could see by the look in his eyes that he had definitely heard me. He looked like he had been punched in the stomach and couldn’t breathe. His beautiful lips were parted and he looked like he was in shock.
“I’m so sorry, Hugh. I never meant to hurt you,” I breathed. I witnessed his shock quickly morph into anger at the sheer betrayal of his brother and fiancé. His fists constricted around my falsies so tight they began to bulge at both ends. My eyebrows shot up at the sight fearing they were going to burst. Hugh turned to look back at his brother who was staring guiltily at his shoelaces with his hands joined together in front of his privates. The entire chapel was silent except for one demonic voice.
“I told you she stole the chicken, Mama!” My eyes slowly closed in response.
How could something so cute be so evil?
I ran out of the chapel making my hasty getaway. I felt awful about what I’d done and hurting Hugh in the process made my stomach clench. He had always been so wonderful to me and I just gutted him in front of everyone he had ever known. It didn’t take long for the tears to start to flow and I swore that I would never publicly humiliate another soul for the rest of my life. But, sadly, it was too late to take back what I’d done to Hugh. He would probably hate me forever. And, really, who could blame him?
Chapter 3
(12 years later)
“Hey, Delilah,” my doorman greeted as I entered my apartment building. As the glass door began to slowly swing closed behind me, the noise from the New York City traffic was drifting toward a muffled whirr.
I walked toward Davis with my hand extended. He reached out to take the hot cappuccino I had thoughtfully purchased for him. I loved my doorman. So including a hot beverage for him when I placed an order for myself was far from an inconvenience. “Hey, Davis. Any packages while I was out?” I asked hoping that the dress that I had ordered online had arrived as expected.
“Aw, I needed that, Dee.” He lifted the coffee to express his thanks and brought the cup to his lips for a sip. “Mmm. No, Dee. No packages,” he assured.
I pressed my lips together illustrating my disappointment and nodded at him so he knew that I had heard him. Truth be told I was a little pissed off. I had paid extra for express delivery knowing if I chose regular shipping I might not receive the dress in time.
“Thanks, Davis,” I nodded as I headed for the elevator.
“Oh!” He pointed a finger to the imaginary light bulb above his head as something dawned on him. “But there is a message.”
“A message?” I questioned as I brought the straw of my iced caramel latte to my lips.
He went behind the desk of the reception area to rest his coffee on the counter and retrieve the message. As he walked back around with the note in his hand he began to read it aloud as if I would be unable to read it myself. Fairly inappropriate in a normal doorman/resident relationship but Davis and I were more. We were friendly. He would ask me advice about women and I would ask him to please stop asking for my advic
e about women. It was all in good fun. Until of course he started reading my note. “Hello, Junior….”
Davis quickly stopped reading so he could step closer to begin a series of slaps on my back. I was unable to stop the choking episode that had begun as soon as the word Junior breached his lips. “Delilah, are you okay?” he asked with concern.
I couldn’t speak clearly but I had to ask the question. “Did you...” Cough, cough, “say…” Cough, cough, cough, cough. “Junior?” Cough, cough, cough, cough.
Davis looked back at the note in order to confirm that it was in fact addressed to Junior. He looked concerned that he might set another coughing jag in motion and all for no good reason if he had been mistaken.
“That’s what it says,” he stated insecurely with a complimentary shoulder shrug.
“Oh my God, Davis.” I ripped the note from his hands and tried to focus my eyes which had started to spiral like those cartoon characters I used to watch when I was little. I pulled the paper closer and farther from my face trying to find a comfortable distance where I could read it conclusively.
I read the note aloud. “Hello, Junior. It’s been twelve long years. I’m in town for a meeting but I wanted to stop by to see you. Hope all is well.” I turned the paper over hoping that there was some sort of hidden message written on the other side. But there was nothing. Davis looked at the note and then at me and then back to the note and again back to me.
“Delilah?” He asked hoping for an explanation.
I faced Davis deliberately looking straight into his eyes. I slapped the note that was in my right hand against his bicep and fisted it with the material of his polyester jacket. My left hand mirrored my right but probably gripped a whole lot of arm hair with the tight hold I executed rivaling that of a silver back gorilla. Then I started shaking him violently. “Did you see him, Davis?”