by Elodie Colt
Tossing her license and keys onto the passenger seat, I drive off with screeching wheels, throwing a glance into the rearview mirror to make sure that whoever she’s calling picks up. I see her yelling into the phone, waving her hands about in agitation. Good. She’s not my concern anymore.
When I reach the spot where I hid my bike, I take out the fine of five thousand pesos and stuff a few bills behind the wheel. Corrupt or not, I know a Mexican cop’s salary is a joke. Who knows how many little mouths Officer Hernández has to feed?
I discard the uniform and quickly hop into my clothes, then put on my helmet. Parking my ass on the leather seat, I take a moment to decide where to go. I could use a taco and a strong drink.
But first, I’ll find some poor kids on the street who might need the remaining four thousand pesos to make ends meet.
I stare out the window watching the sea thousands of feet below us through a haze of clouds. The flight to Veracruz is short, but Daniel, Leo’s soon-to-be husband, insisted on chartering a jet for us, anyway.
Torn, I glance down at the book in my lap. I should finish reading it for my next exam, but I’m stalling, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the girls who throw me suspicious looks every now and then. I can’t blame them. You rarely see me chilling on the couch, or watching shallow sit-coms, or spending a lazy day in bed. Busy is my second name. Always studying, always reading, always striving for success.
I listen to podcasts of renowned psychologists during my morning routine. I read scientific articles on my tablet while I cook. Hell, I even spend my time in the shower constructing new hypotheses.
Now, I’m sitting here wondering why I feel like suffering a midlife crisis at the age of twenty-seven while I could bury myself in my books and look forward to the wedding in Veracruz.
My cognitive psychology exam was a disaster, and it’s eating me up. The worst grade I ever got was a B-, and it was a one-off. Imagine Professor Dobkowski’s surprise when he handed me the papers with a fat, red C+ on it. The girls never ask about my grades. They know I always pass with flying colors. I didn’t tell them about my epic fail, afraid they’d drill me with questions I can’t answer.
Studying psychology was my calling early on. My parents? Both renowned psychologists.
I know what you’re thinking. Poor you, they analyzed you all the time! True, they did, and it was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait to move out. Every conversation was littered with therapeutic terminology. Every lecture was peppered with ‘depressed,’ ‘defensive,’ and ‘in denial.’
Now, you’re asking, why the hell did I follow in their footsteps? Simple.
Mom and Dad were the perfect couple—never arguing, always ending each other’s sentences, always treating each other with respect. Love was in the air whenever they were together.
Until Mom filed for divorce out of nowhere, ready to leave our family for a twenty-something plumber with an IQ of sixty.
With all the knowledge I’ve gathered in the field of psychology, I’ve never understood her motives, never figured out the reasons behind her decision. I guess this was the point where I decided to pursue a career as a couples therapist. And as I’m in a long-lasting, happy relationship with Jesse, I thought I was qualified for the job.
Now, I’m not so sure anymore, and it’s driving me nuts.
Ever since Jesse set off to Venezuela four weeks ago, things have been weird. The whole shebang where he ‘forgot’ to tell me he would miss the wedding, plus his half-assed apology are still a fresh wound.
He calls once in a blue moon. He’s always too busy or too wasted. The one time we spoke longer than a minute, he prattled about groundwater pressure gradients and unconfined aquifers, followed by a lame ‘How’s it going?’ which I couldn’t answer because someone switched on the drill machine in the background.
Not to mention, I haven’t had sex for an entire month.
My gaze dips down to the book in my lap again. The Happiness Hypothesis by Jonathan Haidt, an award-winning psychologist. I love the book, but here’s the catch with psychology: It confronts you with the raw, naked truth until you start questioning every decision you ever made in your life.
And the last chapter left me truly shattered—what is true love?
Compassion in difficult times, the author wrote. Jesse and I never had difficult times, so I can’t say.
Being told you are loved. Jesse says ‘I love you’ about once a month, but mostly in passing before he’s off to work. I never gave it much thought, actually.
Feeling special and appreciated. I do, but it didn’t feel that way when we said goodbye last time.
Quality time together. Bending your heads over books and asking each other scientific questions hardly counts, does it?
The more rewarding the love, the greater the loss. Huh. What if we were over right now? How would I feel if we broke up? Sad. Lonely. Aimless. Could I live without him? I could. But something would be missing, right?
Fuck, what’s wrong with me? I love Jesse. My commitment never wavered. I never questioned our relationship. Why now? Why do I peek at my phone every second hoping it pings with a text from him? Why did I fail my exam? And why the hell do I have the urge to order a triple shot right now?
“Everything okay?” Skyla startles me out of my reverie, and I turn to her reclining in the huge leather seat. “You look pensive.”
I plaster a genuine smile onto my face. “Just a little tired.”
Skyla regards me for a moment, then resumes taking selfies and chasing likes. I’ve got a Facebook account, but I post about once a year. The only pictures popping up in my feed are the ones where Kendra or Skyla tagged me. Social media is a waste of my time.
I let my gaze swerve over the others, watching them with curiosity. Sam types idly on her notebook, bringing her next romance story to paper. Distinct music comes from Kendra’s earphones, and she nods her head to the beat of whatever she’s listening to—probably Aaron’s next radio hit. Leo is lost in her drawings, moving her pen over a sheet of paper, her hands streaked with black.
“Guys, can I ask you a question?” I wait until I have everyone’s attention. “What’s true love for you?”
They all exchange ominous looks, and I can read the question on their faces. Is this another one of Ruby’s therapy sessions, or is she starting to second-guess her relationship with Jesse? Both.
“Utter commitment and devotion,” Sam chimes in first.
“When you feel an intense drive of sexual attraction and just can’t get enough of him,” Kendra says with a snicker.
“When your troubles seem lighter and your dreams more possible?” Skyla throws in, making it sound like a question. She’s never been in love, so I guess she can’t relate.
And then, they all start talking at once.
“When you feel alive.”
“When something inside of you starts to purr at the sound of his voice.”
“When you feel a magical connection.”
“When you feel like the search is finally over. As if you’ve waited an eternity for him to step into your life.”
I nod each time someone fires off an idea, arranging all the mental snippets in my head. Leo hasn’t said a word, as usual impartial and not interested in joining the conversation, but everyone falls silent when she blurts out her next words.
“When every minute he’s not with you is a torturing one. When you’re more in his presence than you could ever be on your own.” Her eyes are on her drawing, but her voice is eerily firm. “When he becomes your other half, a half you can’t live without. You become one entity. When even the thought of losing him rips you apart, and when you know that, should he ever leave you, you’d die of heartbreak right on the spot.”
Her blasé tone contradicts her daunting words, and for a moment, no one can articulate a response.
“Oh my God, I’m going to cry a river when Daniel puts a ring on your finger,” Kendra gushes, and Leo grunts.
Tha
nkfully, the soft bing of the fasten-your-seatbelt signs signal that we’re going to land shortly, and I can pretend to focus on packing my stuff while I slowly crumble inside.
Damn, Ruby, why did you have to study psychology?
~~~
“This is Daniel’s house?” Skyla shrieks when a glorious, southern style mansion comes into view. Emilio, one of Daniel’s bodyguards and currently our driver, slides the limo to a halt in front of heavy iron gates.
“My house is a house,” Sam utters, her eyes growing big as she takes in the majestic estate. “This is a palace.”
Kendra tosses back her champagne and turns to face Leo. “Are you sure Daniel’s not into selling drugs?”
“Who the fuck cares?” Skyla throws in before Leo can reply. “He’s rich, he’s gorgeous, and he worships Leo like a goddess. Oh, did I already say he’s rich? That guy has a bridge in his garden!” She points to a scenic, little stone bridge forming an arch over a pool.
Daniel is already waiting for our arrival, well-groomed and clad all in black from his suit jacket over his dress shirt and down to his polished shoes.
Next to him is Kendra’s second half, Aaron. With a cigarette in hand and his long, blond hair up in a messy bun, he rocks the urban style with knee-ripped jeans, worn-down sneakers, and a hoodie jacket.
Last, there’s Sam’s future husband, Matthew, looking gorgeous in plain jeans, heavy boots, and a checkered flannel shirt.
Three men waiting in anticipation for their women.
No man waiting for me.
“Ladies, welcome to my modest home,” Daniel greets us when Emilio opens the door and lends us all a hand. I snort. Modest is the last word I’d use to describe this place.
We say hello and exchange pleasantries until it’s time for the couples to celebrate their reunions, and Skyla and I step back to give them a moment.
Matthew pulls Sam into a tight hug, followed by a sweet kiss onto her forehead. Kendra greets Aaron with a squeal, jumping him and snaking her legs around his hips. And then there’s Daniel who loses all inhibitions as soon as Leo is within reach, kissing her so fiercely, one might think he’s close to ripping her clothes to shreds.
Skyla squeezes my hand when she notices me watching them with mixed feelings and offers me a reassuring smile that immediately lifts my spirits. She’s the only one in our circle who’s still single, but she’s never complained. I, on the other hand, am in a steady relationship and make a fuss when I have to live six weeks without Jesse.
“All right, ladies,” Daniel announces when he detaches himself from Leo. “I’ll see you to your rooms so you can get some rest before we meet for dinner.”
As it turns out, each of our rooms is about as big as a penthouse. Golden-veined marble, varnished wood, and lavish materials are everywhere with rustic decorations as tasteful accents here and there.
I pad over to the window offering a hundred-and-eighty-degree view. Palm trees and rose bushes fence in a gigantic pool, and a cozy patio invites you to spend a lazy afternoon on the sun loungers. Skyla is already doing laps, training for her upcoming surfing competition.
I glance at my bag, torn between using the time to study for my exam and just doing nothing for one day.
“Ugh, to hell with it… you’re here for fun,” I declare with a mental slap to myself. “So, you’re going to have fun, Ruby.”
Just as I open my suitcase to fish out my bikini, my phone chirps, and I freeze. What are the odds that Jesse’s calling?
“Perfect timing…” I groan when I see his name on the screen. Biting my lip, I debate how to handle this. Should I play the pissed-off girlfriend or pretend everything is fine and dandy? I decide to go for something in between.
“Hey,” I say when I pick up, my tone polite but not overly enthusiastic.
“Hey, my girl,” comes Jesse’s voice from the speaker. “Are you already in Veracruz?”
“Yeah, we arrived about an hour ago.” I try not to sound too accusing when I quip, “You haven’t called this week.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry… I’ve been quite busy, and I work every day way past midnight.”
“You could call in the morning,” I retort, standing my ground this time. “Or text me at lunch.”
“I don’t have lunch. We usually work twelve hours nonstop.” He pauses. “Listen, I know it’s tough this time, but I really have to focus on my work here. The drilling jumbo conked out yesterday, and…” I roll my eyes to the ceiling as he starts to talk my ear off once again, and I cut right in, too winded to keep up this conversation.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re busy. Call me… whenever.”
I hang up, staring at my phone for another minute. Jesse doesn’t call again. No text with a sincere apology. No red hearts. Nada.
‘When every minute he’s not with you is a torturing one,’ Leo said.
Honestly? Right now, I’m glad he’s not here. And gathering from the non-existent frequency of his calls, he doesn’t seem to be too tortured either.
~~~
“Dammit, Kendra, stop crying. You’re ruining your makeup,” Leo grumbles, handing Kendra yet another handkerchief to dab her cheeks.
“I know, but this is… this is just… I’m overwhelmed,” she sobs.
“Great teamwork,” Skyla chirps in my direction and offers me a high-five.
We step back to give the brides space in front of the life-size mirror, admiring our work. Kendra did our makeup using matching colors to go with the aquamarine bridesmaid dresses, while Skyla styled our hair. Each of us has the top part combed back and held in place with matching hair clips. Leo persisted on wearing her bridesmaid dress for her wedding, so Sam is the only one in white.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” Sam babbles, fiddling with a lock of hair for the hundredth time.
“Matthew loves you with all his heart as you love him,” I say to pacify her, winding an aquamarine sash around her hips which she insisted on wearing to match Leo. “This is your big day, Sammy. Enjoy it.”
Sam nods then turns to hug me. “I love you.”
I chuckle. “Save those words for your husband, honey.”
“I’m already sweating,” Leo complains, and I break away from Sam to see her fanning her armpits.
“It will be over in a few hours,” Skyla says. “You can jump into the pool right after.”
Leo spins around to face her with wide eyes. “Really?”
“No!” Kendra prompts and throws Skyla a scolding glare. “No swimming and no ripping off your clothes before the last guest leaves this venue.” She holds up a warning finger, and Leo surrenders with a grumble.
I walk up to the window. The guests are already seated, the grooms stand sentry in front of the altar, and the priest is ready to give the couples his praise.
“All right, ladies. Ready to rock this party?” I address the girls, and they all nod in unison before we venture out hand in hand.
The backyard at Daniel’s mansion has been transformed into a wedding wonderland dipped in shades of blue and green—all orchestrated by Leo, no doubt.
Turquoise lanterns form a lit-up path around the pool, and garlands of crystal beads combined with twinkling fairy lights dot the trees. Teal glassware and royal blue candleholders match light-green table runners. A white carpet divides the rows of seats left and right, leading up to a stunning flower arch. Here and there, various drawings from Leo’s gallery are displayed on glass easels. As far as I know, everything sold today will benefit the Sanfilippo Children’s Foundation—an NGO founded by Daniel.
Sam’s parents took a few days off to come here from Kenya where they live. Her father, a chubby, little guy, smiles when he walks her down the aisle, but to me, he seems a little distant. Sam was never close to her parents, and the way she looks up at her father shows that the daddy-daughter thing is awkward for her.
I already feared things might get touchy when we discussed who would walk Leo down the aisle. Her mother died a few mo
nths ago, and her father is off the grid. Surprisingly, Leo seems to be totally at ease with the guy guiding her—her tattooist, Zach. The only man she trusts, other than Daniel, of course.
When we come to the ‘I do’ part, Leo, whose voice never falters, starts to stammer, and it’s only when Kendra squeezes her hand that she finds the volume to say the words out loud. Soon, the priest allows the grooms to kiss their brides, followed by loud cheers and standing ovations.
For the next hour, the photographer hustles us around the backyard until Leo calls it quits with the words, “This is a wedding, not a photo shoot. I’m starving, and I want a pastry now.” Daniel just laughs and follows his new bride beelining for the food.
The rest of the evening wears on with the usual wedding games and throwing the brides’ bouquets. I stay in the last row on the outer side for this one, a silent acceptance that I won’t be the next to say the vows. Sam flings her bouquet first, and we all hoot when Daniel’s mother catches it.
Leo is next, throwing it so wide, it sails over our heads. Out of nowhere, someone tackles me, and I stumble a few steps back. The bouquet hits me right in the face, and I catch it out of reflex. The crowd goes crazy while I send Kendra a what-the-fuck look, knowing she’s the traitor. She just grins and sends me a wink.
When night sets in, Aaron goes to work behind his DJ desk, opening the disco for the evening. I choose a vacant table to sit down and give my feet some rest, sipping absently on a glass of champagne. It doesn’t take long until Leo plops down next to me with a huff.
“I always thought Kendra would be the first to get hitched,” I muse. “Instead, you beat her to it, marrying the guy who kidnapped you a few weeks ago.”
“Fucking crazy, right?” She huffs a laugh, and it’s only after a long pause that she speaks up again. “I’m sorry for what I said on the plane. About true love and all that shit. I didn’t want to discourage you or anything.”
I nearly snort my drink through my nose, surprised by her confession. “You’re apologizing? What happened to you, and what did you do to Leonara Alvarez?”