Under the Orange Moon

by Adrienne Frances

  Meredith lifted her arm and pointed to the tiny watch that wrapped around her wrist. She mouthed the words wrap it up, and made an expression of urgency as she did.

  Dylan wandered around the room, checking over shoulders and nodding at every line, every angle. She hardly ever shook her head. In her mind, art was art. Each artist has her own voice, her own magic. She would only assist with creativity blocks or if she felt more personality or feeling could be pulled further into the picture. Dylan created with feeling, as most artists do. Her art was her novella—her story—as it should be, she thought.

  Dylan nodded to Meredith and rolled her eyes as she turned her back. She still had five minutes left. It was her future sister in-law that needed to check the time, not her. That was Meredith, though. It would never change.

  As Dylan closed down her class, she hollered instructions she hoped were heard as each student fled from the room. She remembered a time when they hung onto every word she uttered. Nonetheless, even she was bored of her monotonous voice these days.

  “Okay. So, we have a final fitting tonight and I need you to help me with the flowers tomorrow,” Meredith rambled as they walked through the school’s parking lot. “You’re good with that stuff.”

  “Flowers?” Dylan asked through a burst of laughter. “I didn’t know that was my thing.”

  “It’s art, right?”

  Dylan shot a puzzled look Meredith’s way. “Yeah, if I’m a florist.”

  “You know what I mean, Dylan.” She waved her hand in annoyance. “You’re creative.”

  “Whatever.”

  The drive to Maria’s Bridal was a slow one in the evening rush. Life was back to the usual race after the holidays and everyone had gone back to work, settling into the familiar normalcy of their lives. Rush hour traffic lost its festive nature amongst drivers and their road rage had returned.

  Dylan tried to blend in with all those around her. She smiled her most convincing of smiles and even added a fake laugh once in a while. No one close to her bought into this charade she put on, but none of them dared to accuse her of needing to get over it. She was trying to heal and that was all they asked of her.

  “Did you decide who you wanted to be paired up with yet?” Meredith asked as she navigated around a curve. “Is Michael definitely out?”

  Dylan glared at her. Meredith didn’t have to look back to know that her expression was not that of a friendly one. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” Meredith answered for her.

  Dylan shook her head and sighed. “It’s your wedding, Meredith. Do whatever you want.”

  The girls walked through the double doors of the bridal shop and almost instantly Meredith’s face was all business. She was ready to get into her dress and be the princess she was meant to be.

  “Hello,” one of the women addressed them. She sounded as prissy as she looked, Dylan thought. “The gown is ready for you!”

  “Perfect,” Meredith beamed. “What about the bridesmaid dresses? I have one of them with me. I don’t really know if this one eats, though, so you may need to take it in a bit.”

  “I believe we have them ready.” The woman looked Dylan up and down. “You must be the size six in the back. I surely hope you don’t get any smaller or we’ll be using a flower girl’s gown instead.” She chuckled at her own joke as she pranced to the back.

  Dylan nodded and plopped herself down into a comfy looking, circular chair. She wasn’t prepared to play dress up today, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood for any eating tips from anyone. She was pretty sure she hadn’t shaved her legs since the last time she was with Ben. That was definitely going to pull a snide comment from Meredith, something Dylan despised.

  Meredith ooh’d and ahh’d at her wedding dress as they pulled it from the garment bag and displayed it with a twirl. She sipped from a champagne flute and looked like she had done this her whole life.

  “Dylan, isn’t it beautiful?” Meredith shrieked. “I could look at it all day!”

  Dylan smiled and chuckled to herself. She had seen this dress too many times to keep track of. It was her that helped Meredith decide on that one only the month before. It was a dress. It was a big, poofy white dress.

  Like a pro, Dylan stood on a stool as she held the dress up in the air and dropped it down over Meredith’s head. She fastened the hundred or so satin buttons all the way up until her fingers were sore. She lifted the back of the gown, led Meredith up to the mirrors, and fluffed out the long, sparkly train until it spread out beautifully.

  “Wow,” she whispered, realizing that she truly was in awe of her future sister in-law. “Charlie is going to cry.”

  “I know, right?” Meredith practically screamed. “Everyone should have a wedding dress. I’m a princess!”

  Dylan pulled the veil that they had chosen over a month before. She gathered up Meredith’s hair and pinned the veil into the bunched locks. She spread out the crystal and jeweled tulle, and pulled it all the way down.

  “There,” Dylan said in a genuine tone of sweetness.

  The girls stared at Meredith’s reflection for what seemed like hours. If Dylan was much of a crier in public, she was sure she would be a blubbering mess. The finality of all the shopping, fittings, champagne sipping, and veil searching had finally come. It was a lovely feeling, Dylan thought.

  “Okay,” Meredith began, as Dylan carefully lifted the gown from her body, “let’s see if your anorexic butt swims in that tiny dress.”

  Dylan shot Meredith a scowl she was sure to see, but she pretended not to. She knew she had lost a bit of weight and she was well aware that the dress was going to be a tad big.

  She pulled the light pink gown from the hanger and carelessly flung it over the dressing room door. The strapless, formfitting dress was exactly the same one that Dylan had fallen in love with, a time when she enjoyed the way she felt in it.

  As she slipped into the long gown, it only confirmed what everyone thought. She most definitely had lost some weight. She zipped up the back of the dress and realized she looked like a twelve year old boy in it. Her curves, what little she had before, had now disappeared with Ben. She felt ugly for the first time in her life.

  “It’s too big,” she yelled from the fitting room.

  “Well, may I see it?” Meredith barked. “We have to know how much to take in, Dylan.”

  Dylan sighed deeply. “Fine, but keep your comments to yourself.” She opened the door and stepped up to the mirrors.

  Meredith stood next to the seamstress as they both wore frowns on their faces. They didn’t have to say what Dylan knew they were thinking. It was obvious, but they voiced their opinions anyway.

  “Dylan,” Meredith whispered, “you have to eat.”

  “I am eating!” Dylan snapped. “I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “How do I fix this?” the seamstress asked sharply. “Suppose I do and she just keeps losing the weight? The beading on this dress will make multiple alterations very difficult.”

  “Then we’ll wait until just before the wedding,” Dylan suggested. “A week before.”

  “Oh yes, that would be easy,” the seamstress lashed out.

  “I’ll pay more,” Dylan offered a bit more sternly.

  “You could eat, you know?” Meredith shot. “It would be lovely if you could try that.”

  “I should eat, yes, I know!” Dylan blasted back. “I should smile, laugh, get over it, and—God help me—I should do this all for your wedding and this stupid dress! I’m sorry that I can’t move on for you, Meredith. Really, I am. It must be really putting you out, my heartbreak and all.”

  Without another word, Dylan turned and stomped to the fitting room. She unzipped the dress and shook it from her feet, refusing to be courteous in hanging the dress back up. “Do whatever you have to do,” she yelled. “I don’t care.”

  She didn’t want to carry on this way, and it wasn’t her choice to do so. She didn’t know how to force happiness on herself. She did
n’t know how to make herself eat, smile, laugh, and pretend Ben didn’t exist, that she hadn’t felt something with him, connected with him in so many ways she didn’t know up from down while she was in his presence.

  She watched her reflection as a tear formed in the corner of her eye and escaped, rolling down her cheek and dropping from her jaw to her collarbone. She didn’t even feel human anymore. She moved through her life in a state of blurred existence, praying each day would bring some sort of light at the end of the desolate tunnel she found herself in.

  She picked up her clothes from the floor and dressed herself without care. She had become a slob. She dressed funny, she had bags under her eyes, and she looked like a skeleton. If someone didn’t know she was brokenhearted, they’d surely think she was a crack head.

  Dylan slowly stepped out of the fitting room and barely looked at Meredith, whose mouth was still wide open in shock. She picked up her bag and headed for the door. She didn’t care to apologize for snapping. She could only take so much, and she wasn’t about to be double teamed by her brother’s wife-to-be and some seamstress with lipstick all over her teeth.

  The drive home was silent. Meredith didn’t even consider coming into the house as she dropped Dylan off at home. Dylan didn’t bother reminding Meredith that her car was back in Scottsdale, at the school. She wanted to be as far away from her as possible. She knew she wouldn’t survive being in the car with Meredith for another minute. She would find a ride tomorrow.

  Linda sat alone at the kitchen table, sipping from a mug filled with hot, steaming tea. She sat there a lot these days, looking out the window and thinking of her divided children. Brandon, Hugh, and Jonah wouldn’t even speak to Charlie, who seemed to stand on Ben’s defense with a truckload of benefit of the doubt.

  She wondered what her husband would have done with this situation. She knew he enjoyed Ben as much as the rest of them. When Carl tinkered with the car, garbage disposal, plumbing, and anything else he could get his hands on, the boys would surround him and absorb every word that came out of his mouth as if it were the most fascinating words anyone had ever spoken. Carl would always give Ben a turn, encouraging his participation as much as his own biological sons. Carl loved Ben and Ben loved him just the same.

  Still, Linda knew that Dylan was Carl’s heart and soul. He couldn’t love his daughter more, and this was what he always feared. He knew an evil man would one day leave her heartbroken, but what would he have done if he knew that heartless monster was Ben? Would he feel as bitter as Brandon, Hugh, and Jonah? Or would he feel as unconditional as Charlie and herself? Not even Linda knew the answer.

  Ben did not return calls, text messages, or even emails. She knew that it wasn’t because he didn’t care. She loved him maternally and would always see the good in him, even despite the fact that he left her only daughter in shambles. He needed space and time and she would be there when he needed her. Of course, she would never allow Brandon, Hugh, or Jonah to know that she felt that way. They may even disown her if they knew she still hoped for Ben’s return.

  Dylan’s heartbreak was obvious, especially in their empty house. Charlie raced around, preparing for the wedding and working to pay the extra bills. They never saw him. It was as if he didn’t even live there. The other boys had all gone back to their lives in California and Washington. The Mathews home had become a very depressing place to live, Linda noticed.

  She raised her brow and beamed at Dylan as she stepped in from the garage. “Hey, honey!”

  Dylan wore her fakest smile and Linda had learned to know it well. “Hello.”

  “How was the fitting?”

  “Meredith is mad at me,” Dylan said as she whirled past her mother. “My dress is too big.”

  “Can’t they just take it in?” Linda asked, knowing it wasn’t really about the dress. She herself had noticed Dylan’s dramatic weight loss and feared for her as the rest of them did.

  “One would think that, right?” Dylan answered, walking up the stairs and closing her bedroom door, ending any and all conversation.

  “Great talk,” Linda muttered with frustration.

  Upstairs, Dylan pulled the clothes from her body and sank into the bed. She rolled to her side and hugged the pillow she had placed in Ben’s spot. It was there that she allowed herself to cry. It was in that spot that she felt closer to him, wondering if he missed her the way she missed him.

  Miserably and routinely, she cried herself to sleep every night since the last day that she saw his face, the day he destroyed her. Sadly, she couldn’t find a single ounce of animosity for him, which only made her hate herself even more. Pathetic.

  Ben listened to his voicemails with rolling eyes and clenched teeth. He allowed his inbox to fill completely before he forced himself to listen to them. Most of the time, his phone was off. He only turned it on for his own use that didn’t involve anyone important on the other end.

  The tenth and final message that Charlie left that week played in Ben’s ear. He felt it would be less disrespectful if he at least listened to the whole thing. He had no intentions of returning the call, though.

  “Hey, man. It’s Charlie…again. I just wanted to let you know that Meredith and I still want you at the wedding. Well, maybe not so much her, but I do.” Charlie paused and sighed loudly. “C’mon, Ben, you’re more of a brother to me than my other brothers right now. Prove them wrong and show them that you give a shit about something. Anyway, the invite is still open. If you show up, cool. If not, you owe me sixty-five bucks for the plate I paid for.” He chuckled to himself, before adding, “Just kidding. Call me.”

  Ben erased the message and sank to his cold mattress. He felt guilty, but not so much that he was willing to admit it out loud. Charlie would give up soon enough. Not much kept Charlie Mathews’ attention.

  He rolled his eyes at each random message only insignificant girls left, asking where he’d been and when they could get together. He cringed at the message from his aunt, his mother’s sister, who only now cared to be a part of his life. He chuckled at the message from Linda, asking if he wanted her to send the shirt he had mistakenly left behind at her house. He knew that it was only an excuse to call.

  The final message was from his realtor, saying she had successfully fixed up and cleaned the house from all of the damage Ben had done through his grief. Ruth’s home was now ready for sale. Finally, he thought. He was more than ready to get that house and all it held inside as far behind him as possible. He couldn’t seem to muster up a single feeling of sentimental fondness when he thought of Ruth’s cold home.

  Ben slumped back against his pillow and pushed the play button on his remote. Breakfast at Tiffany’s was a movie that Dylan had enjoyed for as far back as he could remember. She tried to make him watch it one night and he truly attempted to, but somehow, in their entangled position on his bed, they had decided that making love was a better plan.

  He found himself smiling as he watched this crazy woman avoid love at all costs. He didn’t find the film to be as great as Dylan made it out to be. He did, however, feel that much closer to her, like a part of her was in his television, or maybe even his bed. He smiled again, imagining Jonah catching him as he watched this ancient chick-flick. How could he even defend his masculinity then?

  He pushed pause and shut off the TV when the knock on the door reminded him where he was. He had been doing that a lot lately it seemed. He drifted in and out, forgetting that he wasn’t in Phoenix anymore, but remembering with a sudden sound that he was back in his cold apartment in Cambridge.

  Ben opened the door, not at all surprised by the guest that stood in his hallway.

  “Professor Tanner,” he announced quickly. “Come in.”

  The professor stepped in with his arms folded behind his back. His thick, red scarf filled with flakes of snow was an indication to Ben that he walked a great distance to pay this visit. Meaning, it was important.

  “Ben, how are you?” Professor Tanner asked, removing
his coat and gloves. He kept his scarf on for some reason. “I just spoke with your father.”

  “Oh?” Ben asked, not surprised. He knew his father would be using his connections to make sure Ruth’s death didn’t cause any setbacks in school. It was only a matter of time. Professor Tanner was a well respected man who could make things happen or not happen. More importantly, he was Warren McKenna’s closest friend. Needless to say, Ben expected this visit.

  “Why didn’t you say anything about your mother?”

  “What is there to say?” he asked with a careless tone. “What could be done about it?”

  Professor Tanner narrowed his eyes as he studied Ben’s expression. “You’re a strong young man, Ben. I like the drive in you. I believe it will take you as far as you want to go—all the way perhaps.” He paused to place his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m not sure anyone is as strong as you’re letting on, though.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

  “I can pull some strings and request that your internship be put on hold at Weis and Carter. Just until the fall, when you’re head is a bit more focused.”

  Ben felt enraged, but kept it in his gut where it belonged when speaking to his criminal law professor. “Sir?” he asked, confused. Weis and Carter was Ben’s dream. It was the largest law firm in the country, dramatically called the Holy Grail among law students. He fought hard to be chosen for the internship, and he wasn’t about to let it go now.

  “Son, this is your only shot with the big boys. If you screw this up, you’ll never get a chance to do it again.”

  “I understand that, sir. That’s why I believe it would only be a mistake to postpone the position now. I need to direct this anger somewhere and I think—I know—that this is the best thing I can do right now.”