by J. L. Berg
I took her hand and grinned. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I replied. “And besides, tonight, you’re just a friend. Nothing more. Got it?”
“Got it,” she grinned.
She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something more, but then just gave me another smile before the elevator opened and we all headed for the door.
“You didn’t,” I said, looking out onto the street.
Sarah smiled like a damned Cheshire cat. “I did.”
Parked outside our apartment building was a stretch limo.
And it was pink. Fucking pink.
“I hate you. Times a million.”
“Liar,” she laughed. I groaned as our chauffeur, also dressed in a pink vest and bow tie, stepped out to help us with the door.
She was right, of course. There was no way, no matter how many plastic penises or pink limos she threw at me tonight, I could ever hate her. Through everything, she was always the one who had my back.
Everyone hopped in, leaving me last. Hoots and hollers welcomed me as I rolled my eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth as I shook my head.
“Congratulations,” the pink-wearing chauffeur said as I placed a single foot inside. My eyes met his, first in confusion and then I realized what he meant.
Right…wedding.
“Oh, um. Thank you,” I answered awkwardly.
“Big day coming up soon?” he asked, a warm friendly smile on his face.
“Two weeks.”
“You must be excited. Mine’s in a month and I’m about to bounce off the walls.”
“Yep…that’s me,” I answered lamely, adding, “It’s a big day.”
I quickly sunk into the car, realizing I’d just regurgitated the words Sarah had said to me earlier. My big day. God, I hated those words.
What was wrong with me?
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Sarah announced, quieting everyone down, including my wayward thoughts. “We’ve got a VIP table at the hottest bar I could find downtown. We’re going to sit back, drink until everything and everyone looks fuzzy, dance our cute little asses off and not come up until the sun comes up. Deal?”
Trudy screamed. Tabitha looked nervous and I laughed.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out until the sunrise, and had serious doubts any of us—well except maybe Trudy—would actually make it past two, but I kept my opinions to myself.
Sarah had plans, and who was I to muck them all up?
Sunrise or bust. Sure, why the hell not?
The rest of the ride was a frenzy of talk. Everyone was feeding off the growing energy in the limo, and as we quickly approached the bar, our excitement was mounting.
“Okay, okay…everyone shush!” Trudy yelled, holding her hands up high in an effort to tame us. It looked a little strange, seeing her wave around her arms in a tight red dress, but it seemed to do the trick. She had us quiet and obedient in seconds.
“We need to decorate our bachelorette before we arrive at our designated location for the evening!” she announced, sounding more proper than I’d ever heard her sound before. “May I have the bag, please, Sarah?”
“You may.” Sarah grinned, handing off the plastic grocery bag I’d peeked at in my room.
Trudy pulled out a big, fluffy pink and black boa and placed it around my neck as they all clapped and cheered. I looked down at the monstrosity and gasped. Not only was it pink and sparkly, but it also had a penis-shaped shot glass tied to the bottom.
“You’re welcome,” Trudy smiled widely.
“I don’t even have words,” I groaned.
“Good, because we aren’t done yet.”
“Oh goody.”
“Tabitha, will you do the honors?” Trudy asked, pulling out a giant plastic tiara. Tabitha grinned and nodded, taking the seat next to me. Her eyes met mine as she carefully placed the pink crown that proudly displayed my bachelorette status across the top on my head.
“There,” she said. “Not quite the princess I’d always envisioned you to be, but it will work for tonight.”
“Hold on,” Trudy interrupted, reaching up and pushing something on my head. Suddenly everyone looked up and became animated once again.
“What?” I asked.
“Your crown—it lights up,” Tabitha explained.
“Oh, for the love of—”
“We’re here!” Sarah hollered.
Stepping out of our Pepto Bismol-colored limo was like walking the red carpet at the Oscars. Every single person waiting to get into the bar turned to see what crazy drunk girls would stumble out of it. My awesome friends went first, leaving me for the dramatic finale, dressed to the nines in my boa and flashing tiara.
I couldn’t wait until Sarah and Trudy got married.
Payback was hell.
People cheered as I walked past them. They fucking cheered. A couple of guys even offered to buy me drinks once I got inside. Apparently the idea behind a bachelorette party was beyond them.
As we made our way past the line, bypassing everyone because of our VIP status, I peered inside, hearing chants and cheers. There was a woman dressed similarly to me by the bar. Her shiny sash and glittery top hat made it overwhelmingly obvious she was here for the same purpose as me, as did the circle of half-drunken friends that surrounded her.
A shirtless man lay on the bar, his rock hard abs out on full display as the crowd’s cheers grew louder. I guessed very quickly that this was not her future husband.
We got our hands stamped and I lost sight of her for a moment as we made our way to our table. As we all sat down, I pointed her out to Sarah and the rest of the girls. She’d gathered her courage now, standing on a barstool, getting ready to take her shot.
“Shot, shot, shot!” rang out through the bar.
“If you guys make me do that, I will never speak to you again,” I said loudly over the booming music.
The all laughed, but the message was clear.
No body shots for Everly.
Gross.
My sister in bachelorette-hood bent down, placing her mouth over the stranger’s stomach and sucked the liquor right out of his belly button. The bar went wild. She came up laughing as a lime was placed in her mouth. A quick suck and she raised it up in the air triumphantly. The DJ switched up the song and everyone ran to the dance floor.
I could already tell it was going to be an interesting night.
Our own private server came to take our orders—a perk of our VIP table—and we all ordered. Right before she was leaving, Trudy called her back over and whispered something in her ear. I gave her a look and she just shrugged. “What?”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Nothing!” She feigned innocence as her smiled widened.
No one in this group was innocent tonight. Well, except maybe Tabitha. I looked over at my therapist-friend and giggled to myself as I noticed her silently watching the crowd.
Oh, the things that must be running through that head of hers. I could see her gaze slowly stopping at each small cluster or crowd, analyzing and accessing them—not judging like most would do, just deciphering and evaluating. It was almost scientific in its execution, but when you spoke to her she never seemed stiff or methodical.
On our table were request tickets for the DJ. We were seated right next to the booth, and could request anything we wanted because of our elevated status. The VIP area was completely booked for the evening, with many other tables celebrating various other achievements and events. I saw the glittery top hat bachelorette stumble back to a table in the back to a roar of laughter. I guess her friends were enjoying her humiliation.
I looked up at mine as they all filled out tickets, laughing about their song choices, and knew they wouldn’t leave me to the same fate. If I ever reached that level of drunkenness, they’d haul me back to the pink limo of shame and call it a night.
No one ever needed to be crawling across the dirty bar floor, shit-faced in a blinking tiara.<
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Our drinks arrived along with a dozen shots. I looked wide-eyed at Trudy who, once again, just shrugged.
“What?” she laughed.
“Are there more of us coming?” I grinned.
“Nope!”
“Okay then,” I said, grabbing one of the shots and taking it in one turn of my wrist. Everyone watched in amazement as I slammed the tiny glass down on the table.
“Sunrise or bust, right?” I said.
They all looked at me in confusion and I remembered I’d said that in my head, so I just raised my hands in the air and yelled, “I’m getting married!” figuring that was good enough.
Everyone joined in, each grabbing a shot. I chuckled as I watched Tabitha make a horrible face, her lips puckering together in disgust as the liquid fire burned down her throat.
“What was that?” she asked, shaking her head back in forth as if she were putting out flames in her head.
“Fireball,” Trudy answered.
“It’s intense.” She took a quick sip of her gin and tonic, her face instantly calming.
I wasn’t much of a fan of Fireball myself, but I’d had it enough to know what to expect. Looking down at my glass of merlot as the shot of liquor sloshed around in my stomach, I suddenly regretted my drink choice.
“Oh well,” I said to myself as I took a large sip. I didn’t have to work the next day.
And I was due for an epic hangover anyway, wasn’t I?
Good choices. I was definitely make very good choices.
Drinks were flowing, and song choices were in. We were off to a good start. As we waited for our perfect songs to come on to get us into the dancing mood, everyone slowly started pulling out their phones.
I watched as my Gilmore Girls nightmare happened before my eyes.
I was a Gilmore Girls junkie. I’d seen every episode, owned all the seasons on DVD. Whenever there was a rerun on TV, I still had to stop and watch it—even though I’d probably seen it a million times before. Lorelei and Rory were the ultimate mother-daughter duo and as someone who grew up not knowing what either role meant, I was always hungry for anything that would feed that gaping hole in my heart.
As I sat there, I saw Lorelei’s bachelorette party morph into mine—the episode where she’s about to marry…well, I don’t remember who honestly, but it’s some guy who isn’t Luke, and she’s at her bachelorette party and everyone there is calling and texting their honeys while she’s sitting there, just like me, wondering why she feels no desire to do so.
Sarah texted Miles. That was his name—Miles. I still hadn’t met him, but I at least knew his name now. Several months together—that was a record. She was smitten. I could see it on her face as she sent him message after message, while I sat there…doing nothing.
Tabitha texted her husband. I still didn’t know his name. After years of knowing her, I realized I didn’t know much at all about her. Did she do that on purpose to separate herself from her clients, or was I just a selfish person?
Note to self…find out more about Tabitha.
Even Trudy, the permanently single one, seemed to have someone special to talk to tonight, as her fingers flew across the keyboard and her face lit up in a devious smile. Things must be going well with the waiter.
Good Lord, I hope she was being careful, or at least using protection.
I looked down at my purse and considered texting Ryan, but what would I say?
We’re here…drank a shot of Fireball. Okay, bye.
I’d just never felt that need—that blinding, overwhelming desire to contact him, to run out and tell him everything that happened during my day.
Should I?
There was once a time when I couldn’t stop texting August. I’d tell him everything, from the way the trees smelled to the color of a flower I’d seen on a walk. Even my morning cup of coffee could spark a twenty-minute conversation. Why wasn’t it the same with the man I’d chosen to spend the rest of my life with?
Looking down at my glass of wine, I realized it was already gone and I was not nearly drunk enough for this train of thought. Reaching across the table, I grabbed one of the remaining shots of Fireball and tossed it back, followed by another, and then one more for good measure.
No one really seemed to notice. Everyone was far too busy, buried in their phones.
Maybe I should have used my penis shot glass. That might have gotten their attention.
“I’m going to the restroom and then I’m going to make a call,” I said, grabbing my phone.
“Ah, that’s so sweet!” Trudy said, her head tilting to the side.
“Hurry back, because I think our songs are coming up!” Sarah followed up.
“Will do!” I answered, finally feeling the effects of the liquor starting to kick in. I was always a lightweight when it came to alcohol. One glass, two tops, and I was a goner.
As I walked away from the table, my feet wobbled beneath me and I giggled as a plan formed in my befuddled mind.
I should not have been trusted with a phone.
Chapter Eight
August
I was half asleep on the living room couch, watching Ghostbusters when the phone rang. It was the second movie—the one with the creepy painting and all the green goo. I personally liked the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man better. You never could go wrong with an original.
Unless, of course it was me.
Clicking off the movie, I looked up at the clock on the small cable box and I noticed the time.
Midnight.
Considering I knew about five people in the city outside of clients, I immediately sat up, feeling wide awake as I wondered who could possibly be hurt or in trouble at this late hour.
I’d canceled on Magnolia. Again.
She’d graciously understood, telling me she would be here whenever I was ready.
She understood everything now that I’d told her the truth. It was a relief knowing I could stretch out our relationship longer, postponing the attachment I knew she was forming, but at the same time I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.
There was literally nothing I could do to drive her away. I was like a lost puppy to her, and all I needed was love and a good home and soon enough I would be healed and good as new.
Only, I wouldn’t.
Nothing would ever fix me. I was permanently broken.
Grabbing my phone off the coffee table, I saw the caller ID and groaned.
The reason for my brokenness, calling at midnight.
That could not be good.
Don’t answer it, I told myself, as my finger closed down on the green Accept button.
“Hello?” I said tentatively.
“You don’t love me, and I don’t think I love him.” Her voice was slurred. Loud music boomed in the background. “One big mess. So messy.”
“Everly?” I don’t know why I asked this. Maybe I was surprised at her words—her boldness. Maybe I just wanted to make sure it was really her on the other end.
“Yep. ’S me. Why’d you leave, August…Auggie.” She laughed. “You don’t like being called Auggie. But you probably already remember that. You remember everything now.”
She sounded sad about that little fact, but I let that go, focusing on bigger issues.
“Where are you?”
“Bar downtown. We’re celebrating me getting married.”
My heart sank as her words settled in place.
“You’re married?” I whispered.
“Nooooo.” Her voice, low and raspy, nearly sung the word as I breathed out a sigh of relief. “My bachelor party,” she slurred once again.
Bachelorette party, I interpreted. She wasn’t married yet. I shouldn’t care, but I did.
When it came to Everly, I would always care too much.
Even when she was some other man’s wife.
“Why are you calling me, Everly?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“I had to pee,” she began, pausing for a moment. I could imagine her
swaying back and forth in some darkened hallway. I hoped it was a safe one. “My friends were supposed to show me a good time tonight because I had to spend all day with my evil mother-in-law. Evil mother-in-law to-be,” she corrected herself. “She doesn’t like my hair. Or my pretty dress. Do you like my dress, Auggie?”
“I like everything about you,” I answered honestly, knowing she wouldn’t remember a damn thing about this conversation by morning. Remembering the few times we’d drunk way too much wine with dinner, I knew one thing about Everly.
She was a horrible drunk. She’d be out like a light in less than an hour and would wake up with a bitch of a hangover and little memory of the night before. It’s why she didn’t drink excessively. She hated the feeling of losing control.
Me? The way my life was going lately—drinking was the only thing that felt halfway like living.
“No you don’t,” she sighed. “You hate me, because of what I did—because of what I did to you. You know, I dream of that night sometimes?”
“Me too,” I replied.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so angry, and then we collided and you crumbled to the ground. I thought you were dead.” She was nearly frantic in her drunken haze as she recalled the events of that night.
“It’s okay, Everly,” I tried to say.
“No it’s not! I should have told someone then what happened. But I was so scared. What if they didn’t believe me? What if I went to jail? I don’t know why I did it—no, that’s not true. I do. I did it because I was scared I’d be taken away from you.”
Confusion blossomed in my mind. “But you left me anyway.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“You had to,” I said, realizing she’d done what was right. For both of us.
“We were toxic. So very toxic. I thought we could heal—when you came back, and didn’t remember anything. But we still fell apart. And now you hate me. And honestly, I wish I hated you too. I want to hate you. It would be so much easier.” He voice cracked, the pain in her words making my chest hurt.