by Jill Knapp
“Don’t ever take your relationship for granted. Recognize that being in love is special and that not everybody gets to feel that way in their life. If you truly love her, you need to work through the problems the two of you encounter. You can’t just walk out one day and bail on the relationship. Trust me, you’ll regret it.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” Aaron asked quietly?
“I don’t know,” I raised an eyebrow. “What I do know is that I have never seen you look so happy.”
“And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more miserable,” he countered. His eyes offered a comfort I hadn’t received from anyone in a long time. “What’s going on with you? Have you and Cassandra managed to patch things up yet?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Why?”
I paused for a moment, thinking about my answer. “Because, I don’t think she wants to try to be friends again. And worse, I’m not sure I want to either.” I turned my gaze to the floor. “I don’t like the person she’s become. I feel like if I met her now, without having being friends with her in the past, we wouldn’t like each other.”
Aaron leaned over and offered a supportive hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I muttered. “Some people show up early, playing a major role in your story and then exit. Some people you’ll meet later on, and they’ll stick it out with you till the end.”
Aaron nodded and patted me on the back for good measure. I sighed, wondering who else in my life was finishing out their role, and who was going to be there until the end. And then I wondered something worse.
I wondered if I had any control over it at all.
Eighteen – Olivia
I had gotten a phone call early Saturday morning from Amalia asking me to meet her for lunch at Sweet Revenge, a cute place known for its rustic appearance and artisan cupcakes. With no plans of my own, I happily agreed. Alex was out this morning for a jog and then heading to Trader Joe’s for some food shopping. How he could possibly stand to jog in thirty-degree weather was beyond me, but I figured it meant I had the bathroom all to myself, so I didn’t question it.
With only two days left in the year, I could honestly say I was looking forward to a fresh one. This would be the year I would graduate with my Master’s degree. This would be the year I would be getting married! I hummed around my apartment, filled with happiness and ease. I was nearly finished with all of my doctoral program applications and we had all taken our final exams last week. School wouldn’t resume again until the beginning of February. A whole month off from school. I resolved to finish what little what left of my applications and commit the rest of month of January to wedding planning.
At around eleven-thirty I took the overhead tram into Manhattan and then hailed a cab down to the West Village. As I turned the corner onto Carmine Street I saw Amalia standing outside waiting for me. I shivered at the harsh wind, curious as to why she’d be waiting outside in this weather. She was wearing a cream- colored coat that I have never seen before. I couldn’t tell what her outfit underneath looked like, but I saw from the bottom half that she had on black tights and high heels. Her blonde hair was down and curly again. Her make-up was minimal, apart from some black eyeliner on her lower lash line. She was starting to look like herself again. She was standing on the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets, shivering slightly.
“Hey!” I called to her from ten feet away. I waved a gloved hand and her face lit up when she saw me.
“How’s your morning been?” she took her hands out of her pockets and began rubbing them together.
“Good,” I answered with a shrug. “Having a lazy day.”
“Your hair is getting so long,” she said out of nowhere. She reached for a strand of my hair and I teasingly swatted her away.
“Growing it out for the wedding,” I took my gloves off and ran my fingers through my extra-long, brown hair. At this point, it fell straight down to the middle of my back. “I figure I’ll have more options for what I want to do with it at a longer length.”
“Speaking of your wedding,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Have you picked out your bridesmaids’ dresses?” She reached for the door handle and pulled it open slightly.
“I’m thinking something in the lime-green family? Or the brightest pink I can find.”
“You’re hilarious,” she muttered. “Either way, we have to go to this place called Vanity Projects to get our nails done the day before. Their salon is supposed to be the best in the city!”
“One step at a time!” I laughed.
We walked through the front door, but the whole place was empty.
“Are you sure they’re open?” I looked around for an hours-of-operation sign.
A moment later, a chorus of people yelled “Surprise!” and I screamed. Clutching my chest with one hand, I lightly swatted Amalia with my other one. One after another, the guests let go of their pink and purple balloons, allowing them to fly freely up to the ceiling.
Once my heart rate had returned to a normal speed I looked around the room, taking in my surroundings. There were glass towers on all of the tables holding about ten cupcakes each. In addition to the sweets, each place setting was already set with a salad and a wine glass. Just as I was about to open my mouth to comment, Amalia handed me a flute of champagne.
“In case you haven’t figured it out, this is your bridal shower.”
“I can see that,” I uttered, feeling my eyes tear up from joy. I was so touched that she went through so much trouble to do this.
“I can’t believe you thought through this entire thing yourself!” I said, still standing in utter disbelief.
“Well, I can’t take all of the credit,” she replied. “Your dad actually did a lot of the work. He supplied me with the phone numbers and addresses of the women in your family. He also paid to rent out this place. We have it all to ourselves for three hours.”
My dad was nowhere to be seen. He probably felt it best to show up at the end and help with the gifts. There was a pile of them on a small table next to a chair. Traditionally, the bride sits down in front of her guests and opens all of her gifts while her maid of honor writes down who gave what – making it easier to send out thank-you cards later on. Everyone ooh’s and ah’s at the Corningware dishes, the Lenox silverware, or the lingerie from that one aunt who always acts just a little crazy.
Amalia squeezed my arm lightly and then motioned toward the back of the room. There, in a fitted blazer, pearls around her neck, and high heels on her feet, sat my mother. She was nursing a glass of champagne and was looking around the room. No one was sitting next to her and I felt a pang of sadness for her. I put the champagne flute down on a neighboring table and crossed over to my mom.
“Hi, Mom,” I said softly. I slowly pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Why would you be surprised to see your own mother at your bridal shower?” she asked, an edge to her voice.
Of course she wasn’t going to make this easy.
I pursed my lips together and shook my head. “That’s a good question, Mom.” She lowered her head and I reached for her hand. I let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Why are you acting like this? Are you really so unhappy that I’m getting married?”
“No,” she met my gaze. “I am honestly feeling like you’ve grown up to be this amazing person, and I can’t take a single ounce of credit for it.”
Stunned at her honesty, I was unsure of what to do. Should I offer her a hug? Lie, and say she did have a part in it? Or did we both accept that this is the truth, that she hadn’t been a part of my life in quite some time now.
“Mom,” I started, unsure of where I was going with this. “I know we haven’t been in each other’s lives very much lately. But if you’re open to it, I would really like to remedy that.”
“How?” she asked. It was a good question. How do you just erase years of problems? Arguments?
Or even worse, silence?
“I know we can’t change what has been done,” I answered. “But I would really like to try to move forward with you. Maybe we can start by you helping me out with some of my wedding planning?”
“I didn’t realize you needed any help,” she raised an eyebrow. “You seem so well put together.”
I laughed so hard my eyes started to water. “Mom, I am drowning over here. Between schoolwork, the move into Alex’s apartment, planning the wedding, and planning for my future, I can hardly remember what day it is. Of course I need help!” I folded my hands and placed them on my lap. “And I’d be lying if I said that picture of Alex hugging that girl hasn’t been in the back of my mind ever since you showed it to me. I am not well put-together, I am hanging on by a thread.”
“I’m sorry, Olivia. I honestly didn’t mean to start trouble for the two of you. I think the best thing to do would be to directly ask him about it. Get it over and done with so you can focus on other things. And just so you know, the gown you picked to be married in is very beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I gave her hand a little squeeze. “And if you’re not too busy in the up-coming weeks, maybe you can help me get a handle on the seating chart!”
“Of course,” she smiled.
I heard the door open and watched as a few more guests arrived. Family members I hadn’t seen in years, and never would have expected to make the trip out to New York.
“I had better go make the rounds,” I said. “I am really glad you came, Mom.”
“I am too,” she said, tears forming in her eyes.
I turned on my heel and headed toward the front of the restaurant, where Amalia was standing, tossing a roll of toilet paper up and down.
“What is that for?” I asked, following the toilet paper roll with my eyes.
“It’s for later, when we wrap you up in it,” she laughed.
“Like a mummy?”
“Duh! No, like a bride.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I laughed.
Amalia dropped the toilet paper roll onto the table and wrapped her arms about me. “Seriously, Olivia, it’s a good thing you made me your maid of honor! What would you do without me?”
I returned the hug, swaying her tiny frame back and forth.
I sighed heavily as I looked around the room at this wonderful gathering she had prepared for me.
“I honestly have no idea.”
Nineteen – Amalia
“We took our final exams for the first semester a couple of days after I saw you last,” I said to Autumn.
The day after Olivia’s bridal shower, I attended my last therapy session until school picked back up in February. I was happy to throw the shower for her and she really seemed to love it. But I did feel a sadness while I was there with her. It felt like Olivia has always been one step ahead of me in life. Maybe I should be talking to Autumn about this instead of school, which was always our primary topic of conversations.
“How do you think you did?” she had a pensive look on her face.
I took a deep breath and thought for a second. “I actually think I did pretty well. Despite all of the stress I had this semester, I still managed to get all of my work in on time and study as hard as I could for every exam.”
“What do you think you’re GPA will be?”
“I am hoping for a three point five,” I said. “I may be a tad optimistic to think that way, but fingers crossed!”
She let out a small laugh and it surprised me. It was the first time she offered me a smile that wasn’t laced with smugness. I couldn’t help but notice how straight her teeth were. Momentarily self-conscious about my own appearance, I pulled my navy-blue cardigan a little tighter around my chest.
“Amalia,” she pulled her chair a bit closer to mine. “Is it okay that I sit over here?”
“That’s fine,” I replied with apprehension, not really sure where this was going.
“I want you to know that I am not here to judge you. My methods may seem a bit too firm at times, but truly I am here for your support.”
“I appreciate that, Autumn. But as I said when we began therapy, I didn’t choose to be here. Dr. Greenfield forced my hand.”
“And how do you feel about therapy now?”
I paused for a moment. It was an interesting question because our last two sessions weren’t as dreadful as the first few.
“I can say I feel a little better about it,” I said. “But I still don’t love the idea of spilling all of my private life to someone I hardly know.”
She offered me a smile and an understanding nod.
“Amalia,” she began. “Last week when I asked you what it was that you loved about Michael, why you wanted to be with him so badly, it was because the two of you seem to have a very unstable relationship with one another.”
“That’s not true,” I snapped. Immediately feeling defensive of both myself and Michael.
“From what you’ve told me, you began this relationship in secret. He had a girlfriend at the time. You put your relationship with Hayden in jeopardy too when you slept with Michael. And now that the two of you are both free to be together, he doesn’t seem too committed to your relationship. I just don’t see how it could work.”
I sat there stunned. The way she laid out the details of our time together for me, it sounded horrible. Worse yet, it sounded incredibly juvenile.
“Look, I know it might seem like I am chasing after someone who will never be with me. And I’ll admit, sometimes it does feel that way to me. Having said that, I do love Michael. I love how smart he is, how he’s always challenging me. I love his refined demeanor and how incredibly adult he is compared to most other guys my age. I love that he has goals for his life and he stops at nothing to achieve them. Even if it means–” I drifted off.
“Even if it means you’ll never truly be a priority in his life?” she challenged.
I shook my head defiantly. “No, you’re wrong. I am a priority in his life.”
“Amalia, I am not saying this to anger you. But, think about it, why hasn’t he fully committed to you yet?”
“He’s not ready,” I replied. Plain and simple. “He and I will be together once he’s ready. There’s a lot to consider, neither of us knows where we are going to be next year.”
“You mean in terms of school?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“But haven’t you all applied to programs in the New York area?”
“We have,” I answered. “But Michael has also applied to a few others out of state.”
“I see,” she said, a grimace on her face. “You need to make sure you’re making the right decisions for yourself.”
Who else would I be making them for?
For someone who was supposed to remain neutral and composed, she sure had no problem letting me know how much she disliked my decisions. I checked the clock. Ten more minutes of this and I’d be free from her until next semester.
“Honestly, I’m exhausted,” I said, my shoulders sinking. “I just finished finals week and threw my friend Olivia a bridal shower a couple of days ago. What I need is to go home and take a nap.” I began to collect my things, not caring that we were meant to continue for ten more minutes. “I am going home, Autumn. I will see you in the beginning of February. I hope you have a good New Year’s Eve.”
Before she could answer, I turned on my heel and darted out of her office.
Twenty – Olivia
For New Year’s Eve, we all decided to skip the parties and the bars and just get together at my and Alex’s apartment for some drinks. I had spent the day making appetizers for the group, and baking cookies to go with them. I was really surprised that Alex didn’t put up more of a fight when I suggested staying in for the holiday. He would usually rant and rave about how we’d be “missing out” on all New York has to offer by staying in. But even he agreed we were too wiped out from finals and wedding planning to spend the night at some over
priced club.
At around nine-thirty, I poured myself a glass of red wine, the champagne chilling in the fridge for later.
“You look very pretty,” Alex had snuck up behind me and slid his arms around my waist. A warm rush of blood surrounded my heart. Two years and I still got butterflies from him.
“Thank you,” I turned around to face him. Standing on my toes, I offered him a kiss. A small sigh escaped my lips as he cupped my face in his hands. His lips barely touching mine, I whispered, “It’s easy to pull off a little black dress in twenty-degree weather when you don’t have to leave your home.”
“Well you definitely pull it off,” he took a step back. His eyes scanned me from top to bottom and I could feel myself blush. He took both of my hands, whispering, “And later, I’m going to pull it off.” I drew in a quick breath and bit my lip. Looking up at him through my eyelashes, I pulled on his arms to draw him in closer.
As soon as I leaned in to kiss him, my mother’s words popped into my mind. I knew I had to ask him now.
“Alex,” I started. I need to ask you about something.”
His brow furrowed as he considered my words. “From the look on your face, this doesn’t seem like it’s going to go well.”
“That’s really up to you,” I countered.
I took a deep breath and spat it out.
“A few months ago, my mother showed me a picture of you hugging a girl with long red hair.” I tried to gauge how Alex was feeling by his reaction. But he had none. “We’ve been together long enough for me to know all of your friends. So I guess what I’m asking is, who was that girl?”
As if on cue, there was a knock on our door. Alex looked at me with a blank expression on his face. I raised an eyebrow, indicating that I would make whoever was at the door wait a minute for the truth.
Alex didn’t seem to care or notice. Turning on his heel, he reached for the door. For now we would have to shelve this discussion. We had guests to tend to.
Amalia was the first to arrive. Her hair was blown out straight again and it looked very blonde next to her shiny silver dress. The hem stopped just above her knees, so although the dress was very form-fitting, it wasn’t too short. Her eyes were rimmed with black eye-liner, and her lips were painted a glossy pink. No tights (she must have been freezing outside!), and black high heels. I was sure her sexy look was for Michael, who had already told Alex he was running a bit late.