Always the Last to Know (Always the Bridesmaid)

by Bowling, Crystal

  “My bed isn’t here, Riley. And your couch is like sleeping on death.”

  “You can sleep in my bed.”

  Wha… Really? Did he just say that I can sleep with him? Is God siding with me on something? Is this my life’s happiness forming right here, right now in Riley’s driveway?

  No, of course not. I know exactly what it is.

  “You’ve been watching zombie movies again, haven’t you?”

  “What?” He scoffs, “No, I did not watch any zombie movies.” I raise an eyebrow at him. He throws his arms up in the air, “Fine. The Sci-Fi channel was having a zombie movie marathon and I’ve been watching it since five o’clock today and I’m terrified. Happy?”

  Well, it’s not a confession of love. It’s just a harmless invite to a sleepover triggered by Riley’s irrational fear of brain-eating zombies. This doesn’t mean anything to him. But it’s something to me.

  I nod, “Yeah. I am happy.”

  Eleven

  Thursday, July 2nd

  “I am going to miss you so much!”

  I smile at Annie as I walk to my teller window, “I know, I’m going to miss you too.”

  “I got you a going-away gift.” Annie tells me over her shoulder as she retrieves a large, bright pink binder from under the unused coat rack.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything.” I give her a hug, thank the high Heavens that she isn’t giving me a sex toy, and take the binder out of her hands. Opening to the first page, I look at her, “What is this?”

  She rolls her eyes, “You need this more than I thought you did. This binder contains photocopies of what I think are the most important articles Cosmo has ever published, in regards to men and sex.”

  I flip through a few of the pages of sex positions and foreplay suggestions before closing the binder. “I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.” I give her another hug, “I love it; thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I just thought that. . .” She pulls away from me, but keeps her hands on my shoulders. “You slept with a guy last night!”

  “What? No I didn’t.”

  She takes a sniff of my hair, “You smell like aftershave and cheap soap. You slept with someone.”

  I groan, annoyed. “I just stayed at Riley’s last night.”

  It takes all of Annie’s strength not to squeal. And even though she’s bouncing from foot to foot, she is doing a remarkable job of keeping a completely somber face, save for her drawn-up on eyebrows shooting up near her hairline. I have to say, I’m quite impressed.

  “You slept with Riley?”

  “I slept at Riley’s.”

  She looks me up and down, “You were in his bed.”

  “The couch is really uncomfortable to sleep on.”

  Annie crosses her arms, “You and Riley shared a bed last night and nothing happened?” I nod. “You mean, you stayed on your side of the bed and he stayed on his side of the bed?” I nod again. She begins pacing in front of me, arms still crossed, “Nothing happened? No kissing, no touching, no oral, no dry lovin’, no nothing?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  “Ew.”

  I don’t know why she’s saying ‘ew’. It was actually really nice sharing a bed with Riley last night. When we had went to bed, we had stuck to our separate sides, and just laid there and talked until we were mumbling somewhat coherent words back and forth. It was so comfortable. Even though I had all this stuff going through my mind about Riley and how I felt about him, I was still comfortable laying across from him in the dark. Even when I woke up in the morning to find his arm draped over me, not in a kung-fu grip like last time, I was still comfortable. And completely in love with him.

  Annie leans against the counter, “I don’t get it. You’re twenty-two and Riley’s, what, twenty-five? You both are in your sexual prime. And here you two are, sharing a bed with no action going on under the covers.”

  I shrug, “We’re not fifteen anymore; we can control ourselves. Besides, it’s not like Riley wants to do anything with me, or to me, or for me anyway.”

  I meet Annie’s eyes and immediately give myself away. She cocks her head to the side for a second before her eyes get wide and her smile brightens.

  “I knew it! You love Riley!”

  “Annie, shh. . .” I frantically look around the bank. The lobby is empty and the woman running the drive-thru window looks at us for only a second before turning back to the customer waiting in their car.

  Annie places a hand, with nails painted fire-engine red – I wish I could pull off that color – on her hip and stares at me, “Well, do you love him?”

  I think about running away, just sprinting out the front door. It’s my last day; what are they going to do? Fire me?

  But I don’t run. I can’t.

  I nod, “Yeah, I do love him.”

  Annie’s excitement is obvious but she is still doing well to act calm. Her voice is still a little high pitched when she asks, “Does Riley know?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. I sure as hell haven’t told him, if that’s what you mean.”

  She nods, “Well, are you going to tell him?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m kind of hoping that this feeling just goes away. It’s Riley, and I shouldn’t feel like this.”

  “Why not? You’ve grown up together. You know all the good and bad things about each other. And he’s your best friend. Honey, people go their whole lives looking for someone to love, someone to love who is their best friend. And here you are, pushing away what so many would kill for.” She rubs my arm, “You can’t run away from something so great.”

  Leave it to Annie to be insightful.

  “So I have to tell him?”

  “You have to tell him.”

  “I know I have to tell him.” I say as I lay my head down on the counter. I mumble into the counter, “I’m just so afraid of his response.”

  If he doesn’t like me past a platonic level, then I will screw up the longest friendship either of us have ever had.

  If Riley loves me too, then I’ll have this fear of messing up. Because, if I screw up, like I always do, then I lose my love, my best friend, and would have to move out. Not that moving out compares with losing Riley or anything, I’m just looking at the big hypothetical picture here.

  And if I break up with her brother, Carla would hate me and would take away my godmother rights of little Madeline. True that Carla and Evan haven’t given me title of godmother, nor have they taken into consideration any of the baby names that I have suggested, but still. . . I don’t want to lose my friendship with Carla and my pseudo niece or nephew all because Riley and I don’t work as a couple.

  “His response is going to be based on how you tell him.” Annie explains. “Do you know how you’re going to do that?”

  “Not at all. I just know that it’s going to be after Carla’s wedding.” I raise my head up and lean against the counter to fill Annie in on Carla’s need for attention on her wedding day, something that Annie seems to understand, having been a blushing bride at one point herself.

  Annie’s voice shoots up and she begins talking with her hands, “Okay, so here’s my idea. You’re at Riley’s place and you two are sitting on the couch watching TV. Out of nowhere, you straddle Riley’s hips and take off your shirt. . .”

  “I don’t think that’s the best way to go about it.”

  Annie smirks, “If there’s a topless girl on him, he won’t say ‘no’ to anything.”

  “So, I should just let my barely-there-may-as-well-be-concave boobs do the talking?”

  “God gave ‘em to you for a reason.”

  “I don’t think that’s the reason.”

  She rolls her eyes, “Do you want all this to end well?”

  “Yes. But I don’t think flashing Riley is the best way to tell him that I love him.”

  “You love Riley?!”

  Shit.

  I turn around slowly t
o see Evan on the other side of the teller’s window.

  Double shit.

  “Evan. Hi.” I try to smile, but it’s incredibly hard to smile when you feel like you’re going to throw up, so I end up with some sort of grimace on my face. Evan just stares at me, silent. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  He continues to stand there, quiet. He doesn’t even grunt.

  “Okay, Evan, you need to say something.”

  “I need to make a withdrawal from my account.” He looks down as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket.

  “Evan. . .”

  “Shit, Jess. Why don’t you look around before saying stuff like that?”

  Wow, Evan and I have the same thought process. Creepy.

  “I’m sorry, Evan. It just slipped.” I gasp, “You can’t tell Carla. Or Riley! Or anyone. Except Matt. Matt knows all about this.”

  Evan looks taken aback, but he has a look of amusement on his face. “You expect me to keep a secret from my fiancée?”

  I put my head back on the counter, “I’m a terrible person, a horrible friend, and the worst Maid of Honor ever.”

  I can’t believe this. Why in the hell couldn’t I have just taken a quick look across the lobby? It would have taken all of a second. Oh, I am so stupid.

  “It’s not like Carla doesn’t already know.”

  My head flies up, “What?”

  “Carla knows that you love Riley. She’s known for years, even before you.” Looking at my appalled face, he continues, “Don’t worry, Riley doesn’t know you love him. He’s fucking clueless about it.” He blushes, “Don’t tell Carla I dropped the F-bomb.”

  “Don’t tell Carla that I love her brother and we’ve got a deal.”

  “But she already knows that you love him.”

  “Which is why there’s no need to remind her.” I smile the best presidential, shit-eating grin I can muster.

  Evan shakes his head, “I don’t know. She’s my fiancée; I can’t lie to her.”

  “Really?” I cross my arms and smile at him, “Then what really happened when you went on the Girls Gone Wild bus last spring break in Miami?”

  “You got yourself a deal.” He shakes my hand. “You and Riley are meant for each other, I swear to God.”

  I smile and get the money from his account. He heads for the front door to leave, but stops to turn around and smile at me.

  “By the way, telling Riley that you love him by flashing him would totally work.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “How do you think Carla got me to stop putting my feet on the coffee table?” He laughs at my appalled face and walks out of the bank.

  What the hell?

  ***

  “Why are you sitting in your closet crying?” I ask Carla after following the sound of her crying to find her tucked in between a suitcase and a pink pair of Jessica Simpson sling-backs with a tissue crumpled in her hand.

  “My… my… hairdresser broke her arm!” She shouts before breaking out into open sobbing.

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I know!” Carla blows her nose into the tissue. “That clumsy bitch just destroyed my wedding day!”

  I tempted to ask Carla when she lost her soul, but decide that now is not the best time for that. I’m also refraining to mention to her that I am a bit of klutz as well, and breaking our arms and spraining our ankles is not something we do on purpose.

  I crouch down next to her, “You can find another hairdresser.”

  She blows her nose again, “Not as good as Mandy, I won’t.” I assume that Mandy is the poor girl with the broken arm being called bad names. Carla adds, “And I won’t find anyone available for Saturday to fix everyone’s hair.”

  “Don’t be a Negative Nancy. Come on and get out of your closet. Between the two of us, surely to God we can find someone available to make you even more stunning than you already are for your wedding day.”

  I stand back up, having lost the feeling in my legs from squatting down. Carla crawls out of her closet and stands up as well.

  We find the nearest phonebook and split the list of salons in half. I had no idea this town had so many bloody salons. It’s like an infestation of hair styling. I also had no idea how popular it is to visit a hair salon on a Saturday. No one is available at the salons I call and, since Carla is still frantically punching numbers in on her phone to the next-to-last salon in the phonebook, I don’t think that she’s having any luck either.

  “Hi, this is Carla Callahan. Is there anyone available for a Saturday hair appointment for a wedding party?” … “There is?” … “Is he able to work on-location?” … “Me, the bride, and two bridesmaids.” … “I would be glad to come in and discuss options. Thank you so much!” Carla smacks me in the arm and gives me a thumbs-up symbol, thinking that I hadn’t been eavesdropping on her conversation. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Thank you so much!” She hangs up her phone and hugs me viciously.

  “I take it you found someone to fix your hair?” I croak out, unable to breathe from being crushed by her hug.

  She lets go of me, her eyes welling with tears. “Yeah.” After clearing her throat, she asks, “Do you want to go with me to meet him?”

  “Nah. I need to stay here and work on some things before Evan and Riley move my bed out tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Carla grabs her purse and heads for the door. She stops and smiles at me, “Thank you so much, Jess.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yes, you did.” She says matter-of-factly before leaving.

  Oh, I hope that hairstylist doesn’t suck.

  ***

  Jess’ To-Do List:

  1. Pick up fruit tray, veggie tray, and cake for the bachelorette party tomorrow morning.

  2. Remove celery from veggie tray as it causes Carla to get sick.

  3. Try to figure out how celery – which has no smell or taste – can make one sick just by looking at it.

  4. Not let it slip that the flower girl has chicken pox. I’ve already called Carla’s mom, the make-up artist for the wedding, and she promises to lay the foundation on thick. Hopefully the flower girl won’t look like a drag queen.

  5. Try to figure out a way to tell Riley that I love him without having to show him my boobs.

  “What are you up to?” Carla asks, plopping down next to me on the couch. Her hair is styled perfectly from her visit to the salon. Evidently the hairstylist, Brian, is something of a genius with hair. And Carla might be a little bit in love with him.

  I close the notebook I’m writing in before she can see what I’ve written about Riley. From what I can tell, Evan hasn’t told her about what happened today at the bank. And I’m glad of that but I also want to know just how in the hell she knew about me loving Riley before I knew. Better yet, how does everyone else seem to know about this except for me? Matt knew, Annie knew, Carla knew… even Evan knew it. And that’s scary.

  “Nothing, just writing out what all I need to do before the wedding.”

  She nods, “You know, I thought I had this all planned out. The day after Evan proposed, I started planning the wedding. I never thought the day would get here. And now that it’s so close, I’ve realized that I haven’t focused on the important stuff.”

  “Like what? You’ve been completely militaristic about this wedding. You’ve looked over every single detail with an anal-retentiveness that the world has ever seen. What didn’t you focus on?”

  Carla sighs, “The marriage. No one thinks about the marriage. It’s all about the wedding and the honeymoon and the gifts and the pictures. And, now that I’m thinking about all the stuff I haven’t thought of yet, I’m terrified.”

  “It’s going to be okay, Carla. You just have a case of cold feet. You and Evan are perfect for each other. You know that. And as long as you believe in each other, you two can make it through anything.”

  She blinks at me, completely astounded. “Have you been watching Dr. Phil?”

&nbs
p; I stick out my tongue. “I’m offended by that.” But I don’t see any reason to correct her and say that I was perusing through the self-help section of Barnes and Noble today on my lunch break.

  She mutters a quick apology before changing the subject. “I can’t believe that Evan and Riley are at a strip club together.” Carla shakes her head and laughs, “Riley and all of Evan’s football player friends. You know that he’s absolutely miserable right now.”

  “I’m sure that the strippers are making him a little happy.”

  I do feel bad for Riley, even if he is at a strip club. He has to be at a strip club with Evan’s buddies, and that’s a fate that he wouldn’t put on anyone, even Matt who he apparently hates. Of course, Matt has to be there too. Poor Riley, stuck at a strip joint with Matt and all of Evan’s moronic football player friends. At Evan and Carla’s engagement party, Riley spent most of the party in the tree house in his mom’s backyard. I know this because I was hiding out there first. I hate Evan’s friends too.

  Riley and I sat out there on the tree house’s balcony until the stars came out and it got too cold to stay outside. To keep me out there longer, Riley took off his UK zip-up hoodie and gave it to me. It’s seven months later and I’m just now appreciating the gesture.

  And I just remembered that I never gave him his hoodie back. Oops.

  Riley and I hate Evan’s friends for all the same reasons: they’re cocky, they’re loud, they lack a filter between their stupid brain and their stupid mouth, they spend countless hours in the gym and, before they go to bed, they kiss the picture of Chuck Norris that they keep on their nightstand (I assume), and they’re just complete assholes.

  It’s strange that Riley and I hate those guys since Riley is known to be a loud, cocky asshole from time to time and I like Riley, all of Riley, even the loud, cocky asshole side of him.

  I kind of loathe myself for that.

  “You’re not doing anything crazy for my bachelorette party tomorrow, are you?” When I shake my head, she sighs, obviously relieved, “Good. I don’t think I can take too many more surprises before the wedding.” She chuckles and rubs her stomach.