This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad

by Ngontang Mba, Danielle-Claude

  “Take a deep breath and raise your arms slowly,” our yoga instructor says.

  Flexibility has never been an issue with the women in our family. We’ve been professional dancers for the past hundred years. But yoga sessions with Jubilee have always proven to be trickier. She’s challenging her pupils all the time. I’m doing fine though, unlike Noor next to me, still struggling with her static squad. Static squad; easy one, sister! What’s up with her today anyway? I quickly stick my tongue out at her.

  “Now, slowly raise your right leg. Very slowly…” Jubilee executes the new pose at the same time. Here comes the challenging part. I’m raising my leg very slowly, breathing in, tightening my stomach; blasted Jubilee, every single time there’s a twist. No time to check on Noor now. Okay, now let’s try to keep the pose for a few more seconds.

  “Good, ladies. Very good. Now slowly rise up on your right leg, keeping the pose,” she says again. Real torturer she is. She rises, executing the move perfectly.

  “Are you freaking kidding me!” Noor screams, half out of breath. “I’m not doing it!”

  Jubilee winks. She fucking winks while we suffer! Why do we keep going back there? Each session we say it’s our last time. Thank God we only have a few minutes left.

  “For those who make it up, please change to the Tree position. Breathe in and out, in…out. Go to the Warrior pose. Raise your leg slowly and…cool down routine.”

  Time for more stretching, Noor is finally relaxing. We roll out our mats and head to the showers. I did good. No, I did great! All my poses, no falling and a lot of sweating.

  “What’s with you today? You’re the one who wanted to come. I’m usually the grumpy one,” I ask Noor. I look at us in the mirror. We’re both wearing the same dark-grey bodysuits down to our knees, our hair in a tight chignon. Noor, Lucia. Lucia, Noor – we look like twins today.

  “What’s with you? You’re so jolly. I even think you lost weight.” She turns away and hits the showers.

  Please Noor, just send all that love my way.

  I take a quick shower and get dressed. Noor meets me at my car, still very silent. Should I let her in? She’s family; she deserves to at least plea her case. I let her in.

  “So, I’m not that sorry,” she tells me as I’m driving us through Bayview Village. “But I’m sorry. I’m stressed and you haven’t been here lately. ”

  Okay. I take that for now. I’ve been working a lot on the album this past eight weeks and with Beesly as my roommate, I have been neglecting my sisterly duties a little. Still, a bit of silent treatment would do no harm. I turn the music on, concentrating on the road.

  “Where’s your new best friend today anyway?” she asks.

  I’m parking the car, still not answering her. I’m supposed to be the baby of the family not the other way around. I get out of my dark-red Lexus and walk toward the mall, still silent.

  “Stop it right there, Luce!” she commands behind me. And here we go. “You suck at yoga. You couldn’t even fit in this outfit when I bought the same size for both of us by accident last year. Speak!” She crosses her arms. “Now.”

  “What’s our spending limit today?” Yes, I’m avoiding this. She will only get angrier. We’re searching for shoes and outfits for her press release party next week. She will be on the cover of a very famous dance magazine. “A grand? Two? It’s your party.”

  “Alright then. Let’s go. Even sharing is off the table now.” She walks past me and into the mall. “Two. Each.”

  “In a spending mood today?” I enter our favorite designer store in there. “Let’s see what they have for us.” I find a few dresses to try for Noor, all less than a thousand dollars. I don’t care what she said; Lelly would have my head.

  “What do you think?” She’s wearing a very short, light-blue, empire-cut dress with spaghetti straps. “It showcases my legs and they are fantastic, and will be even better by Friday.”

  “In six days? They’re pretty perfect-looking now.” They really are. I wish I had those legs. Oh wait; I bloody do now. “How much?” I check the price. “Nine hundreds! And before tax!”

  “It’s haute couture!” She goes back to the changing room. “I’m buying it. You?”

  “I’ll look around some more.” I walk around and stop in front of the sexiest piece of clothing I have ever seen. A black, three-piece tuxedo jacket, blazer and black, sleek capri pants. I’ve got to try this. In the dressing room, I take a deep breath. “Noor, t’es la?”

  “Yeah? Show me.”

  It fits perfectly and shows all my curves but covered all at the same time. I may have to put a dress shirt or tank top under or not, but my partially covered legs look so lean with a nice pair of high stilettos, maybe dark red.

  “Luce…this is…” Noor starts crying. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “Honey, so are you. We’re pretty identical-looking you know.” I hug her. My poor sweetie; she is stressed. “You like it? Picture me wearing it while walking you down in the aisle.”

  “Yes, yes, yes! A thousand time yes!” she walks around me. “You’re hot and will be so hot. On my day!” She sticks her tongue out. “I’m sorry, I’ve been an idiot. You look happy and I love it. Mostly, I love you, Luce.

  “I love you too, Nooradine. And it’s my day a little too; I have to give you away to some bloke.”

  “Hey, Andrew is more than just some bloke. He’s my bloke.”

  I walk back in the changing room. I still haven’t found an outfit for next week.

  “How much?” Noor asks

  “About that… Twenty-five hundred,” I tell her through the doors.

  I can hear her laughing. “Axelle is so going to chew your head off, Luce.”

  “I’m really aware of that and thanks for the support, big sis!”

  “Try this one,” Noor says, gently throwing a dress over the door. It’s a dark-turquoise, silky, taffeta tube dress with no straps. What, don’t I get straps? I’m going to spend the night adjusting it. But when I put it on it fits. I don’t even need a bra and for a D cup; it’s almost unheard of. The princess-cut neckline covers them more than enough. Nice choice, Noor!

  “So?” Noor asks.

  “It’s a bit short; a good five to seven inches off my knees.”

  “Does it fit?”

  “Yes and I don’t even need another bra. I need to take it in a little. What about the budget?”

  “It’s seven hundred with taxes; you’re safe – this time. Now get out of there; we need to accessorize.”

  I meet her at the cashier, where she has already paid for both our purchases with the wedding debit card account. Axelle is going to flip! She stops me in front of the store. “That dress is a couture size four. Talk! Now!”

  “Alright! Beesly has introduced me to this cleansing ritual; much better than the one we do after drinking. We’ve been drinking it three times a day for the past three weeks. It just flushes toxins.”

  “You’re dieting?” Noor looks so disgusted, it’s funny. “This is not a laughing matter. We’re Riddell; we don’t diet; we don’t need to. We lose it by dancing.”

  We keep walking and enter another store.

  “I eat as bad as always. Hence the need for cleansing myself.” I take a necklace from the shelf. “Not bad with your dress?” Noor takes it and tries. “About yoga; Beesly has this famous instructor who comes every other day –”

  “You’re cheating on me with that Beesly! Have you been dancing behind my back too?” She puts the necklace back and reaches for another one. “Can I have the recipe?”

  “Ask Beesly. I have no idea what’s in there. We have it delivered to my place each week. And I’m not dieting! Stop spreading rumors.”

  She’s trying another one with matching earrings. “But you’re dancing again?”

  “I never really stopped. But yes, I seriously started again two weeks ago when Greg was here. I have been going to the studio everyday ever since. No big deal!” But we both know that it is a
big deal. I’m the only one who hasn’t made a living off dancing in our entire Riddell Clan at some point in our lives. “But enough about me. How are you?”

  Noor sights loudly. “Tired, anxious, stressed; you name it, I feel it. Would you believe that, in twelve weeks, I won’t be an Mpobo-Riddell anymore?”

  “Uh da…yes I could. You legally changed it to Mpobo only ten years ago.”

  She takes the receipt of her purchase from the cahier and we head to the next store. Time for shoes. I don’t want to try anything before checking my closet. Noor sits with a few dozen choices in from of her. “I don’t know about this anymore?”

  What is she talking about? The shoes? The name? The wedding?

  “This marriage thing,” she tells me. She’s not looking at me but her feet in very slivery Manalo Blonick.

  “Are you and Andrew okay?” I sit next to her.

  “We’re good. But his family is a little too excited about the wedding for my comfort. This makes me think about what comes next. My new life as a wife and we’re not agreeing on it all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She doesn’t answer but tries a couple more shoes on until she finds the perfect pair. We pay for them and that’s another six hundred spent. We’re the Rockefellers today. Axelle is going to die! I check my phone, it’s already 3.00 p.m. I’m famished. I see that we’re done with shopping; I would really like a sandwich, so we find a table in a burger place nearby.

  “I’ll get us something to eat. What do you want?” Noor asks.

  I look at the menu. “A double angus with avocado, blue cheese and extra pickles, BBQ sauce or salsa. Apple juice please.” Noor is staring at me, shocked. “What? I’m not on a diet! I’m dancing again. Marcus says that I’m on a whole new level when I do.” Oh boy! Why did I mention the M word?

  She chuckles. “Does he know? A burger got it.” She walks away.

  I miss Beesly; she would have liked that Saturday afternoon shopping trip. She left on Tuesday for New York and won’t be back until next Friday. A reality singing competition has invited her to be a guest judge and mentor. It’s great publicity for the band and even better expose for Beesly. My phone buzzes. Talk of the devil; Axelle sent me a message.

  Wedding status meeting. Five pm at Eldora. Tell Noor. She’s not picking up her mobile.

  Noor hands me my burger and sits.

  “I didn’t see you coming back. Thanks. Axelle sent me a message.”

  “I spoke to her. We’ll be there,” she says.

  We eat in silence for ten minutes then Noor breaks her silence. “He wants to sell his condo, get a house and have babies,” she finally says, wiping her mouth. “Right away! I’m not ready for that. I’m not Lelly.”

  “Isn’t it what married people are supposed to do?” I wipe my hands. This was a great burger. “You guys have been together for four years; this hasn’t come up until now?”

  “I’ve always avoided the conversation…with sex.” She leans in and whispers, “But he cut me off.”

  “He what?” I burst out laughing.

  “He cut me the fuck off! Alright!” she admits, louder this time.

  And hell has no fury like a sexually frustrated Noor. “Now I know why you sucked at yoga today. Mama needs some TLC. Join the club Sister.” I reach out for her hand and take it. “How long has it been for you?”

  “I don’t want to say,” she mopes.

  “Two weeks?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Three?” shakes it again. “Four?” More shaking, now with a horrified face. “Well?”

  “Five okay. Five…days. Weeks, are you crazy?”

  “No, that job has already taken by you. Five days! That’s not a dry spell at all. Talk to me in eight weeks, okay.”

  “Ouch! Luce, what’s wrong with you? Greg was here, more than willing and he’s the hottest man I have ever seen.”

  “Noor –”

  “And Marcus has been here all that time. I don’t think he would have minded. You guys made up, right?” she continues, not letting me speak.

  “It’s more –”

  “Please, you need to get laid. You have two handsome specimens in line for the job. Shut up! My fiancé is playing hard to get.”

  “Can I say something now?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  I smile. “Noor, you do need to get laid. And fast.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about! Stupid Andrew.” She looks at her big engagement ring. “He knew what he was getting himself into.”

  I laugh. He sure did. “He won’t last long.” I clean up our table, gathering all our leftovers. “I value my friendship with Greg too much to just hop into bed with him. Marcus… Well, half of the time I don’t know what the hell he’s thinking about, which is annoying. Then he says or does confusing things that…confuse me.”

  We both get up. “Sounds like a man to me. He’s on the right track then,” Noor teases. We walk toward the exit and back to my car. “Do we have time to drop our things before joining Axelle?”

  “Sure.” I start the engine. “I’m closer; we’ll start with me.”

  “So…on a whole new level? Tell me more,” She teasingly says.

  “Shut up!”

  “Never! Dish now, woman!” she adds, laughing.

  A quick glance. An air kiss. Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut.

  We’re late. Someone had the grand idea to change, like it was even needed. That would be me. I wanted to wear my “I’m-not-bloated”, skinny jeans; Axelle bought them last year in Madrid for almost nothing and they’ve never fitted until now. Yeah me! A nice white, tight top, silver opened-toe wedges, their matching bag and a light jacket. It’s Saturday night and I’m neither married nor engaged. Noor of course just had to outshine me with Daisy Duke denim shorts, to Andrew’s total dismay.

  Axelle is sitting with what looks to be a pitcher of margarita, almost half-empty. Somebody started the party without us. Her face brightens as soon as she sees us and she gets up. She looks stunning in white, tight capri pants, a simple, black tank top and red, peekaboo, pump shoes – so vintage, so sexy, so classy.

  “Well about time!” she says, hugging us one at the time. “I thought I would have to finish this on my own,” she continues. She pours us a glass. “Oh, my darlings, you’re looking especially dashing tonight.”

  “And you as always,” Noor tells her and starts drinking her Margarita.

  “Well, let’s get started then we’ll freely be able to get sloshed,” Axelle says with a full-on smile. She lightly knocks her glass on the table three times. “Burton-Mpobo-Riddell wedding status meeting is officially in session.” She takes out the file and turns to Noor. “So, how are we doing on the groomsmen’s tuxes?”

  Andrew is having six groomsmen: all dancers, except his younger brother, and all gay. I can’t wait for that chorus line. Andrew is paying for his tux.

  “We had the measurements taken last week; they should be ready in two to three weeks,” Noor nervously answers.

  Axelle writes something on her file. “So how much was this?”

  “Three thousand now, the rest after delivery,” she answers, biting her lip. I don’t want to be in her shoes right now, even though they belong to me. “But we’re getting a twenty percent discount.”

  “Wicked,” Axelle says, not even raising her head from the file and still writing. “Why?”

  “The bridesmaids’ outfits; I ordered them there as well,” Noor gloats. She is having eleven – yes, eleven – bridesmaids. This includes all of our Riddell and Mpobo first cousins, all dancers for the Riddells and all are straight. Can you spell hag?

  “We finally found a fabric. The one you chose actually,” Noor says. She goes for some liquid courage. “The sexy grey; I had all their measurements. Those skinny bitches!” She laughs nervously. “I ordered thirteen; they should be ready in four weeks. Just in time for my departure to London.”

  “Why two extra?” Axelle asks.

&
nbsp; “For you and Luce of course. Keep sake. So it was supposed to be three hundreds each. But I’ve got your dresses for free so we’re only paying for eleven.”

  “Impressive,” Axelle tells her. She raises her head for a smile. “Did you put a deposit down too?”

  “Nope, I paid in full. So only eighteen hundred to go, for the tux.”

  Axelle keeps reading her file. “So eighty-one hundred for the bridal party. My target was ten thousands. Well done, Noor.” She serves herself a drink.

  Noor nudges me. My turn I see. “Lelly, I bought my tux too,” I say carefully. “To walk Noor down the aisle.” I’m waiting for the disapproving glare.

  “Oh my gosh! Really? That sounds fantastic. I want to see it,” Axelle says all excited. Wow! How much tequila has she been drinking?

  “We dropped it off. Lelly?”

  “Yes, Love.”

  “It was twenty-five hundred.” I can feel myself sweating a little. “But I can cover the cost if it wasn’t in the budget.”

  “It’s fine. Granddaddy has given fifteen thousand pounds; so about thirty-two thousand for Canadian expenses; so far we’re still under fifteen. I want to make sure we have ten left for our plane tickets, otherwise we will have to pay for them.” She closes the file and knocks on the table again. “The meeting is now adjourned. We’ll meet again in two weeks’ time to discuss and finalize the hen party.” She pours herself another glass. “To D-Day minus one hundred and five!” she tells us, raising her glass. “Luce, be a dear and order another pitcher or two.”

  I order the pitchers as well as a dirty martini for the bride-to-be.

  Axelle turns to me, her glass in her hand. “So…what’s new? And you look fantastic, honey!”

  “Hey, I look good too!” Noor scowls.

  Axelle laughs and turns to Noor. “Oh my God! Did I just compliment the wrong sister? You’re Nooradine?”

  “Jealousy is not a good color on you, Noor,” I sneer back, filling myself another drink.

  “Please, you’re dieting,” she tells me. “She’s dieting, Axelle!” she says even louder and finishes her drink.

  “I’m so not. I’m doing a cleanse and some yoga”