“Pre-wedding nerves,” she said when we were at a shop doing her final dress fitting. “I’ve had them before, though.”
I stared at my mother on the podium while two gals zipped up her off-white gown. It was almost sort of silvery, and it made Mom look much too young to have an eighteen-year-old daughter. She was so slim and curvy, almost thinner than me. Her face didn’t even have a wrinkle yet, though I knew all hell would break loose when that day came.
“What do you think, Mrs. Mason?” A dark-skinned lady smoothed the sparkling taffeta of the skirt.
Mom laughed. “Well, I won’t be Mrs. Mason until tomorrow, but yes,”—she ran her hands over the bustier half— “it’s so beautiful.”
I sneered while she wasn’t looking in the five-way mirror. I couldn’t imagine my mother going by Mrs. Mason, and the thought made her suddenly a stranger to me again… just when she’d started to feel like mom.
She turned her head and grinned. “What do you think, Rose?”
I tried to smile, but didn’t quite make it. “It’s really pretty.”
Her irises flickered with a second’s worth of sadness. Had she caught me sneering? “What are you going to wear, honey? Do you have a dress picked out?”
You’re lucky I don’t show up in my underwear. “Yeah, I do.”
“What color is it?” She tried to sound casual, but it was clear what she was after. She hadn’t been happy that I’d worn black to the shower.
“It’s Barbie doll pink, mom.” I grimaced.
“Oh. That sounds nice.” Her voice got quiet. She frowned at a loose string on the bodice, yanking it off.
Leaning against the wall, I scanned mom’s dress again. The dark-skinned gal fluffed up the bottom of the skirt, reminding me of my junior year prom dress. I hoped that would never be me on that podium. I hoped I’d never get married. And if I did, God help me in marrying the right man.
My gaze fell to the sea-green carpet. I could only picture one man waiting at the end of my aisle, but even then…
The image was already fading.
*
White.
Everywhere I looked, there was white. So much white, it was impossible to tell what was floor or wall or ceiling. It was like the blank background for a onedimensional video game character, like the first Super Mario ever created. This wasn’t mom’s wedding was it?
“Don’t panic, Rose,” I told myself. Glancing down, I saw I was even wearing white. But it wasn’t the white of my favorite sweater, nor was it the off cream of the summer dress I’d bought last year. In fact, it wasn’t anything from my closet…
It was the silver-white of mom’s wedding dress.
Ok, I thought, gazing around for a door or a set of stairs or someway out of this weird place. Certainly not mom’s wedding. I don’t recall putting this on or how I got here, but ok.
“You’re such a pretty girl, Rose.”
I spun around.
Against all the blankness, a girl had appeared. Gold waves of hair rippled down her back, her skin a soft tan. She moved about in a gold floor-length dress and bare feet, graceful as a faerie.
She looked exactly like me.
“Um, are you my reflection?” I moved side to side, waiting to see that I was standing in front of a mirror.
She grinned, her smile revealing dimples—something I didn’t have. “No, silly,” she laughed.
I tilted my head. Wait. Her nose was a little bigger than mine, too, her hair not as light. “Um, I’m sorry, who are you?”
She glanced off to the side, placing her hands on her hips. “Do I really need to tell you that?” She giggled. “You’re smarter than that aren’t you, Rosie?”
I furrowed my eyebrows, thinking. Unless I’d been secretly cloned, no answer came to me.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dork! I can’t believe you don’t even recognize me. We were born the same day and everything!” She crossed her arms, pretending to pout.
My legs turned to jelly. Oh my God.
“Rachel?”
“Yeah, silly!” She threw her arms in the air like a little girl. “Do we look that different?”
Without another thought, I swept forward and threw my arms around her, nearly knocking my twin to the ground. “Oh, Rachel!” I started balling all over again, no restraint this time. Everything had finally bottled up and was finally overflowing. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I missed you so much!”
She squeezed me. “I know, Rosie. I’ve missed you too.” Pulling away, she wiped the fresh tears from my face. “It’s been so weird not having you by my side, not being able to grow up with you.”
“Things are bad.” I sniffled. “Mom divorced dad and now she’s marrying this idiot who I can’t stand and she’s totally lost her mind since you’ve been gone—”
Rachel slapped a finger over my lips. “Don’t worry about mom,” she instructed. “Mom’s old enough to make her own mistakes, as dad would say. And mom isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.” She glanced over her shoulder. A stairway had finally appeared in the distance. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
She grabbed my hand and we ran for the stairs. They were the kind of stairs found in an old castle with lit candles in the stone walls, steps not carpeted or covered in any type of runner. Our feet didn’t make a sound. As we came out the top, we were still standing on white, but blue sky was visible overhead now, a thick warm mist settling all around us. The breeze came through, warm and gentle as it brushed our hair.
“Wow,” I said, impressed. “Rachel, it’s beautiful.”
“I know, right?” She sat down and laid back, her form almost completely eaten by the fog. “It’s one of my favorite places, especially during dawn and dusk.”
I walked over and fell beside her. We stared at the sky in silence, and my worries suddenly started to drift away. It was the weirdest, most relieving feeling—like exhaling after you’ve held your breath for so long. I closed my eyes, soaking in the peace, smelling the damp scent of morning dew.
“He loves you, you know,” Rachel said.
I jerked my head to the side. Peace disrupted. “What?”
“I said he loves you.” She smiled.
“Um… who?”
“You know who!” She folded her hands behind her head. “The half fey boy!”
My heart thudded. The pain was trying to return. “How did you—”
“I know everything about you, sissy.” She was quite proud of that. “I’ve watched you go to school where you think about him, attend the shop where you proceed to stare until your eyes are dry in their sockets… I see you moving closer and closer to a whole other world, finding things that most can only imagine… and you love him too.”
My mouth hung ajar. “But he’s—he’s gone, Rachel!” I exclaimed. “Gone! How can he love me when he’s probably miles and miles away by now?” Why was she making me talk about this? Why did she bring it up? I was just getting over him, just learning to let go.
Her eyes danced with an excited fire. “Don’t be so quick to judge, Rose. You’ll complicate life further if you’re always making fast assumptions.”
I stared, unhappy, but my mouth remained closed.
Rachel’s smile fell just a little. “You have a very interesting future, Rosie,” she whispered. “How much do you love this half faerie?”
I picked at the pearlized taffeta of mom’s dress. “I’ve never felt like this towards anyone,” I confessed, even though it hurt. “I see his face and the whole world seems to get brighter, like everything that seemed impossible two seconds before is suddenly possible. You’re right… I love him.” Even if I wanted him out of my head.
“That’s what I thought.” She nodded to herself. “So I feel it right to warn you: if mom marrying a doosh is your biggest problem, falling in love is going to put you way over your head.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, disliking the worry her sentence carried.
She rolled onto he
r side, running a finger down the ridge of my nose. “How brave are you, Rosie?” she murmured. “Faeries will pull you into other dimensions, into situations both dangerous and surreal. Are you brave enough to climb the mountains and bare the currents in the river to true love?”
“Um.” I made a weird face. It was hard not to say: where did you take poetry? But all corniness aside, there was meaning in her words. And she looked really serious. “I—I guess. Why?”
She weaved her cool fingers between mine, holding them in front of our faces. “Have faith, Rosie. In everything you are, and everything you believe in. It’ll be the difference between winning, and defeat. Forever, and never. Having Hayden… or losing him.”
The sun broke through the mist at that moment, turning it yellow and pink and orange. I had to cover my eyes, encountering major sun spots. Looking back to my twin, I tensed. “Rachel!”
Her body was suddenly see-through, like a ghost. “Don’t worry about me, sissy.” She grinned. “Everything will be ok.”
“Oh my gosh—you’re leaving me!” I sat up abruptly, fear striking me to the bone. “Rachel, don’t leave! I need you! You can’t do this to me again!”
She sat up, barely visible now. “I never left you, silly,” she laughed. “And I never will. Promise.”
“Rachel!” I reached towards her, grabbing nothing but a handful of air.
“I promise,” she repeated, and her body became one with the mist. *
I shot up in bed so fast I gave myself whiplash. It was hard to breathe again, the room blurry and spinning. Falling back into the pillows, I took to the routine of deep breaths. “Oye,” I moaned. Hair was sticking to my sweaty neck. I’d never had that dream before.
Sunlight peeked through the window, glinting off the steel knives in the sill and casting golden rectangles across the floor. The clock stated that it was a little after eight. Rolling out of the sheets, I slinked to the window. Dad’s car was already gone.
Sighing, I rubbed the back of my head. It pulsed a bit, like I’d hit it on the headboard in my sleep. Maybe I had. Today was going to be long and headachefilled enough without hitting my head on things.
My bathwater was extra hot that morning. The Barbie doll dress hugged my midsection and fluttered to my knees in delicate ruffles, pale lace lining the edges. I didn’t bother dealing with my hair—I wadded it on my head with a scrunchie, knowing mom had a hairstylist at the church.
The whole drive there, Rachel’s face kept flashing before my eyes. My dreams of her had never felt so real, so near reality. Last night’s was so existent I could still feel her fingers around mine, see her smile and what she’d have looked like if she’d lived to match my age.
Goose bumps broke out across my arms and legs. She’d spoke of Hayden. How brave are you, Rose? The way she’d talked, she sounded like trouble was only beginning. Had that been my conscience getting to me through my dreams, or was it a real warning? Faeries could communicate with humans… why not the dead? But if it were so, then I’d have to ask: what did she mean? Hayden and I were over—even if for a few seconds last night it hadn’t felt that way.
I pulled into the parking lot of Rosemary Church. It was the same grounds upon which Aunt Dana was married, and it still reminded me of a church right out of a fairytale. Small and completely white with towers on both sides, clover and tiny daisies dominated the lawn. It was the kind of place Snow White would’ve chosen to marry her prince.
Figures mom would want to get married here.
I stared up at the white cross settled in the building’s neatly sculptured center. It was ancient and beautiful, and seemed to radiate a calming yet eerie energy. Closing my eyes, I bowed my head to the steering wheel. Please, God, I prayed.
Please let me survive this day and stop me should I try to strangle the woman who gave birth to me. People in dresses and button-down shirts were hanging around the main entrance. My silver heels strutted across the parking lot, passing some friends of mom’s. I waved and said hi before they directed me inside to her room. Stopping in the center of a stone hall, I pushed open a door off the right.
She was seated in front of a vanity in her flowing dress—the dress I’d worn last night in my dream. Her friend Georgia was rolling the curling iron to her head while her petite cousin, Lacey, was dusting gold powder over her eyes. As she saw me, mom smiled. “Hi, baby.”
I was getting better at faking happy smiles. “Hey, mom.”
“Georgie’s almost done with me. Do you have a hairstyle in mind?” “Just, give me something easy. I’m not going to make her bear the burden of
this mess.” I took a seat on a stool next to one of the bridesmaids. My hand pulled through my pale hair, all washed and dried and wild as a horse’s mane. Mom snorted, then went quiet. As I watched her expressions in the mirror, I noticed that—even under the concealer and eyeliner—she looked tired. Even a little… stressed? I suppose weddings were rather stressful. Or maybe she was still nervous.
“Sisi, will you zip me?” Benjamina was trying to get into her maroon bridesmaid dress with some difficulty. Sisi went over to help her.
“You made an adorable pick for dresses, Denis,” Yelanore said to mom while adjusting the halter top part of her gown. She must’ve seen mom’s discomfort, too. “So pretty.”
“Thanks, Nora.” Mom’s eyes were rolled to the ceiling as Lacey brushed her lower lashes with mascara.
I sat in a daze, not really watching as everyone moved about the room and slid dresses on and strapped their gold shoes and stuck pins in their hair. All I could see was Rachel’s face. Over and over again. Have faith, Rosie. What would Rachel do if she were here, watching our mother about to marry someone besides dad? Was she watching right now from some dimension I couldn’t see?
“Rose!” Mom called me out of zoning. She stood up from her chair, a vision in white—but everyone says that to the bride on her big day. Mom looked like a glamorous wedding Barbie ready to be boxed and put on a store shelf.
Obediently, I got up and took her spot before the vanity. Georgia brushed out my hair with minimal knot-pulling, looking fascinated by its length and shimmer. “Jeez, you have beautiful hair, Rose. What shall we do with it?” she asked.
“Something quick and classy,” I answered, knowing you can’t do too much with the amount of hair I had in a short period of time. “Just throw it up if you want.”
Georgia smiled. “I know just the thing.”
From a leather bag by the stool, she pulled out a long, thick clip the color of honey. She slipped my hair through a slit in the clip and rolled and folded it to my head. “How about that?” Georgia handed me a hand mirror.
“Wow.” I ogled my reflection. There was a blonde, curly S pressed to my head. “That looks cool. Thank you.”
A smile crossed her chubby face. “Alright, Sisi! You’re next!”
The minutes ticked closer to noon. At a quarter till, Dana popped her head in to collect the bridesmaids for line up. They all giggled and gossiped while collecting their red bouquets, filing out of the room.
“Good luck, Denise!” Georgia gave her a big grin while packing up her hair supplies.
“Thanks, Georgie.” Mom went over to hug her, whispering something in her ear.
I got up to follow Georgia out the door when mom caught my hand. “Stay a second?”
“Um.” Intuition told me I was about to undergo some kind of lecture with emotional effects. Oh great. “Sure.”
Georgia shut the door, leaving us alone.
Mom trailed back to the stool by the vanity, staring at her reflection. Her expression was impossible to read. Slowly, I sunk onto a nearby stool, preparing myself for the worst. “Mom?” I started when she didn’t say anything. “Are you ok?”
She nodded, eyes dropping to her lap where her hands laid. “I just… I don’t know how…” Sighing, she looked back at me. “Do you hate Lyle that much?”
I swallowed. Oh, boy. I had to think a minute how to phrase my answ
er, dig deep and find the real truth about what I thought of him—besides thinking he was an idiotic, prissy, Alley-Creeping Vampire.
“I don’t hate Lyle as a person,” I said slowly, not sure if that was completely true. “I just hate Lyle for you.”
She lowered her brows. “What does that mean, Rose?”
I scuffed, impatience setting in. I couldn’t believe she waited to have this conversation fifteen minutes before she was supposed to walk the aisle! If she was planning on this conversation, shouldn’t it have taken place weeks ago? Months ago?
“It means, mom,” I started, knowing there was no going back now. “That I never saw you marrying Lyle’s type. Ever.” I might’ve—reluctantly—pictured her with a good business man after the divorce, but not a rich yuppie that seemed to think cliques and status really mattered after high school.
Her eyes watered slightly. She glanced sideways, out the window. “Will you hate me, Rose?” she asked seriously after a long moment. “Will you hate me if I marry Lyle today?”
I shook my head. “Mother, this is so not the time for this con—”
“Will you?” she demanded.
My temple pulsed. “No. I won’t hate you—”
“But you’ll hold it against me. Won’t you?”
“Why are you asking me all this stuff?!” I bellowed, tired of feeling awful. “Mom, you have to walk down the aisle in ten freaking minutes and you want to talk about this now?”
“I know, ok? I know,” she snapped, then softened her voice again. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk about this sooner but at least I’m asking you now—”
“It doesn’t matter now!” I waved my arm through the air. Everything I’d been holding in, all the emotions I’d been hiding were finally surfacing. “You booked the church, mom! You bought the dress, had the parties. You’re getting married whether my opinion matters or not!”
She dropped her head to her manicured hands. “Your opinion, Rosalia, has always mattered to me.”
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