His face ever calm, mine still the same sullen look it’s had since Moby woke. Neither of us is willing to engage.
“Are you fucking her, Dax? Is that why she doesn’t want me? She’s been getting your dick instead. I’ve missed her tight little pussy.” Turning to me he continues to hurl insults. “Is he good? I guess you figure one Cooper’s as good as another, right? You going to go after Brooks or Landis next? Landis has a huge fucking cock, so I’d suggest him.”
Gathering my purse and sweatshirt, I walk out the door without looking back. Dax warned me it would get volatile, but I assured him Moby would be resigned to his fate knowing he caused it. Never in my life would I have thought he’d accuse me of sleeping with someone else, much less his brother, my best friend’s fiancé. I refuse to allow myself to wallow in the emotion until I get home. I’ve already taken his clothes to his parent’s house, so there’s no reason for him to come back to ours. Phoenix has been there since the paramedics came.
Walking in the door, I should feel an enormous weight lifted from my shoulders. Instead, all I feel is crushing defeat making it difficult to breathe. I agonized over this decision. I spoke with my girlfriends at length countless times. His parents even had a hand in my choice as did mine. When I laid it all out in the open, bared my soul to all—I was enabling Moby to live at half-mast. I can’t live with myself if I’m the reason he never recovers.
I don’t intend for this to be a permanent split, I’m not going to file for separation, my friends, and our family all know that, which is the only reason I think they’re all being supportive. Moby has to fight for himself, and if it takes me leaving to make that happen, I will walk away.
I don’t hear from him for a couple days, which surprises me. If I’m being totally honest; it cuts me to my core. I depend on Moby for direction in my life. No matter how dark things get, he’s the light on my path. Once I found him, I knew I’d never be alone. But here I sit, my heart shattered, by myself, in a never-ending darkness that’s cataclysmic.
I took the week off work, needing time to process and rejuvenate. The last year has beaten me up pretty badly. I’ve lost sight of who I am. Every part of me changed. I miss my husband and had hoped me leaving would spark a fire in him to get in gear; to fight for me. Hell, to fight for himself. Instead, it’s radio silence. Not just from Moby but I haven’t heard from any of my Fish either.
I haven’t left the house, and for two days, I didn’t even bother to shower. My own funk took care of that issue, the stench was more than I could stand. I wander aimlessly in the painful silence, listening for things I apparently missed, but no answers come. Only the occasional clang of ice in the refrigerator or creak from a floorboard settling. I’ve lost more weight I can’t afford to lose and worry about whether the dress for Piper’s wedding will even fit by the time the date rolls around.
In just a couple weeks, I’ll have to face Moby. We’ll be walking down the aisle at his brother’s wedding, my best friend’s wedding. I’m the plus to his one. The anxiety that kicks up makes me want to toss my cookies.
Finally dragging myself back to work after a weeklong hiatus, the vibe in the office is off. I get the obligatory hello but no one asks where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing. Nobody inquires how I am after leaving my husband. They’re oddly cold and distant, even Cam. Dax is nowhere to be found. I find strange, too. He rarely lets Cam out of arm’s reach, much less his sight.
With a week of work sitting on my desk, I don’t dwell on the environment around me once I settle in and turn on my computer. I don’t stop for lunch and work long past everyone else’s quitting time. It’s not lost on me no one says goodbye. I get up to check the doors around the office to make sure they’re all locked before going back to the grind.
I continue well into the late hours of the night. With nothing at home to beg for my attention other than depression, I might as well stay. Around two, I finally decide to go home to grab a couple hours of sleep before replicating today, tomorrow.
The days go on like a bad song accidentally left on repeat. The only time anyone talks to me is to bring me work or ask me a question, and they disappear as quickly as they came. I’ve only seen Dax once or twice all week, and his visit seemed short. He could’ve been in the back building doing music therapy, but even so, he usually comes to the front to get kids before going out there. He would only miss those sessions if something drastic happened. He never lets the patients down. He loves them too much.
Concern crosses my mind, and I march to Cam’s office. My presence draws her attention from her computer. “Hey, Piper. What can I do for you?”
What? I look around unsure she’s talking to me, or possibly I’m being pranked. I’ve known Cam longer than I haven’t, and this has never been her MO with me. “Is something going on?”
“Not that I’m aware of, why?” She raises her eyebrows, a blank look on her face.
“Why hasn’t Dax been here recently?”
“He has.”
“Not like he normally is. And why is everyone ignoring me? Have I pissed you all off somehow?”
“I think you’re imagining things, Piper. People are just busy. It’s not a personal attack.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right.” I turn to walk back to my office when she calls out behind me.
“Don’t forget to pick up your dress this weekend. The wedding’s in a week!”
Wait. How is that possible? Where the hell did the weeks go between us trying on dresses, Moby being in the hospital, me being alone, and coming back to work? I should still have two or three weeks before the event.
Racing back to my office, I pull up my calendar. Somehow, I’ve lost two weeks of my life, completely unaware of where they went or how I spent them. I haven’t seen my husband or heard from him in almost a month. Not one peep, and other than seeing Sutton randomly pop up here, I haven’t seen or heard from Rachel or Charlie either.
I pick up the phone to call the bridal shop to schedule an appointment to have my alterations done on the bridesmaid dress.
“Can you come now? I know it’s not much notice, but we had a cancellation.” The girl on the other end of the line encourages me.
“Yeah. I can. I’ll be there in about ten minutes?”
“See you then, Mrs. Cooper.”
Arriving at the dress shop, Natalie pulls my gown from the back, ushering me into a fitting room, following closely behind me. Hanging the dress on the hook, she backs out of the room to get the seamstress.
Unzipping the garment bag, I unveil the most beautiful yellow dress I’ve ever seen. The color is soft and buttery, the fabric flowing as if the wind hangs just beneath it. I had almost forgotten which dress Cam had selected for me but the memories of that weekend bring a smile to my face. I loved how the dress made me feel.
Slipping into the silky material, I hope to transport myself back to that moment, when I was here with my girls, laughing and drinking, planning my best friend’s wedding. With a lift of my hand, the side zipper closes, and I turn to look in the mirror, but my smile quickly fades to horror.
The fabric hangs lifelessly on the remnants of my shell. I haven’t stepped on a scale in weeks, months even. I knew I had lost weight but what stares back at me is a scary sight. My face is gaunt, the skin paler than normal, the dark circles surrounding my eyes larger than usual. My shoulders poke out unnaturally, and my hips are no longer full and shapely.
Gathering the fabric at my sides, I sit on the bench in the room, words having escaped me.
“Mrs. Cooper, are you ready?” Natalie calls through the door.
I open the door, seeing the shock on her face, confirming my own horror. “Oh, Natalie. I don’t think even the best seamstress in the world can fix this.” The culmination of pain spills down my cheeks in a shameless display of self-destruction.
“Oh, no, no, no. Mrs. Cooper. Please don’t cry.” Producing a tissue from thin air, I take it, wiping at my eyes. “We can fix it. I promise. Have
a seat, I’ll be right back.”
I hear her whispering to the seamstress who seems to be hissing back at her, “There’s no way to fix that dress, Natalie. It needs to be taken in at least two, probably three sizes. It’s not going to be successful. I’ll end up destroying it in the process.”
I can’t hear Natalie’s response but once again, the older lady is not so quiet. “Well, yes. I suppose I could, but that’s hours of work. When does she need it?”
They both appear in the doorway. “Mrs. Cooper.”
“Please, call me Piper.”
“Piper, this is Sharon. She’s the head seamstress here. We have a proposition for you.”
I listen earnestly to Sharon describe what she can’t do with the dress to get to what she’s going to do with it. If I understand correctly, she’s essentially going to take it apart and redesign it to fit my current figure. She will use the other girls’ dresses as a guide to create a unique design for me. It’ll be close enough to the one Cam ordered. She will not likely know the difference.
I don’t bother asking what the cost is because it doesn’t matter. I will pay whatever I have to in order to keep from ruining Cam’s dream wedding. Buzzing around me like a bee, she pokes, pins, prods, and measures until I think my arms are going to fall off from holding them up so long.
I set up an appointment to return in two days when the dress should be done. That will give us one day to make any minor adjustments before it will have to be steamed for the wedding. Thanking them profusely, Sharon says, “Don’t thank me yet, sweetheart. I haven’t successfully pulled this rabbit out of my hat.”
The dress is better than anything I could’ve ever dreamed and so much prettier than the original. I haven’t bothered mentioning it to Cam and doubt she’ll notice when the time comes. I figure it’s best not to acknowledge it, stressing her out even more than I assume she already is.
She took yesterday and today off work and all of next week for their honeymoon, but I’ll see her, and everyone else, tonight at the rehearsal dinner. I’m dreading the entire thing, which pains me. I’ve been looking forward to Cam’s wedding for years, even though we didn’t have a groom. Not just hers but all the Fish. I’ve wanted to watch my friends take the next step, open the next chapter in their lives, each of them.
Somehow, the last year seems to have taken all that joy away, sucked it right out from under me. Not only is the joy no longer there but it’s been replaced with apprehension and fear. My friends haven’t talked to me since I left Moby, even though they all agreed it was what I needed to do. I haven’t heard one peep from him since I walked out of the hospital. No one’s speaking to me at work. My life is a crumbling shell of what it used to be, and I’m clueless as to how to put it back together. Tonight, all of that will be brought to the forefront.
I realize it’s not my night, it’s Dax and Cam’s, but Moby will be there. He has to be there. It’s his brother. I’m sure all the Coopers will be in attendance along with the Wrights, who I haven’t seen, and my Fish. The stress of being near him, wondering how we’ll ever find our way back together, I just don’t see how it can happen. When I had their support, it all seemed possible. Now, I just feel isolated and alone.
Arriving at the church just before I’m supposed to, I stroll in hoping to go unnoticed. It’s unlikely since I’m in the wedding, but I hope to remain as much of a wallflower as possible. The girls are huddled together just inside the doors, beyond them the guys are clustered around the center aisle, with random people scattered in the pews.
Before anyone has time for greetings, some woman I assume is the wedding coordinator, starts barking out orders, lines us up, and shows us how to carry a bouquet. She leaves us in a quiet line; the others begin to carry on the moment she’s out of earshot. The portly woman heads toward the front of the church, she orders the guys, and shows them how to file in first. Once in line, she hollers up the aisle to go when her hand gives the signal, one at a time.
I want to scream at this woman and remind her we’re all in our thirties, well most of us anyway, and this is not the first wedding we’ve ever attended, but I keep my mouth shut. My anxiety is getting the better of me.
Wait. Where’s Moby? I scan the front of the church but he’s nowhere to be found, no hole left open for him. He’s not in the pews; I’ve checked every head in there. Panic sets in. Something happened, and no one bothered to let me know. I’ve been so consumed with giving Moby his space I haven’t one time asked anyone how he’s doing. Oh, my God. I can’t find my husband.
Heaving, trying to catch my breath, the crazy lady makes it back to us. Putting her hand on my shoulder to still my nerves.
“Child. What is wrong with you?”
I try to take a deep breath. “There’s…there’s a groomsman missing.”
“Oh honey, don’t worry. He’ll be here tomorrow. He had something going on tonight he couldn’t get out of.” She dismisses my concern as quickly as it left my mouth.
Knowing he’s okay settles me enough to get through the rest of the evening but not enough to keep me from wondering what was more important than his oldest brother’s wedding rehearsal. We go through the motions two more times before the coordinator dismisses us to a swanky restaurant for dinner.
Obliged to go, I do, pushing food around on my plate, not bothering to eat much of what’s been put in front of me. I don’t bother with the wine knowing it will hit me hard because I’ve eaten so little. Cam opted not to have a bachelorette party. I think part of her still fears what took place that night we left the bar downtown, but she’ll never admit it. So there’s nothing going on after dinner.
I excuse myself as soon as humanly possible without seeming rude, although at this point I’m not sure it matters. I didn’t speak to anyone all evening other than to answer something asked of me and say goodbye. Moby’s Dad waved at me from a distance, but it seemed everyone intentionally kept away. It’s becoming painfully clear that once I get through this weekend, I need to consider where I’m going from here. I suppose I need to file for legal separation and consider looking for another job. I can’t continue to torture myself day in and day out, an outcast in my own life.
Sleep comes easily when I reach my bed. Unsure of the difference between depression and exhaustion anymore, I just welcome the reprieve from reality.
Waking to the sun shining through the windows, the haze-filled rays warm my skin, the illusion of a beautiful day beaming in. I lie in bed, having stared out into the same creation day after day, I force myself to get up and brave the world.
Showering, shaving, and donning the most comfortable clothes I believe I can get away with in the spa we’re scheduled to meet Cam at, I put on a fake smile, grab my dress, and get in the car. Mentally trying to prepare myself to pretend I’m enjoying my time with my friends, I blast the radio, singing along to the hottest music I can find, but it does little to lighten my mood. The ride is over too quickly, and before I know it, I’m staring at the entrance, my Fish staring back at me. They’re waiting for me to get out of the car to go in together.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Repeat.
Grabbing the handle, I swing the car door open, plastering my face with a smile that swears I’m happy to be here.
They greet me warmly. My girls seem to be back to themselves, talking up a storm, asking me how I’ve been, what I’ve been doing with myself, why they haven’t heard from me. The barrage of questions seems poorly timed, so I blow it off with vague answers about being busy trying to catch up at work. Seemingly pacified, I don’t ask about Moby or mention his whereabouts. Happily unaware, we dive into hours of beauty treatments.
“Piper, you realize it’s like eighty degrees outside, right? Why are you bundled up like Nanook of the North?” Sutton asks out of the blue.
“Just cold I guess.” I shrug off the question to avoid the truth—I can’t seem to keep any weight on and I’m always cold. My feet are in a perpetually frozen state, my hands like little
icicles. I bundle up to keep from freezing to death.
“Are you sick?” Cam asks.
“No. I’m fine. Really.”
Redirecting her attention to the stylist, Cam tells her how she wants each girl’s hair done; it’s the one thing she wants to be uniform. Swept back at the base of the neck in a loose bun with soft tendrils framing our face. She produces fresh flowers matching our dresses and her bouquet to adorn the up-do.
We alternate getting our nails done, manicures and pedicures with French tips, our makeup, and hair. There are four girls working on the five us, with two doing hair and makeup and the others on nail duty. They work like well-oiled machines and somehow, even with one extra person on our team, none of us ever appears to be left out or waiting on something else.
At 4:30, they put the finishing touches on Cam before we’re picked up by the limo. Everyone but me arrived here together, so I follow behind them in my car, still feeling the odd man out. I didn’t get the invite for the limo ride but refuse to let my feelings get hurt or pout about it. It’s two minutes down the street, and I’ll want my getaway car when this is all said and done.
Helping grab all the bride’s accouterments, we traipse inside, bogged down with more crap than any one person should have. Her hair and makeup are already done, I can’t imagine what the hell is in her arsenal, but leave it to Cam to be prepared for any situation.
“How do you want to do this, Cam?” Rachel asks after hanging the bags around the room.
“My mom’s bringing in the flowers just before we walk, so really all we need to do is get dressed, right?”
I’m just along for the ride. I’ll do whatever I’m told.
“So you guys go ahead and change. I’ll do what I can on my own but once I put the gown on you’ll have to button it and lace it up.”
None of us, to my knowledge, have even seen Cam’s dress. She’s kept it a highly guarded secret, so unless it’s made a debut in the last couple weeks, we’re all in for a treat.
Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) Page 24