by C. A. Harms
I stare at her, wondering if she's gone crazy.
"The trip is in your name, right, all the insurance and everything?"
"Yes," I say with hesitation.
"Okay, so we cash in the insurance on the second ticket, roll over the money to pay for me, and the difference left I'll cover myself. It's still going to be mostly on Matthew, and I think you deserve a getaway. We can relax by the pool, flirt with guys, and drink until we pass out."
"Men are the last thing on my mind." I'm not sure I'll ever waste my time on the opposite sex again. Well, beyond scratching a particular itch, but even that at this point is far, far off.
"Okay then, I'll flirt, and you can drink."
The idea of disappearing for a while, avoiding the stares of everyone, and the whispers sounds appealing. The way I'm feeling now, I'd either kill someone or cry uncontrollably, and neither sounded like a great outcome.
"Get your laptop," I direct, and within seconds she is up off the bed and practically sprinting out to the living room where her bag is. I can hear her bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she comes hurrying down the hallway to my room and bounces back on the bed like an excited middle schooler.
"Are we doing this?" She asks with contagious giddiness.
"Yeah," I sit up and take the computer from her, waking it up, "I think we are."
Another thirty minutes pass and one phone call to the airlines, everything is set. I've gathered all the information I need to rearrange the flight itinerary. Instead of me and Matthew leaving tomorrow morning, Addison and I will be flying out tomorrow, late afternoon.
I know this isn't a fix, honestly with how I'm feeling, I don't think the heaviness in my chest will ever pass. I still feel like I'm stuck in a nightmare, and I'll wake up soon to find it's my wedding day, and I'm just experiencing the pre-ceremony jitters.
But the truth is I'm living a nightmare, one I know I can't run from, and one day I'll be forced to face.
I'm the pathetic girl left at the altar by a man who was supposed to love her. Hell, I didn't even make it to that point. I'm the deserted bride, and I know that shit will follow me forever.
There's a knock on my door, and I yell out from my bedroom, telling Addison to come in. Surprised so much time has passed and wondering how Addison had gotten ready so quickly. We only had a little over an hour before we need to be at the airport.
"I'm almost ready," I assure her rolling my suitcase and heaving my carry-on bag onto my shoulder as I began walking down the hallway. Rambling on about if I'd packed the correct shoes, I came to an abrupt halt when I find Matthew standing in my apartment. Wearing the dress shirt I bought him for his birthday last month, paired with the jeans I've always said he looks the best in. His hair is in the same disordered style it always is like he's just climbed out of bed and ran his fingers through it. He is attractive, and even though the anger is still boiling inside me, I can't deny that fact.
"Hey Dani," he has the gall to appear sad, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Can we talk?"
"I have nothing to say to you." I have a million and one things I can say, but nothing will fix what he's done, so what is the point.
"We had four years together; I think we owe it to ourse—"
"I don't owe you a damn thing, except maybe to back over you with my car." A bit dramatic, maybe, but I've earned the right. My voice rises uncontrollably, and I throw down my carry-on as I take a step closer to him, feeling the aftermath of everything he's put me through in the last twenty-four hours. "You left me at the church so you could run off with my sister, Matthew." I will not cry; he doesn't deserve my tears. "The same sister I asked you if something was going on with less than six months ago. You could have ended it so many times before, been honest when I asked and told me that you two had been screwing around behind my back. But instead, you let me plan some sham of a wedding, you let me go to that damn church, and you allowed all those guests to arrive, so what, so you could humiliate me?"
I push against his chest, and he doesn't budge.
"How long?" I scream, feeling myself break a little more. "How long have you been screwing my sister?"
He grabs my wrists and holds me close, the same scent I am so familiar with hitting me when I collide with his chest. "Dani, I'm sorry," I try to pull away. "I never meant for it to happen."
But it did!
"Just leave," I mumble, unable to control the tears pooling in my eyes. I don't want to do this; I don't have the strength.
"Dani," he brings his lips to my cheek, and for a few seconds I lean into him, remembering what it's like to be us. The sweet, gentle kisses, the way he'd hold me close and pretend to care. He's familiar, and I feel so vulnerable and so broken that accepting the offered comfort is almost like my world has not recently fallen apart around me. For a minute, I can pretend he's chosen me.
"Baby," hearing him offer the same endearment he did so many times before when attempting to soothe me after making me feel like shit only feels like an ice-cold bucket of water has been dumped over my head.
I push back, placing distance between us, and the sound of me smacking his face echoes around the apartment.
He looks shocked. I'm shocked!
This person is not me; I'm not a violent person. I sure as hell am not this cold. But he's made me this way; he left me feeling empty and used, he forced me to question every aspect of my life, and I hate him for it.
"Get out," this time, I put everything I have behind the push, and he stumbles a little from the impact. "You make me sick." I feel physically nauseous picturing him with my sister while also being with me. He's been living a double life. "You and Cathryn deserve one another."
I feel murderous; my hands shake as I fist them, and my heart is racing.
"You have a lot of nerve showing up here." Matthew looks behind him to find Addison standing there, looking as angry as I feel. I know without a doubt in my mind that given a chance, she would push him in front of a speeding car and not shed a tear.
Matthew looks at me and then Addison before settling back on me. "I really am sorry, Dani," and with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me feeling broken and defeated all over again.
Chapter Three
Danielle
"Do you think you should repaint?" Addi sits on my couch next to me, looking around my living room. Entirely too focused on the surroundings, I know her mind is racing with possibilities. You never want Addison to get bored, when she does things happen. Not always do those things have the best outcome.
My apartment walls are a cream color; the hanging pictures had been removed weeks ago in preparation to move. All my items are mostly packed or piled somewhere, ready to be transferred to the house I was supposed to live in with Matthew.
A home that I instantly fell in love with, four bedrooms, two and a half baths in Greensboro. It was his grandparent's home, and together we planned to remodel every inch of space to make it our own. We'd imagined everything from the color palette, to the furniture, all the way down to the placement of tile in the master bath. As I look around my tiny one-bedroom apartment, I wonder if my sister is making changes to those plans. Or were the choices he made hers and not his own. Those were things I may never know, or understand.
I can't allow myself to go there, our week in Mexico was one of clarity.
The saying, as an outsider looking in, is accurate. I'd been blinded by love, lost in the bliss of all the things it offered and I'd missed all the warnings signs. The late nights when Matthew would get stuck at the office, the voicemails that would go unheard whenever I was near, it was right there in front of me. Unexplained late-night calls, unwarranted nervousness, I can see it now, and it only makes me angrier I didn't see it then.
Being able to step away from my life and analyze it without distraction put it all into perspective. I've been played, but not only by my fiancé but by my sister too.
"I think I should paint that wall red." I point to t
he largest wall. "Ruby red, and I should get a new couch." Haunted with memories of things that happened on the very couch we sit on, I shivered without controlling it. "Yeah, definitely a new couch."
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just admit some nasty sex took place in the very place I am currently sitting."
I smile, but it has nothing to do with the memories that are invading my mind. It's more for the fact that without Addi, I know I could not have made it through the last several weeks.
She's my rock, my cheerleader when I need it most, as well as the one who tells me when I'm ridiculous. Before the wedding disaster and even more so now, she's stood by my side without pause. She's rubbed my back when I've cried and held my hair when I've attempted to drink away my problems and spent the night puking in the bathroom for hours. I feel bad for monopolizing her time, but she refuses to leave my side.
We've been back in North Carolina for a little less than three weeks, and I will return to work on Monday. I know then everything I've managed to avoid, I'll be forced to face. My mother, father, and even Cathryn. I’m afraid of how I’ll handle this situation exactly, when I do come face to face with my sister, but I know it won’t be pretty.”
"I think red is perfect," Addison is bold and adventurous. I wish I were more like her. I want to live without worrying about tomorrow; I want to live for me and be me; damned if people don't like it, they can stay away. I want to be free and courageous, carefree and exciting. I want to act now and think about it later.
"Do you remember that magazine I was thumbing through when we were waiting for our massages in Mexico? The one with all those crazy designs and colors, so bright."
"The one you got the idea of painting your bathroom ceiling blue from?"
I thought she was insane when I'd shown up at her place to find her speckled with blue paint all over her face and a roller with the same blue paint covering it in her hand. But to be honest, it looks terrific, especially when she finished it off with the accents that brought it all together.
"There was this layout of a bedroom, the color scheme was edgy, but I think it's one of the best schemes I've ever run across." I can tell she is thinking something over, biting her lip, with her forehead creased as she's deep in thought. "Do you trust me?"
"I'm scared to, but yes."
She laughs and pushes off the couch, holding her hand out to help me up. "Come on," she grins proudly without giving me any details of what's to come. "We have work to do."
I hesitated only for a few seconds before placing my hand in hers and gave it a little tug.
It is time to live a little. Time to stop being afraid and go after what I want for a change. Why can't I be the girl who calls the shots?
I will choose how my life goes on from this point!
I will be unaffected by the gossip and heartbreak; I will survive this. And most of all, I will never again allow any man to fool me or make me fall in love.
I'm in control! I make the choices!
I sit in the teacher's lounge, ignoring those who walk in and pause as if they aren't sure of what to say to me. I wish they would pretend nothing has changed and tell me all about the student's mishaps and what they ate for dinner last night. Before the wedding, tedious actions were the topic of most of my meaningless conversations with coworkers. So now that's what I need, mindless chatter. Only now, all I get are sad glances and silence, like they are scared if they talk to me, I may fall apart and start to cry hysterically or something.
I pick at the salad I made for myself and move the contents around in the bowl, avoiding looking up. I should have stayed in my classroom rather than face the pity-filled stares of the lounge. Even Ross, one of Matthew's closer friends, doesn't know what to say to me. He walked in and immediately spun on his heels, and walked out.
It seems cowardliness runs in his circle of friends, as well as himself.
Standing up, I walk toward the garbage to toss my food, container, and all. I'm over it.
Working my way down the hall, I keep my gaze averted. Feeling my phone vibrate in my back pocket, I pull it out to find it's a text message from Addison.
Addison: Remind me again why I chose to be a kindergarten teacher.
I don't need to ask her why because shortly to follow is a picture. A little boy with his face painted blue. As in, he took a marker and colored himself from brow to chin, except the space around his mouth was red. I can't control the giggle that bubbles in my chest. Subconsciously I swear Addi can feel when I need her most.
Me: Because you love the little people.
She has a tolerance for children I have always admired. Not so much for the adults, though, because in her words, you should know what to do and not do by the time you reach a certain age. Little people are still learning; they have hope.
I took a different route and went for high school English. On most days, I wonder what in the hell possessed me because this age is hard. They are smart asses who feel they know everything, and the eye-rolling is a killer. It's next to impossible not to bop them on the back of the head when they do it. Or throw my stapler at them; that thought had crossed my mind several times.
But I look forward to Addison's stories she shares about the adventures of five and six-year-olds; they keep me smiling.
Addison: I found Tommy in the corner eating his boogers again. I told him those were fungus from his brain, and he just looked at me and said, yum.
A puking emoji follows the text.
Again I snicker.
I'm so involved in my texting when I turn the corner to enter my classroom; I'm entirely unaware of the fact I'm no longer alone.
"Danielle," I jerk in surprise and fumble with my phone as it threatens to hit the ground at my feet. Gaining control, I look up to find my mother sitting at my desk, with her arms crossed impatiently in front of her. "I've been here waiting for over thirty minutes."
"Well, Mother, I wasn't aware you were here."
Her random pop-ins are just one of my mom's many downfalls as the superintendent for the school district.
I honestly don't have much to say to my mother, not even on an average day. When she should have been consoling me and offering support, she was fawning over my sister. She was comforting her because apparently, she felt terrible about how things worked out.
Please! Terrible for her because she chose to screw her sister's fiancé and then run off with him on my wedding day. Oh boo hoo, poor Cathryn!
"Your sister says she hasn't heard from you." My mother holds my gaze, and I know it's an intimidation tactic of hers; she uses it daily. The difference now is I'm living with an, I don't give a shit, attitude. I know who I can and can't count on; the true colors of so many have now come to the surface. I keep my circle small, and those who are outside of that circle, well, they can kiss my ass.
"She's right." I cross my arms over my chest too, mocking, refusing to falter, and give my mother the satisfaction. My mother's cold, with everyone but my sister and father, I've always been second best. I don't measure up to the daughter she thought I'd be. The reality is, to earn my mother's love you needed to be her robot.
My circuits must have shorted out long ago because I'd never followed suit. And now, well, screw the idea of being under anyone's control.
It used to bother me that she'd so obviously held disdain for me, but I've gotten over it.
"This is beneath us, Danielle."
"No," I channel the inner bitch inside myself and give back as I'm receiving. "What's beneath us is my whore of a sister who slept with my fiancé and then has the nerve to believe I could ever have anything to say to her?"
My mother's eyes narrow.
"She can keep waiting for me to call, for me to reach out, or she accepts the fact she's nothing to me. That's her choice," I shrug, and my mother says nothing in return, only stares as if she doesn't know me at all.
Honestly, she doesn't really, and she's never taken the time to.
Chapter Four
D
anielle
"I want to smack your mother, I'm not gonna lie." Molly, Addison's cousin, and my friend announces as she grabs another slice of pizza from the many boxes displayed before us.
"Who doesn't," Rachel, another friend, says around a mouth full of food.
Being lazy has been my routine for weeks now. Work during the week, and on the weekends I veg out and lounge around in my pajamas. Not glamorous by any means because the tangles in my hair had knots of their own. I've lost the desire to pretty myself up, and on most occasions, I went to school with my hair piled in a bun on top of my head.
"And your sister," Molly adds, tossing the half-eaten piece of pizza on the lid of the box and stretching back to undo her pants buckle. "She is an entitled bitch." After she undid her button, she sags forward and sighs. Yeah, we were most definitely a hot little crew of women, let me tell you. Classy to the core.
"We need to get out more," I jump right past our topic of conversation and look over each of my friends. Sweatpants, ratty t-shirts, and no makeup, our appearances make me laugh.
"We've become hermits, and it's all my fault."
Addison slides in closer and wraps her arm around my shoulders. "Sweetheart, we'll do this daily if it's what you need from us."
"That's what I'm saying.” I make a circular motion with my finger around our tiny little group. "I'm turning us all into monsters. Junk food eating, beer-drinking, don't wash your hair for three days kind of monsters." They each smile, and I adore them all a little more for it. They love me, and when I'm hurting, they stand by me. But something has to give.
"I think we need a girls’ night."
"I thought this was a girls’ night," Molly leans back and covers her stomach with her hand. Engorged on pizza, a little tipsy from the alcohol consumed, she is adorable. "Girls’ night at Dani's place, that's what we said."